Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I most certainly do not obtain any economic benefit out of them.

Milk For a Little Stranger

Elsie stood by the kitchen sink washing the dishes from breakfast. Outside the window, the summer day was in full force and bursting with colour. Golden sunbeams waltzed across the window pane and timidly danced upon her face. Sometimes, annoyingly venturing into her eyes, making her squint.

Charles was humming outside and Elsie could hear him through the open kitchen door. Her concentrated frown eased a bit at hearing him hum. One of the many sweet things that dissolved the rigid façade of Mr Carson into Charles. Her Charlie. The man she saw beneath the starched livery and eloquent phrases. The man she fell in love with.

His humming stopped quite suddenly and left Elsie wondering what he was up to. With her arms nearly elbow deep in soapy water she tried to think of the various tasks that might have made him stop his humming which she so enjoyed. The sensible side of her, the Housekeeper, knew it was futile trying to make such a ridiculous catalogue. There might have been infinite reasons. He could be occupied in some task in the back garden which she could never have predicted, especially since he had taken up gardening and seemed to enjoy it. But the woman in her who was completely in love, couldn't help it. This side surprised her but more it importantly reassured her, that she was completely happy and wonderfully in love and loved in return.

She heard his footsteps approach the kitchen and her head turned instinctively towards the kitchen door. Within seconds he came into her view. Entering the kitchen he walked past her. Her eyes followed his path and raised an involuntary eyebrow when she saw him reach for the bottle of milk, which still had about a quarter of it left. He did not witness her expression and nonchalantly proceeded to walk past her and reached for the saucer with the chipped edge that was placed at the end of the rack where Elsie had placed some of their everyday china.

Elsie eyed him suspiciously unable to guess what he was up to but trying to imagine nonetheless. But she couldn't stand her curiosity and spoke as he reached the kitchen door, about to step outside into the garden.

"May I kindly know what you need those for?" Elsie asked with a substantial dose of sarcasm in her voice, finally making a vague guess as to what he was up to.

"Nothing," came Charles' reply in a voice that was higher in pitch than usual.

Elsie knew instantly that he was trying to cover up. Having known him for more than thirty years, she knew very well that he was. And of course, he was a hopeless liar.

"Charlie!" Elsie admonished strongly, an eyebrow raised. Her expression a warning him.

"What?" he shrugged, trying to brush it off.

"What is that you want those for? You aren't possibly going to…" she trailed off, knowing now fully his intentions but wanting to hear it from him all the same.

"Oh alright," he sighed, drooping his shoulders slightly.

"So?" Elsie urged him.

"I was going to give a little milk to that little kitten," he admitted with pleading eyes.

"Charlie Carson don't you dare!" she warned him, fixing him with a stern look. One of her best 'housekeeper' looks.

"Why? It's a poor little thing and it wouldn't do any harm to give it a little milk. We are getting a new bottle tomorrow. We don't need this," he raised the almost empty bottle of milk to her line of sight and argued trying to mirror her expression, determined to stand his ground.

"It's not about the milk and I don't mind you feeding it Charlie but I know that the next thing you want is for it to move into the cottage!" she protested and Charles let out an annoyed grunt.

"So what? It'll be nice to have a little companion. You'd like it!"

"No I will most definitely not! I don't want it anywhere near the house!"

"You're being unreasonable."

"Am I? Or are you going to take care of it and clean the messes it would make in the house hm?" she asked raising an eyebrow and the back of one soapy wrist coming rest on her hip.

"I would!" Charles replied, furrowing his eyebrows and straightening his back and shoulders.

"Let's be realistic Charlie. You're going to get tired of it when he scratches your chair, leaves fur on your shirts or does… well… who knows what worse things it would do!"

"You can't convince me otherwise on this Elsie," he stated, his expression one of determination.

"Oh very well Mr Carson! That little rascal will be your complete responsibility! Let's see how long it will last. But not inside the house, mind ye. And it goes straight out if I end up having to look after it! So don't you dare shirk your responsibilities Charles Carson," she huffed and turned back to the sink and started scrubbing the dishes with an added vigour, muttering angrily beneath her breath.

Two weeks later…

Elsie and Charles were tucked in bed. Elsie was leaning against the headboard with her pillows propped behind her back, reading. Her reading glasses perched upon her nose. Beside her Charles was… playing with the kitten which he had named Tiddles. He had initially wanted to call it Peth after Elspeth but Elsie didn't fancy a kitten named after her not even part of her name. And she didn't think it was a proper name anyway, a fact which Charles realised later on but didn't admit to Elsie.

The kitten was lying on its back on the duvet cover and Charles was tickling it, eliciting tiny meows of contentment from Tiddles. Elsie turned to look at the two, sighed and returned to her book. She didn't like it when the kitten was in the room let alone the bed, but she loved to see her dear husband so happy and carefree that she decided that she would have to tolerate it.

