A/N: Here's another one-shot about the house. I'm not sure how I feel about it writing wise but hopefully you all like it. I promise I'll have an update for A Bounty of Paint Pots soon, I just need to figure some things out first and this is easier to write. Let me know what you think and what room you think I should do next in the series or anything else you want to see. Thanks! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.
Emma pushed sweaty hair from her forehead, the breeze coming off the water instantly turning the suntanned skin clammy. Not that Emma minded at all. Now discomfort seemed very different. Because now she knew it was only temporary. Before, well, the darkness had been very persuasive.
Emma shook herself out of the thoughts and bent back to work, using the scraper she'd bought at the hardware store earlier that day to peel at the paint on the deck. It was the first project on their new house, which had closed the previous day. Killian had thought she'd lost it again when she suggested painting the deck before moving all their furniture in. But Emma couldn't shake the need to fix up the outside of the house before she moved in. This house was her- their- new beginning and she needed it fresh, to look like a clean slate. To reflect them.
Killian had eventually given up on arguing, finally getting that Emma wouldn't have it any other way. Just like the realtor had figured it out when Emma didn't want to push the sellers into an obscenely cheap offer that might take days to be accepted. She wanted what was right and she wanted it now, no time for arguing or bartering. Hence why they had the keys to the house on Albatross Lane within a week. And why she was covered in old white paint chips, kneeling on a salt weathered deck.
Emma scraped at the paint in long, hard strokes while she waited for Killian to come back from the hardware store. He'd left a half hour previously to get some lumber to fix the bottom step of the porch and a few cans of exterior paint. Emma knew that she could avoid the pain in her hands and knees by snapping her fingers to remove the paint but she didn't want to use magic. She wanted to feel like she had done something herself under nothing more than the power of her own two hands.
A beige truck rumbled into the driveway as she was nearing completion of the main part of the deck, the rungs her next mission. David and Killian jumped out, grabbing the supplies from the bed of the truck. The two men had bonded while Emma was gone, a bond that hadn't been forgotten when the search for Emma had ended. It may have even been strengthened, obvious when Killian had denied Emma's offer to drive him into town, saying he'd call Dave instead.
Killian walked up the path Henry had made out of flattened beach rocks the previous evening, paint cans hanging from hand and hook while David followed with the 2x4s. Henry had been ecstatic that Emma had no hesitation in the house and therefore hadn't questioned her need to fix up the outside first, probably scared questioning would make her start to doubt herself. The path Henry had serenely said as he meticulously placed the stones was important as it was meant to lead them home.
"Hello, love," Killian greeted, setting the paint cans on the step that wasn't partially rotted. "You've been busy."
Emma sat back, leaning against the porch railings. She nodded. "It feels good," she told him. "Should be ready to paint as soon as I finish the rungs."
Killian gave her a proud smile, the one she'd been getting a lot lately. Killian was so thrilled to have her back, not just from the darkness but from the all-consuming sadness and guilt, that he was pleased at whatever she did, be that make toast or completely redo a deck.
"I'm sure your mother wouldn't mind helping with that," David told coming back from a second trip to the truck with his tool kit.
"I'll call her after lunch," Emma replied. Even though Mary Margaret was trying to smother her with kindness and protection Emma couldn't deny that she enjoyed having her back, understood the need to dote and be close. Anyways, it was what everyone else was trying to do to her. It wasn't her place to pick and choose who was allowed to show affection.
"She'd love that," David replied with a smile as he got down to work on the step. Killian kissed Emma's sweaty forehead, not seeming to mind a bit, then went to help David. Emma watched them for a few moments, working together so well she barely recognized the past enemies. It wasn't until Killian looked up, catching her staring and winking in return that she went back to work, paint chips flying from the rungs.
By one o'clock they were all sweating, the sun high in the sky, but they were done of the prep stage. The step was new and sturdy, the deck boards and rungs scraped down to greyed wood. They all sat in the shade of the house, relaxing.
"Call your mother," David mumbled, sun coaxing him to sleep, "I need Granny's."
Emma laughed and sent a quick text to her mother which was equally as quickly replied to. "She's on her way," Emma mumbled, the tiredness of physical work settling into her bones as well. She slid sideways and nestled into Killian's side, his arm going around her instantly. The soft stroking of her hair by his gentle hand lulled her to sleep.
