Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything remotely attached to this show, only the basis of this story.


CHAPTER THREE
THE BEGINNING


"Separate rooms?"

April folds both arms over her chest as she questions the move, watching as some polished man in a dark blue uniform carries a box full of her belongings to an almost empty bedroom.

It's quaint, but still bigger than her now former living and kitchen spaces combined.

The walls are a faded white colour, leaning towards a pale tone of grey, but Amelia has informed her that she can have them painted if she wants to.

She wants to redecorate the room already, feeling like a teenager moving into her brand new apartment for the very first time. Cold colours have never made her comfortable, have never made her feel at ease.

But she refuses to hire someone to paint it. Why pay someone else to do something you could just do yourself for free?

"Yes." The brunette nods, slaps a cushion she'd picked up from inside one of the boxes against her chest and smiles gently, "Nobody is going to force you into his bed, April. We aren't those kinds of people." Amelia reassures her, plucks on the corner of the knitted pillow, "But, you know, I would advise you to." She whispers softly and April frowns.

"Advise me to what?"

"Get in bed with him." Her eyes widen as she talks as though it was obvious, "It'll be worth it."

Does she-? April holds herself back from asking how she could possibly know about that. Had she slept with him? Were they once a thing? Were they still a thing, maybe?

Too many questions for only the second day.

This was such an insane twenty four hours, though, the now bride-to-be tells herself, feeling her shoulders drop as she looks around her new residence.

It's minimalistic, and neat, and it's more of a living space than it is a home.

"Did you knit this, by the way? It feels like it's handcrafted?" Amelia continues to fidget with the cushion cover casually as she glances up at the redhead, raises a brow curiously.

"I did, yeah." April confirms, slipping her arms out of their fold and licking her lips. Was she not allowed to knit? Did that make her look like some crazy old cat lady?

Amelia beams then, "You knitted it?"

"I crochet'ed it."

"Housewives are going to love you!" She drops the pillow then, flinging it back down on top of the opened box full of household items.

She steps forward, places both hands around April's upper arms before talking, "So, listen, we're gonna have to get you ready soon to head to the courthouse. But, you know, don't be worried. It's all arranged. All you've got to do is show up and smile and beam and be all bride-like. And get married." She adds as an afterthought, senses the redhead's slight hesitation. "If you want out, tell me now before it's too late, April."

"I'm alright. I'm…happy, even?"

Is that terrible of her? To be happy she'd marrying some semi-successful guy and getting everything she's ever wanted without having to bat so much as an eyelid? Isn't that selfish of her?

She kind of hates herself for enjoying this; there are people who could do with a hell of a lot better than she actually needed, and yet she gets a lifestyle upgrade because she's, what, pristine? Untouched? Wholesome? That's so messed up.

"That's great then! Gosh, I thought I was going to have to talk you into it but you…you seem sure? You're certain this is what you want, right?"

"I'm sure."

"Wonderful." Amelia marvels, eyes her as though she was some kind of magical creature, a miraculous specimen, "Ah, okay, this is all going according to plan."

Does she sound like a Disney villain? Yes. Definitely.

"We're going to head down to the salon and you're going to get all dressed and freshened up, okay? Meanwhile, these guys are gonna finish unpacking your stuff and by the time you get back later, you'll have everything already in its place!"

"Is it-" April pauses, knits both brows slightly when she notices one of the uniformed men place an ornament somewhere on a shelf she would never place it herself. "Is it alright if I do it myself? The unpacking and stuff? I mean, I'll be coming back here after the, uh, wedding anyway, so…"

The brunette shakes her head, lets her hands drop from the petite woman's arms and smiles politely. "That's fine."

She agrees with the decision, understanding that April still wants to maintain a little control over her new life.

"We were going to do a little press interview after it was over with, you know, alert the media that their prime steak has some pretty decent french fries by his side now, but Jackson thought it'd be a bad idea. He wants to hold off until you're settled." She explains, earning a small blush and smile from the redhead in return.

