noteful | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

It's amazing what a difference a shower can make.

Oh, she's still very much got the chickenpox. She's still running a low-grade fever (but that is, at least, preferable to the dangerously high one she had when are arrived), she's still vaguely tired, she's still contagious, and she is thoroughly itchy.

But she's clean, her hair is combed out and neatly braided, her nails have been cut as short as she could manage, and she's dressed in real (if very loose) clothes instead of pajamas. She's starting to feel properly human again.

She's even actually hungry for the first time in about four days.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Esme likes me being at home," Carlisle laughs. "She's not the biggest fan of Milliways."

He hunted at home as well, so his eyes are brighter than they have been of late.

"I'm very sorry to have been the reason you were away from home, but I'm very glad you were here.

"Thank you."

"Of course." Almost dismissive of the need for thanking in the first place, on the whole.

"You're important."

"I'm -- "

-- really not.

" -- going to blush and fuss with my soup now."

Meg is bad at this sort of thing.

"Since you wouldn't be able to truly blush unless you were feeling at least slightly better, I am okay with this turn of events."

Serene.

Well, then, the good news is that she definitely looks more flushed now than she did when he got here.

"At least slightly better," she agrees.

"Does this mean I'm past the scary part?"

"Oh, I think so. So long as you're not scratching -- we don't want any scars for the wedding day after all."

"Scars aren't exactly on the list with something old and something new, are they?"

Meg holds her hands up. "I cut my nails as short as I could manage." Even with or below the tips of her fingers. "I doubt I could do much scratching if I tried."

Carlisle doesn't plant the idea in her head of using implements to do the scratching.

"You must be bored, though. Is there anything I could bring you on that front? There's something called squopera I'm told is intriguing."

"Edward brought books and music."

She's gotten more used out of the latter than the former so far.

"A . . . squopera?"

Carlisle winces.

"I didn't ask. I thought maybe you'd know."

Meg laughs a little and coughs twice, then clears her throat before continuing.

"I have no idea what a squopera is, no.

"I think maybe I'll stick with the books and music for now, thank you."

"Might be the more sensible option."

And it's one of those times that...Carlisle really doesn't know what to say.

"I don't usually do this part at work."

"Hanging out and chatting with recovering patients?

"I suppose you could take my blood pressure or something. Do something doctorish."

If that would help.

"Or we could pick a topic that's not related to my illness or only somewhat related and give that a try."

"The wedding seems safe. Or is it? The only perspective I have on modern weddings is from Rosalie, and that doesn't really count so much."

"Safe enough," Meg says. "I'm not likely to ask you for your opinions on twenty-seven different flower arrangement options, at least.

"Eloping still looks quite appealing some days, though.

"But I have a dress that wouldn't be at all appropriate for an elopement, and I really like it."

"I'm sure Alain will fall all over himself in impatience when he sees you as well."

It was a little bit more complicated, for Carlisle and Esme -- but she was so beautiful.

Meg smiles. "He's not allowed to see the dress till the wedding. Well, no one is, but especially not Alain.

"He keeps asking me about it when he thinks my guard is down, throws it into a series of questions about other things and the like. It's kind of ridiculous."

And kind of adorable.

"Is he not the man to like surprises?"

"I don't think he minds them, usually. He likes to plan them, certainly."

Meg is actually the one who generally doesn't like surprises.

"I think he's just curious. And it's basically a game at this point, too. His asking and my not answering."

There's a slight pause, and then Meg asks, "Would you like to come? To our wedding. There's no theme and I promise you can choose your own suit."

Carlisle looks very nearly startled by the idea.

Leaning in, "Are you quite sure?"

Meg nods.

"I am, yes. Quite sure.

"I'm not really the kind the girl who invites people to her wedding on a whim, you know."

"Well, I didn't think so. But."

You know.

Vampire and all.

"There are complications, potentially."

"I know.

"But if you'd like to come, you'd be welcome."

"I'd very much like to try."

"Now, what am I allowed to get you? It's the end of the universe, and I'm positive you're going to take all the fun out of this."

Meg laughs a little. "Probably.

"Anything that could reasonably be expected to exist in Canada in 1991."

"So a good baseball team doesn't count."

OOH, BURN.

The Blue Jays are actually about to have a pretty good year.

But Meg doesn't know that.

"No.

"If you decide to get me a baseball team, it has to be a bad one."

"Castiel and I will get together and come up with a plan."

Or something less awkward, like a spice rack.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only