When Charles paused Tiddles' entertainment for a moment, it got back to its feet and ventured towards Elsie's side. Rubbing against her elbow, it let out a tiny meow looking at Elsie with wide, curious eyes.

"Look at you, ye little rascal. Getting comfortable, aye? Off ye go to that side. He's the one who loves ye. Not me," Elsie said nudging the kitten lightly with her elbow and pushing it towards Charlie's side.

"Oh come on Elsie. You love him don't you? You're its mom," Charles added winking at Elsie, a silly grin adorning his face.

"No, I only tolerate it. And I'm not its mom," Elsie replied looking at Charles sternly, from above her glasses.

Retrieving the kitten back to his side, Charles lifted it up to his eye level in both hands and whispered loudly so that Elsie could hear as well, "Mommy's angry, isn't she?"

"Charlie!" Elsie warned, her eyes fixed upon the book.

"Mommy looks beautiful when she's angry," Charles said to the kitten who was lying on the duvet now, not bothering to make his voice into the mock whisper from before.

Elsie sighed and took off her glasses. She couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips. This playful side of her Charles often annoyed her, but she found it adorable all the same. She would never admit it to him, but he did indeed look incredibly adorable when he was playing with the kitten and it was a sight she liked to watch. But only when it didn't involve her.

Placing her glasses and her book on the bed side table, she adjusted her pillows as normal and fluffed them rather vigorously and scooted down the bed to lay her head upon the pillow, glancing at Charles from the corner of her eye. She was only pretending to be angry and she hoped she was doing a good job of it.

"Looks like Mommy's going to sleep Tiddles," Charles mock whispered to the kitten, knowing that Elsie was only pretending to be angry. He had noticed the tiny smile that had crept on to her lips earlier. "Let's give her a kiss."

Holding the kitten in both his hands, Charles brought it close to Elsie's face.

"Charles!" Elsie screeched and moved her face away causing Charles to chuckle and then laugh.

"Alright off you go now," Charles placed the kitten on the floor, and tried to suppress his giggles, yet a few managed to escape. He watched the kitten make its way to its basket at the corner of the room and settle down, curling up into a furry ball. He laid his head on the pillow and turned towards Elsie.

"Good night, my love," he said, placing a kiss on Elsie's head.

"Good night Charlie," Elsie whispered closing her eyes. She could never keep up her act when he spoke to her in that tender tone that almost melted her.

Charles wanted to turn back and switch off his bedside lamp, but he kept on watching Elsie for a few seconds. The peaceful rise and fall of her breath. The loose tendrils of hair framing her face.

"You are not angry with me, are you?" Charles asked cautiously. He watched how Elsie's lips formed into a smile while her eyes remained closed. Like a blooming flower, he couldn't help but think.

"Annoyed perhaps. But never angry," she said and opened her eyes. Her eyes shining in the dim light, her smile entrancing him.

Charles leant towards Elsie and softly kissed her lips and she smiled against his lips just before they parted. The smile still dancing on her lips, she opened her eyes. She placed her hand on his forehead and pushed the errant curl resting on his forehead to a side. How she loved that adorable curl. It always made him look more "Charlie" than "Charles."

"How I love you Elsie!" he sighed contentedly as she continued to play with his curl, her fingers dancing lightly upon his forehead.

"I know," she whispered. "And I love you too."

A mischievous spark dawned upon his eyes. "And you love Tiddles too?"

"Ugh…" Elsie grunted and muttered beneath her breath, rolling her eyes at him. "fear beag, feargach." (little, annoying fellow)

"I love how you mumble away in Gaelic," Charles chuckled.

Elsie frowned playfully at Charles but snuggled closer to him and muttered again as she rested her head on the crook of his shoulder, "Amaideach seann romansach." (silly old romantic)

"I hope it's something nice you're saying." Charles said, looking down at the sleeping form of his wife with a smile.

"Don't be so sure." Elsie mumbled with her eyes closed.

Charles chuckled at his wife's words and shook his head. Leaning slightly away he switched his bedside lamp off and settled down to sleep.

"Good night Elsie," He whispered and kissed Elsie's head.

"Oidhche mhath," (good night) she whispered with a sleepy smile. "Duine gòrach." (silly man.)

THE END.

Hope you all are keeping safe and doing well! Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews on my previous story. And I also hope you enjoyed this little story too. It was "in the works" for too long and I finally managed to publish it. I relied entirely on Google Translate for the Scottish Gaelic translations, and I hope there's no mistakes but I apologise in advance if there are any. (The translations are given in italics closer to the dialogue to make it easier.) I would be very grateful if you could leave your thoughts about this story in the reviews. I love reading your reviews. See you soon! And in the meantime stay safe!