April nods slowly, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thinks of something.

"I know I said something last night about fries but I just- Did he mention my-"

"That you referred to yourself as mayonnaise?" Amelia grins, tilts her head to one side and pushes her brown curls behind her ear, "He tells me everything. Of course I know about the mayonnaise nicknaming."

"I probably sounded like such an idiot, didn't I? Did he find it funny? He looked like he did." She breaks off, glances down at the hardwood floors, in deep thought, "I mean, he went along with it so-"

"April?" The slightly older woman catches her attention again, snapping her fingers sharply to get her focus, "He found it charming. He finds you charming."

"That's good." The redhead breathes out, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders.

"Also, you know what?"

She's almost a little bit too frightened to ask. "What?"

"I personally think he's the mayonnaise."

"And I'm the fries?"

"You're a lucky find, April. And…good fries are hard to come by, these days." She smirks, teases her softly and watches as her new project giggles. "You ready to go reinvent yourself?"

"Absolutely."


Within the span of exactly three hours and twenty six minutes, she is no longer April Kepner, farm girl with no social life and too many notebooks than should be deemed necessary.

She is now April Avery, wife of a somewhat important political figure of this windy State, and role model to middle class housewives everywhere.

She can use her past, and upbringing in a small midwestern town to her, their, advantage, apparently.

Saying she comes from a farm in the little known town of Moline, Ohio will supposedly do winders to her image, which will then turn Jackson into an awe-inspiring hunk of a man who puts love above class.

Just wait until the press get ahold of 'how they met'. She almost wants to laugh at the lie, and if it wasn't cute and what she could have written better herself than she would.

It was during one of the campaign parties, after a successful evening. The champagne was flowing, she was laughing, and suddenly she caught his eyes. And the rest was history.

April just hopes she won't have to explain any of this to her now ex-coworkers.

"You look amazing."

He only says it when it's over, when they're now officially married and she has some probably-ridiculously-shamefully expensive ring on her finger. It shines, and she beams and he smiles, keeps an arm around her waist as they leave the courthouse.

Well, that was quick.

"Thank you."

April bites her bottom lip, flicks her gaze down toward her hand, keeps a steady focus on the oversized engagement ring oh her finger. Damn designers and their jewellery.

She'd been left in Amelia's hand for the two and a half hours leading up to the "wedding". Her hair had been cut so it was just below shoulder length, a couple of golden but discreet blonde highlights had been added to liven up her natural-but-coloured red shade. She'd been makeup'd, and dressed in another tight dress that she felt abnormal in.

It supposedly held in her already small waist, and it cut off just below the knees, and the mid-length sleeves and small décolté were tasteful and "on point", so the stylist had told her.

And she'd been informed that once she'd arrive back at the apartment her new wardrobe would be filled entirely of this kind of thing. Tight dresses and heels and maybe tights and flats and blazers and cardigans, but casual clothes would be kept in a small section of the wardrobe. But it'd be rare that she could wear them out and about.

April had been a little anxious when she'd heard the news, that her sense of style had been that of a librarian and not of a sexy but reserved lady. The whole thing made her cringe almost.

She wasn't this person. She didn't wear fancy dresses all of the time, and the only occasion she'd ever wear heels to was a party or some kind of event.

She liked flats, but her favourite black ballerina pumps apparently now stuffed in a trash can somewhere. Her grey jacket had been reportedly hung up in the back of her closet, to only ever emerge when she headed back down to Ohio.

She feels almost insulted by it all, truthfully, but she signed up for this. She knew what she was getting into.

They're stopped at the end of the town's main hall when she slips out of his grasp, stares up at her husband with calm eyes.

"What do we, uh- What do I- What do I do now?"

She's so damn clueless about it all that it's almost laughable, she thinks to herself, feels her cheeks redden slightly when he smirks, leans down and surprisingly kisses her forehead.