"Well I can see you all are working hard," an amused voice called, waking Emma. She jumped, knocking over the sleeping Killian as she scrambled up. She startled so easily now, eyes darting frantically to spot the newcomer. But it was just Mary Margaret in front of them wearing a pair of old overalls and a striped grey shirt underneath, arms laden with paint brushes and bags of Granny's takeout. "Oh, Emma," Mary Margaret cooed when she noticed how Emma's chest heaved. Emma put her hand up, she was fine, just needed a second. With time calming herself was becoming easier.
The commotion had woken the two men, Killian standing as soon as he saw Emma. He slid his arm around her stomach, pulling her against his chest. He held tight, forcing her to breathe at the same pace he did. To anyone passing on the street it would just look like a couple enjoying each other's company but it was so much more than that. It was now habit, the routine staving off day-wrecking and daily panic attacks.
After a few slow breaths Emma pushed herself away, trying to smile warmly at Mary Margaret who was worrying at her lip, glancing frantically at David.
"I hope you brought lots," Emma called cheerily, "I'm starving."
Her tone broke Mary Margaret from her trance. "Have you ever known me not to bring enough food?" The rest of the crowd laughed, David taking the bags from his wife and spreading the takeout containers out on the deck. It was too nice to eat inside and it wasn't as if there was a table in there at all anyways.
"I think some lupins would be nice out here, don't you think?" Mary Margaret asked, motioning to the expanse of grass in front of them.
Emma gazed out at her yard as she chewed slowly on her grilled cheese. The yard made her feel grown up, like she'd finally got out of the system. Emma knew logically that she had a long time ago and now even had a family of her own. But her own house, with a proper yard, that was different. Most of the homes she'd been in as a child had been shared, either apartments, duplexes or so crowded that there was no space to think. Even Mary Margaret and David had an apartment. None of them had yards Emma could decide what to do with. A lot of her childhood spaces had small patches of grass but she'd have had her hide tanned if she had tried to plant anything in them. And it wasn't as if jail had a lot of green space.
"And maybe a rose bush," Killian mused beside Emma before stealing an onion ring from her takeout box. "My mother had a wild rose bush." Emma put her head against Killian's shoulder trying to comfort as well as show her appreciation for his sharing.
"I could go to the greenhouse today," Mary Margaret suggested, excitement lighting up her eyes. "The gardens would be done by tonight."
"You just don't want to paint," David accused lightly to which Mary Margaret shrugged lightly.
"Everyone knows I'm better with wildlife." Mary Margaret gave them a smug little smile as she stood. "And plants count too, Charming-" she called, cutting off any further argument from her spouse. She grabbed David's keys, gave the yard one last appraising look, then disappeared with the truck, intent on loading the bed with flower pots.
With lunch finished and cleared the three who were left began work again, painting the deck and the door. The deck was done in a bright white, the door in an equally vibrant red. They were the original colours that had been on the house when bought and Emma wanted to keep it that way. Killian hadn't had a problem with it either, even coming home the first day after seeing the place, no ownership over the house at all, with a brass door knocker in the shape of an anchor.
Mary Margaret returned an hour after she'd left, truck laden with not only lupins and rose bushes but all kinds of wildflowers and new topsoil. She set to work, just as determined as the others to finish that day. Henry arrived after school and was not-so-gently coerced by his grandmother into helping her with the flowers.
By seven the sun was starting to set and they were all exhausted and dirty, paint splattered and sweaty. They stood in a group in front of the house, Emma leaning against Killian. Emma hadn't yet got her strength back from her time with the darkness and she may have pushed herself a bit too much that day. But Killian would always be there to hold her up and that was what mattered.
"It's perfect," Emma sighed, examining the day's handiwork. The paint was still wet but it was bright and chip-free. The porch was welcoming, the perfect place to put some seating to enjoy the ocean breeze while eating breakfast. The door was a sharp contrast to the greyed shingles covering the saltshaker house. The gardens teemed with lupins and daisies and brown-eyed Susan's. A special garden was in the front, two different wild rose bushes watered and ready to grow, bordered by more of the bedrock Henry had collected. The place looked like a new beginning. A home to make a life in. For Emma it couldn't have been any better.
Until she arrived the next morning to find a porch swing had been hung and the anchor door knocker was up, and well, she had to eat her words.