Esme is adjusting to her new life better than she expected to. Edward has been friendlier to her and Carlisle seems to have forgiven her misstep in kissing him
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It's been a long, long day. Edward's in class or else he would have asked if he had wanted to go out for a run with Carlisle. Since Edward is in class, he is just going to go home, wash this damnable inkstain out of the one new dress shirt he has and camp out in a chair until nightfall.
The briefcase gets dumped in the hallway. The shirt is stripped off soon after, heading for the bathroom sink.
Esme makes a small noise of protest and pulls her legs up against her chest in a half-hearted attempt to cover herself, but is incapable of forming actual words because the sight of Carlisle shirtless is rather distracting.
It takes a nanosecond longer than it should for Carlisle to spin on his heels and stride back out the door again. He stops right outside the doorjamb, reaching backwards to the knob to pull the door closed again.
Carlisle is in the kitchen now, using the sink there Which you should have done before you complete and utter imbicile to wash the inkstain out of his shirt.
He had been banking on Esme staying in the bathroom.
Esme, for her part, has started scrubbing the shirt with a mixture of baking soda and water, trying not to be disappointed that Carlisle put a new shirt on.
"It seems to be coming out," she remarks when he returns.
And now it's Carlisle's turn to be watching Esme at the sink.
"That's nice," he replies as he walks towards her, not even remotely interested in the shirt at the moment. Carlisle reaches up with one hand to Esme's shoulder to peer over at the soaking garment.
Carlisle is actually thinking about the shoulder underneath the cloth but he manages cogent thought regardless of where his mind wants to wander off to.
Laughing, "Look at this -- I walk in on you in the bathroom and now you're out here washing. I am completely unfair."
The briefcase gets dumped in the hallway. The shirt is stripped off soon after, heading for the bathroom sink.
"Oh."
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"Uh..."
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It takes a nanosecond longer than it should for Carlisle to spin on his heels and stride back out the door again. He stops right outside the doorjamb, reaching backwards to the knob to pull the door closed again.
Click.
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She quickly pulls the plug, stands up and dries herself. She is grateful that she wore her robe into the bathroom.
Tying it tightly around her waist, she soon steps out of the bathroom and goes in search of Carlisle to let him know the bathroom is free.
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Carlisle is in the kitchen now, using the sink there Which you should have done before you complete and utter imbicile to wash the inkstain out of his shirt.
He had been banking on Esme staying in the bathroom.
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The muscles in his back tense. This is ridiculous.
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She walks over and leans over his shoulder.
"Some baking soda would probably help get that out," she recommends.
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Looking through his periphery is enough to determine Esme is...more covered than Carlisle is, at the moment. He tries not to focus on that.
"Intern had slippery fingers," Carlisle explains stiffly, now moving his gaze somewhere safe.
Back to the faucet.
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Because in her family, boys didn't do laundry. Which meant all the laundry fell to Esme when her mother was away.
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"If you'd like to? I'll find the baking soda."
Which momentarily takes him out of the awkward position of being between the counter's edge and Esme in her robe. Carlisle finally exhales.
The baking soda was a few cupboards down, which Carlisle places at Esme's side. "Let me run upstairs and find another shirt -- "
He's gone before the sentence is finished, and back again, appropriate.
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"It seems to be coming out," she remarks when he returns.
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"That's nice," he replies as he walks towards her, not even remotely interested in the shirt at the moment. Carlisle reaches up with one hand to Esme's shoulder to peer over at the soaking garment.
"Thank you."
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She swallows reflexively and tries not to concentrate so much on the way his fingers feel on her terry-cloth covered shoulder.
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Laughing, "Look at this -- I walk in on you in the bathroom and now you're out here washing. I am completely unfair."
Or lucky. Carlisle can't decide.
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She's aiming for a light tone with her words, still unsure of just how much Carlisle knows about her relationship with Charles.
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