He lingers, keeps a hand cupping the side of her face as he breathes out, into her, voice all hushed and low and turning her on. Wait… what?

"I have work to do but you can go home, if you want. If you want to order anything or…something then just give them my name, okay?" Jackson suggests, takes a quick peek down at her with those green eyes she's already becoming familiar with. "I'm not sure you being in the office would be a good idea right now, if I'm honest. Didn't Amelia say you wanted to unpack or something?"

He's smiling and she does it back, takes a deep breath when he moves away from her, hands still clasping her jaw softly though.

"I did. I do." She nods, licks her lips and diverts her gaze towards the main doors. "I should probably get going then."

"I can have Mark drive you if you want?" Ah, yes, Mark. The kind of rude grey-haired man from yesterday.

"I'll be fine.

"You don't have a car with you."

"I'll call a cab."

He chuckles, reaches into his pocket for a second, "You're not calling a cab. That's not- Here." He grabs her hand gently, drops a small clump of keys down into her palm, "Take mine. You know which one it is?"

"Probably the super duper shiny one parked out front?"

"Yeah. D'you remember the address?"

"Do you have a GPS?"

"Yeah?"

"And have you entered your address into the GPS before?"

"I have."

"Then I think I'll be fine." She grins, pushes her hair behind her ears before twirling the keys around swiftly, "I'll, uh, see you later then?" She frowns for a microsecond, lifts a brow with uncertainty.

"Yes." Jackson confirms, slipping both hands into his trouser pockets when she heads out the door. "See you tonight."

"Yep."

Wasn't it now technically their wedding night?

Oh.

Damn it.


"Hi. I'm looking for some paint."

April smiles sweetly as she slides both hands across the countertop of the hardware store, shuffling back and forth uncomfortably in her heels.

A little pitstop on the way back to her new home wouldn't hurt, would it?

"I can help you with that, yeah." The teenage boy behind the counter pops his gum, flicks shut his comic book and looks up at her with wide eyes. He stares her up and down for a second, raising a brow inquisitively. "M'am, are you sure you're in the right store?"

He almost laughs at her attire, obviously confused why someone who looks fresh out of a snazzy women's clothing catalogue would be buying paint.

The redhead pulls a face, "Don't call me m'am. That's mean, and rude, and just-" She stops squints both eyes at the boy dangerously. "I need some paint."

"Hang on." He holds up a finger then, shuffles beneath the counter desk for a moment, searching for a booklet of some kind. The young blonde pulls out a stack of colour palettes attached on some sort of keyring.

He extends it out to April with a polite smile, almost a little too eagerly.

She sharply pulls the selection from his grasp, watches as he pops another blow of his bubblegum.

"Do you have all of these in store?"

"Mostly."

"What about this one?" She stops rummaging through the pile and plucks the small cardboard with an array of red-pink tones between her fingers.

"Pink?" He nods, shrugs casually. "Yeah. We got those."

"Great. This one?" She taps her index finger against a colour called Puce, a darkened shade of red with a slight maroon feel to it.

The boy stands up from his stool then, heads out from behind the desk and leads her down the narrow path of the store, stopping in front of the shelving stacks full of pain tins.

"Puce?"

"Puce." She pronounces properly, closing the palettes back up as he pulls a large tin of the paint down from the second shelf, plonking it down on the concrete floor heavily.

"Puce." He nods triumphantly, "That all?"

"Yeah." The walls are already a light grey shade, so she only wants to paint a feature wall or two, just to bring a little warmth and comfort to her new room.

"You got a wallet under that dress, or what?" He eyes her carefully, carries the tin over to the till after picking up a roller brush and tray from the opposing shelf and he plops the, down before heading back around the desk, ringing up the bill.

April fakes a smile, stares down at her dress. She's already stuffed the car keys down her cleavage. "You can just…charge it to my husband?" It feels weird to say it. The word husband alone is enough to boggle her mind right now, but using his money feels wrong somehow. Then again, it's not like she has any other option.

