Alice Whitlock Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
betagainstme) wrote2009-05-15 12:45 am
betagainstme) wrote2009-05-15 12:45 am
(no subject)
A few hours after coming back to the house, after showering the mud off her body, Alice pushes the door open to the study. Carlisle sits in an oversized armchair, his attentions on the book Edward gave him for his birthday, his sock-covered feet propped up on an ottoman.
"Don't come in here if you're still dirty." He warns her, not even glancing up from his reading.
Alice laughs softly before glancing down at the soft cotton pajamas she's wearing. They don't need sleep clothes, but sometimes they're just easiest to lounge around in. "No," She murmurs, walking to his armchair. "All clean."
Carlisle shifts to the side of the armchair, setting his book on the table next to him, making room for Alice's small body as she slides into place next to him. His arm curls around her shoulders and she leans her head against his chest. These moments, where she feels like a daughter curled in her father's arms, are some of her favourite. She loves these moments, the quiet contentness that fills them as they just sit there.
"Sorry for almost attacking you with the mud." She whispers, staring at their feet.
Carlisle laughs, his hand stroking through her hair, tugging at the end of a strand. "I forgive you, ma fille."
"Merci, Papa." Alice grins up at him. She loves this, she truly does. She's constantly searching to fill that void of family in her heart, body and soul, and they have filled it. Esme in all of her love, Edward in his wondertwin-ness with Alice, Emmett is the perfect older brother (even if she's older than he is...he just fills the role as needed) and Rosalie is what Alice imagines all sisters are like.
And Carlisle...Carlisle is, more often than not, her father.
Idly, he drops a kiss to her forehead and curls his fingers around her shoulder, tugging her closer and grabbing his book again, settling back to read, his daughter content at his side.
♥
"Don't come in here if you're still dirty." He warns her, not even glancing up from his reading.
Alice laughs softly before glancing down at the soft cotton pajamas she's wearing. They don't need sleep clothes, but sometimes they're just easiest to lounge around in. "No," She murmurs, walking to his armchair. "All clean."
Carlisle shifts to the side of the armchair, setting his book on the table next to him, making room for Alice's small body as she slides into place next to him. His arm curls around her shoulders and she leans her head against his chest. These moments, where she feels like a daughter curled in her father's arms, are some of her favourite. She loves these moments, the quiet contentness that fills them as they just sit there.
"Sorry for almost attacking you with the mud." She whispers, staring at their feet.
Carlisle laughs, his hand stroking through her hair, tugging at the end of a strand. "I forgive you, ma fille."
"Merci, Papa." Alice grins up at him. She loves this, she truly does. She's constantly searching to fill that void of family in her heart, body and soul, and they have filled it. Esme in all of her love, Edward in his wondertwin-ness with Alice, Emmett is the perfect older brother (even if she's older than he is...he just fills the role as needed) and Rosalie is what Alice imagines all sisters are like.
And Carlisle...Carlisle is, more often than not, her father.
Idly, he drops a kiss to her forehead and curls his fingers around her shoulder, tugging her closer and grabbing his book again, settling back to read, his daughter content at his side.
♥