"I know it's here somewhere," Selene called down the hall to John who was currently sprawled on the couch wondering just why it was so important for her to find an old 3D jigsaw of the empire state building, not to mention why she would have one in the first place. "I'm gonna check the other room."
"OK," he called back, sighing to himself. And people said that he was the super focused one, people said he bordered on obsessive at times. Ha! They had yet to meet Selene when she suddenly got it into her head that she needed to find something right then, right there.
He'd seen her in this mood a number of times, ranging from scouring the internet for three hours to find a particular shade of eyeshadow that she just had to have, to searching an entire store room in One's hangar because Scott was sure he'd taken her tape measure in there, John refused to even ask why the tape measure was borrowed in the first place. There were some things that a brother just didn't want or need to know.
He could hear her rummaging around in the other room and just knew that it could take forever, she wouldn't give up until she had found it. She'd said it was because it bugged her too much to allow her to settle. Knowing it was there but not being able to find it made her question both her memory and her sanity and she wasn't prepared to do that more than necessary.
He glanced over at the holoscreen where a movie was paused (and had been for the last fifteen minutes), they were never going to finish it in a timely fashion if she didn't find it soon. And, while he was comfortable enough where he was, he had been more comfy when she had been beside him and his head had been pillowed just right on her perfect chest. Now he was resigned to the fact that he would have to get up as the gentlemanly thing to do would be to help her look.
Where else might she have put it? It wasn't that large an apartment, just the two bedrooms, one being theirs and the other her office-cum-witchcraft-cum-guest room, the bathroom, the lounge he was currently in and the kitchen. He racked his brains, trying to mentally picture what the thing she was searching for might potentially look like. Would it be in a box? Already made up and dumped somewhere? Chucked loose in a bag? It was Selene, it could be on the roof for all he knew.
He knew almost every inch of the place, having roamed around enough while she was sleeping and he was sure he'd never seen anything that might possibly be the desired item. It definitely wasn't in the kitchen, that much he knew, she did have some kind of logic when it came to storing things, which also ruled out the bathroom. He'd just watched her rifle through the cupboards under the projector stand, the antique sideboard and down the back of the couch, so that left only one potential place. One that he had yet to ever look in at all.
He heaved himself vertical and stretched, feeling his back let out a little pop of protest. He rolled his shoulders and twisted at the waist but it did little good.. He'd have to ask her for a back massage later, hardship that it was, since it inevitably led to some kind of physical reward for her too. He grinned to himself, pleased with that idea and headed into the hall.
"Found it yet?" he called out in the vague hope that his assistance wouldn't be required.
"Yes, I found it five minutes ago but thought I'd keep looking because I'm having such a great time."
"Sarcastic little witch," he grumbled under his breath as he reached for the handles.
"I'll check the hall cupboard for you," he called back, raising his voice so she could hear him.
"What? No! Don't do th-"
He opened one door and his world went dark for a second as the weight of what felt like ten tons of crap cascaded out to swallow him whole.
"Oh my gods! Babe, you OK?" The sound of running feet floated to his ears from inside his rubbish cocoon.
"Shit! John!" Selene stopped dead at the sight of her, rather dramatic, husband lying sprawled out on the hall floor, half the contents of her junk cupboard piled on top of him. "I said no for a reason!" she scolded as she began to shove things aside without a care as to where they landed, to unearth him. "Babe, speak to me, are you alright?"
John groaned pathetically when she brushed the hair back from his face. "What the hell just happened?"
"You opened the cupboard of doom."
"We have a cupboard of doom?" He struggled to sit up, causing another near avalanche as items rolled off his person.
"Doesn't everyone?"
"No! That is the sort of thing you need to warn a man about!" he exploded. "A simple, 'don't open that cupboard without a hard hat, it's a danger zone that even Scott wouldn't run into' would be enough. Is that so hard to bring up in conversation?"
"I didn't know I needed to," she argued as she picked up a cheese grater and tried to stuff it back into the depths with little success.
"Oh yeah, that made all the difference," he deadpanned, looking down at his still covered legs. "Where the hell did you get all this stuff and why is it in there?" He flicked a recorder with his index finger. "You don't even play the recorder."
"I might one day," she huffed defensively.
"No, you won't, you have no musical skills whatsoever."
"I could make you sing a high note if I grabbed you by the balls," she warned him, shoving a couple of bags off his legs and offering him a hand.
He grabbed her hand, letting her haul him to his feet and brushed himself down. "Seriously, why do you have all this?"
"People gave it to me," she shrugged.
"And why would people just give you a bunch of random junk?" Honestly, sometimes talking to her was like listening to a language he didn't understand, and for him that was saying something. "No one just hands people their unwanted rubbish without a good reason." Actually, scratch that, with his wife anything was possible, nothing was normal. Ever.
"In payment," she answered, bending down to scoop up the contents of a bag of marbles that had scattered as it hit the deck. Who even had marble these days?
"I think you lost a few," he nodded at the bag, receiving a scowl in return.
She threw the bag back onto a shelf and two candlesticks rolled out.
"Dare I ask what you did to receive this lot in payment?"
"Did you have to make that sound so dodgy?"
He shrugged.
"I'm a witch."
"I'm aware," his arms crossed and he lifted one eyebrow in question.