"Okay. Name?"

"Jackson Avery." She clears her throat, avoids his stare when the boy grimaces, leans back in his seat and stops typing.

"No shit."

"Yes. So…" She waves a hand around, encourages him to finish checking the items out.

"Okay."

"Done?"

"Yeah." He smirks, "Would you like a hand carrying it to your car, Mrs Avery?"

She would cringe if it wasn't for the saving face that she needs to do.

"No, thank you." She holds up both hands and securely wraps the large tin in her arms, managing to lift it off the counter with slight difficulty. She's a lot stronger than she looks.


"Damn."

She has the unopened boxes still stashed away in the corner of the room as she paints.

She'd found an old sheet to lay out on the floor to avoid any paint spatters as she decorates, stretches up on tiptoes to reach the near top of the walls with her roller brush.

April takes a step back after a breath, dropping the roller back into the tray and moving her pain-spattered hands to her jean-clad hips.

She'd found a pair of loose fitting casual jeans hung up in the closet along with a simple but cropped white t-shirt, which hung casually from her right shoulder as she painted.

She was bare foot, her hair pulled into a messy side-ponytail.

The colour looked good, better than she actually thought it would. It was warming and matched well with the grey and the furniture already in the room.

Her accessories were mismatched anyway so that wouldn't matter much, she thinks. Who would care?

"You want any help?"

She gasps when she hears a voice come from the doorway to the room, and she spins around to see Jackson stood leaning against the doorframe, navy tie loosened and sleeves rolled up on his white shirt.

He smiles, stands all handsome and smugly, watching her. He'd been there for a couple of minutes, watching her lean up and struggle and succeed. She was cute when she was hard at work.

"I think I'm finished." She dishes proudly, nods mostly to herself when he steps into the room, though he takes a quick second to kick off his shoes and toss them back into the hallway before walking onto her sheet-turned-canvas.

"Looks good." The man shares his opinion, squinting an eye as he takes in his, her, surroundings. "You have a lot of stuff, don't you?" He notices the boxes piled away in the corner, a small smirk toying on his lips when she stutters uncomfortably.

"I have a kind of- I- I keep stuff. You know, like, keepsakes?"

"If they're keepsakes then that's probably why you keep them." He explains, dishing the obvious. Jackson laughs gently at her expression.

The redhead stands still for a moment, unmoving and focusing on her boxes. "I kind of hoard weird possessions?" She attempts.

"You're a hoarder?" His green eyes widen and he shakes his head once, but keeps that everlasting smirk on his face. "Oh, no."

"Not a hoarder. Just- I write a lot, in my diaries, and I keep them. I've kept them all since I was eleven."

"How many do you have exactly?" He questions her, turning his body to face her directly and pushing his sleeves even further up his strong forearms.

April shrugs slowly, briefly drops her gaze to his lips when he licks them, "Probably about 145…or something close to that." She mumbles, thinking he won't hear the number.

"You have 145 diaries?!"

"I had a lot to write about!"

"What did you write about?" His voice softens and he winks without actually winking but she can feel it in his expression. "Your boyfriends? Your dogs? Family? What kind of ice cream you liked that day?" He jokes, leaning loser into her side and nudging her side.

She rolls her eyes, pushes back and practically swats his chest with the back of her hand when she throws a hand out to elaborate. "About…stuff."

"Well, I'm going to need to read these diaries, Miss Kepner." Jackson teases, glancing down at her from the corner of his eyes.

She swallows a shaky breath, feels her guard lower and her shoulders drop at his ease to be around, "Didn't you hear? I'm an Avery now." She whispers, tilting her head to lean against his arm, earning a light chuckle in response.

It's odd, because she's only known him for a little over a day. But they're somehow already married and living together, and- Jesus!

"It's my wedding night." She breathes out quietly, the dreamt memory of what she'd always imagined for that night coming back to mind. Well, no, that wasn't happening.

"It is." He nods, obviously having heard her mumble, "Did you have plans?" He smirks, looks down at her again.

