I own nothing you recognize. All original characters and storylines are my own.

Out of the Woodwork

"Whatcha workin' on?" Milla asked as she entered her Dad's workshop, barely knocking.

Clay shook his head at her presumption but continued to work. Milla pulled up a stool next to him and sat with her elbows up on the table and her chin resting on her laced fingers. He glanced over and was transported to when she was a little girl and would sit in the exact same way to watch him work. Now she was a grown woman and soon she'd have a place of her own, she wouldn't be barging into his workshop anytime she liked anymore.

"What do ya think?" Clay asked as he handed her the arm piece to the chair he was making. She unlaced her fingers and took the arm. She tested its weight, smoothness and shape before she handed it back to her Dad who looked at her.

"It's got a nice weight and you outdid yourself with the carving. Mom's gonna love it, just be sure to weather treat it since it doesn't match the dark wood theme she's got goin' on." Clay chuckled as he set down the arm and turned to his daughter.

"It's not for your Ma. I figured you'd need a new reading chair for that apartment of yours." Her eyes went wide and she opened and closed her mouth a few times before she got off the stool and hugged her father who hugged her back. She was his angel and he did what he could to make her happy. "I take it you like it?"

Milla still can't speak so she just nods against his shoulder and he smiles. She may be leaving the nest but she can take a piece of him with her.

"Write down the number on that bolt." Gemma ordered Juice as they walked through the upholstery shop. If the asshole's going to take her baby from her he might as well be useful.

Juice said nothing and wrote down the number she indicated. He had no idea what they were doing there but when she asked him to drive he had no choice but to capitulate. He was taking her baby away, after all, so he knew it was a good idea to humor her. The happier Gemma was the less likely she was to cut off his balls.

"Dark or light?" She asked him suddenly and he looked up.

"What?" He asked as he kept his pen in one hand and little notebook in the other.

"The furniture and decor you two've been hoarding for the last month. Is it light or dark?" She asked impatiently and Juice scratched the back of his neck with the pen.

"Umm, the bedroom shit is dark wood and we weren't able to get a full set of living room shit so we have a light couch and dark loveseats. The dude at the furniture place said it would work." Juice looked at Gemma who actually chuckled and shook her head.

"He saw you two comin' a mile off." She moved over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's go and get you two a matching set and if I know my babygirl she'll want it dark. Then we'll come back here and get something dark and sturdy for Clay to work with. That work for you?" He knew it wasn't really a question but he nodded anyway and followed her out of the store. She was smiling in an odd way and he knew better than to fight her. He liked having everything attached to its rightful place.

"Floral print!" Gemma said suddenly and Milla's head shot up from the book she was reading. Gemma looked at her and pointed an accusing finger. "Your couch was floral print! I thought I taught you better."

"First of all, Jesus Christ Ma. You gave me a heart attack. Secondly, what do you mean my couch was floral print?" Her brow furrowed before her mouth opened in shock. "What did you do to our storage unit?"

She looked at her mother as the Madoc temper within her fought with the cool Morrow head. If her mother had done something stupid... Milla continued to look at her mother who looked steadily at her, finally dropping her finger.

"Oh don't look at me like that missy. I went shopping with your man and he told me about your mix up with the furniture guy. He just took me to the storage unit to exchange your living room set for one that matched." Milla stared at her mother and had to clench and unclench her jaw to keep from saying something she'd regret. After she took a couple of deep breaths she was finally able to speak without yelling.

"It took us three hours to find a couch we liked. It was big enough, soft yet firm with a stable frame and a pattern we agreed on. The loveseat and chair matched the stems. It was perfect." Milla looked down, she suddenly felt sad. The couch had been absolutely perfect and now she knew she had to live with a different set. Something that fit Mother Gemma's specifications.

"The couch was nice except for the pattern. Don't worry, we didn't exchange it, we just got the moron who made the sale to reupholster the set for free since he sold you mismatched shit. Same couch and everything just different fabric. Juice put his foot down and wouldn't let me do leather, he knew you wouldn't like it." Gemma gave her little girl a smile. "He's not an idiot when it comes to you."

Milla smiled at her mother. She'd just gotten as much of a blessing as she ever would out of the woman and was just going to accept it. She kept smiling and turned back to her book, content to leave everything as it was and not rock the boat. She'd just opened it when she realized she hadn't gotten all of the information.

"Wait, what color is the set now?" She asked praying that it wasn't white, Juice had wanted a white couch but she'd shot him down any time he brought it up. She could just imagine her mother going along with the whimsy to spite her.

"You'll just have to wait." Gemma grinned evilly and picked up her cigarette while Milla's face morphed into a disturbed mask. If her mother was smiling it couldn't be good.

Gemma just continued to grin and brought up the timecard spreadsheet Juice had created. She liked seeing her daughter twisting in the wind. It served her right for leaving the nest. Gemma may have come to terms with her baby bird flying away but that didn't mean she liked it.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Milla asked her Dad and he chuckled but kept his hands on her shoulders as he guided her into the workshop. He'd been up since 5:30 finishing the chair so it could be settled before they moved it. He knew it was perfect for his baby; he just needed her to see it and confirm his assertion.

"Now." Clay held her in front of the chair and Milla gasped when she opened her eyes.

The chair was perfect. The arms he'd shown her a week ago had been perfected with a swirl design carved into their ends and red and black striped fabric padding their length. The seat and back looked comfortable stuffed with the same fabric and the dark wood shined with a fresh coat of polish. Milla was speechless as she slowly walked to the chair and ran her hands over the fabric, surprised to find it soft and smooth but still sturdy. She smiled as she saw that her father had taken the swirl design from the arms and carved it around the back of the chair and he'd given the legs claw-like feet. It should have looked gothic or tacky but instead it looked classy and refined. A testament to her father's skill and understanding of his daughter. She pressed her hand to the seat and looked back at her dad who nodded. She felt tears in her eyes as she sat down. It was far more comfortable than it looked and Milla knew she'd found her perfect reading chair. She looked at her father who stood watching her, pleased by her reaction.

"Thank you Daddy." She whispered as she got out of the chair and walked to her father. She had no words for how much she appreciated this and Clay understood. He simply held her in his arms before he nudged her away and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Come on, let's go have lunch, I think your Ma made some Reuben's." Milla nodded and discreetly wiped the tears from her face. She was so happy and Clay was proud to be part of it. He put an arm across her shoulders and led her out of the room toward the house, where her mom and man were waiting. If she thought she loved the chair she was going to keel over when she saw the matching living room set. Clay grinned at the thought. He may have had his problems with the retard from time to time but there was no denying that no one knew Milla as well as he did.