"I wish! I was going to order take-out." She confesses with a small dart of her tongue to her lips to soften them up, "You want in?"

"On disgustingly amazing food being delivered to the house without us having to move? Of course I'm in." Jackson nods, brows creased in agreement, "No better way to spend your wedding night." He voices low, teeth grazing his bottom lip as his smirk turns to a faint laugh at her crimson cheeks.

She just nods once, "I can't imagine doing anything else." She tries, "Is this what being married feels like? Takeout and laziness?"

"I think it's a little more complicated than that." He furrows his brows, a few frown lines appearing and she licks her lips when he faces her, takes a step closer. He speaks softly, husky and hushed and she almost wishes her special night was going differently than this, "Marriage requires a little more chemistry."

"How much more?"

April holds her breath when she feels his hand reach for her waist and before she can breathe out, he's pulling against him, body crashing into his front and her hands flying to his chest. She slides her palms down his torso, locks her eyes on his.

"Just a little bit."

"This much?" She leans her face up, closer to his, feels his breath along her nose as she moves, shuffles onto her tiptoes, waiting for him to move.

Their "marriage" ceremony only required the shortest of kisses, a quick peck and it was all enough.

"No?" She grins at his pause, when he doesn't reply and doesn't move, only lets her continue, "How about now?" She pushes into him, chest against his and hands sliding up his body and around his neck, slipping down the collar of his shirt.

"Give me a little bit more." He speaks softly, piercing gaze burning holes through her soul as she swallows a breath.

April sighs deeply when she feels his other hand reach for her backside, gripping her firmly in his palm as the hand on her waist travels lower, down to her hip and somehow she's being pulled up, legs around his waist and hands clasping around his neck.

Who the hell lifts someone up with one arm? Damn it.

"Is this enough?"

"No."

"You mean married couples do more than this?" She asks him mutely, lashes fluttering when he spins them around and walks over to the doorway, slamming her back into the dry wall beside the door. She gasps, steadies her grip on his shoulders when he hikes her up, hands on her ass.

"A lot more." He confirms, nods once, twice, then leans down and finally kisses her.

His lips are rough but kind, keeping a firm hold over her mouth but letting her lead the kiss.

He slips his tongue past her teeth when she moans into him, tilts her head back and links her ankles together behind his back, pulling harshly on his shoulders, as though it'd bring him, if at all possible, closer.

The redhead feels him begin to pull away after a moment, when his hands are cupping her face and she's being kept up purely by her legs and the force his body is pressing into hers.

She isn't used to this, isn't used to being made out with and kissed hungrily and talked to as such.

"Show me how much."

"No." He denies her, slowly but surely moves one hand behind him to unlink her leg, pull her down from around him.

April drops on both feet, swallows a sharp breath and pushes fallen strands of hair behind her ears with a bite of her bottom lip. She mildly blushes when he places a finger beneath her chin, tilts her head back to look up at him.

"Not yet."

Was that a promise?

"I'm gonna go order that takeout now. Chinese good for you?"

"Sure."

She just finds herself nodding, her mind and body and soul half withdrawn from life when he lets her slip away and he moves out of her sight, out of the room.

What the hell?


NOTE: I'm loving the response to this story, and it seriously means a lot to me that so many people seem to be enjoying it! Your reaction also makes it easier for me to write for this fic and I'm still high on ideas right now so I should be updating quite often whenever I can. Anyway, tell me what you think and enjoy :) x


I imagine some lovely guest reviewers will have some harsh words to say about this because it doesn't feature rape, or unicorns or rainbows, or women portrayed as submissive creatures to their men, and well, it's by me. This piece of work has feminist undertones, so if you'd rather spike your interest with a story about abuse against women and violent men, then look elsewhere. Excuse me for actually being able to write something good, of substance, in-character. Feel free to read and review something else if you already know you don't like me. Leaving anonymous hate is laughable. Have fun.