"We don't always deal in money, we tend to accept barter and trade. I do a job or a reading or something and they give me what they can afford or what they think my skills are worth in trade."
The other eyebrow rose to join its twin as his eyes swept the mess still covering the majority of the hallway. "So this is what, your wages?"
"Essentially, yes. But only for non standard jobs. You know that most clients pay me with real money if we meet in person in my room at Madeleine's shop or for online readings, but sometimes it's a bit more involved than simple monetary payments."
"Is that a Jenny Sinclair cardinal?" he asked, pointing to a picture frame propped up against the side wall of the cupboard.
"The painting of the bird? No idea, I took it in trade for a house cleansing I did about four years ago."
"And that little cube there?" he gestured to a small, metal cube suspended invisibly above a small stand that he recognised as being a Gary Sim design.
"Oh, I got that for that past life regression session I did last year, the one Scott dropped me off at in Singapore...why are you staring at me like that?"
He didn't answer at first, just continued to dig around in the cupboard. He pulled out a dusty paperback, checked the inside cover then waved it under her nose.
"This is a first edition Gemma Noble."
"That book about the boat?"
"The international bestseller of 2022 that only had a first print run of two hundred copies."
"The one about the boat?"
"Yes, the one about the boat! The boat that sunk, killing the entire royal family of Koppela, leading to a revolution when the title passed down to the illegitimate son of the king's dead sister."
"I remembered the boat part, I didn't read past the first three pages."
"The movie adaptation became the highest grossing romance of the decade."
"Never watched it."
"They held a fan convention!"
"Did you go?"
"No!"
"Then why do I care if there aren't any pictures of you in royal cosplay?"
He ignored that in favour of dragging out an old fashioned radio. "Is this a bakelite-"
"Let's just say that you're right and that it is, because I have no clue. And let's just assume that I have absolutely no clue what that is either," she said, nodding at the 'Jetsons' thermos flask in his hand. "If it's in the cupboard I had no use for it and put it there because that's my Justin cupboard."
"Justin? Who the hell is Justin?" His head was spinning. He half expected a dirty, rumpled, bearded man to come crawling out and introduce himself. He actually bent down to peer inside on the off-chance that it actually led to Narnia.
"Just-in-case. You never know when you might need something. Basically if I think someone might like it, if I need a gift in a hurry or whatever, then I pick something out of there. Other things I give to people straight away, like that keyring pet that I gave Alan last year."
"The Tamagochi. The never taken out of its packaging, first generation digital pet from 1997? The one that he refused to open because it was worth so much money?"
"If that's that cute little egg thing then yes."
"Yes," he sighed. "The egg thing." He sifted through a box of assorted things that had no relevance to each other. "This is a mess, this entire box, hell, the entire cupboard, is disorganised chaos."
"I'm a chaotic person, I thrive on that shit."
"I know, and usually I love you for it, but this is-" he paused, an unwelcome, and slightly horrifying, thought forming in his mind. "You have kept a record of all of these haven't you?"
"A record?"
"You know, your taxes, expenditure, incoming and outgoings? These technically count as earnings and you should have been keeping some kind of record."
Selene looked at him blankly, the expression on her face did not instill him with confidence.
"You haven't got a file with all the things you've been given and what you've done with them?"
She shook her head.
"Not even an old notebook somewhere with scribbled notes?" he was reaching now, he was desperate. "Not even a list somewhere on the back of a cereal box?"
She shook her head again.
"How am I married to you?"
"Dumb luck?"
"You do at least have records of all your monetary incomings and outgoings, right?"
"Do bank statements count?"
"Partially. What about your investments? Stocks and shares?"
"Don't have any."
"Nothing at all? No pension plan?"
"Witches don't retire or even stop working, we just get grumpier and more naked."
She really should shut up soon, because her darling husband looked like he was about to cry.
John took a deep breath, obviously mentally and physically pulling himself together.
"That's it, we're sorting this out, I can't live like this, I'll never sleep knowing that this mess is just down the hall. It's not possible."
"Tad dramatic, babe."
"No!" he snapped, pointy finger of death waving in her face. "Don't you dare try to downplay this level of disorganisation. I'm a fair man, a simple man, but I cannot and will not allow my wife to continue to throw herself into a pit of ignorance of her own making with regards to her finances."
Selene shrugged. "What can I say, I just never really thought about it. I've got enough to live on, I'm comfortable and haven't had to worry about the bills for a few years, that's all I needed really."
"You have to worry, you have to pay attention to it!"
"Why?"
"Because…" she was watching him, waiting for some great wisdom, she was counting on him. "Because you can't, that's why," he finished lamely.
"That cleared it up for me, thank you."
The glare he gave her could have stripped paint.
"What are the chances of convincing you to forget about all this for a while and come back to the couch with me?"
"Slim to none."
"I'll make it worth your while."
"You're going to properly organise this cupboard?"
Selene snorted. "Ha! Nope. I was thinking more along the lines of taking my bra off."
"Then you leave me no choice. I can see no other option."
"We're never going to finish watching the movie, are we?"
"I didn't think I'd ever have to do this, I don't WANT to do this, " John continued to mutter as he shoved at a sword that fell out of the cupboard, narrowly missing his foot.
"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously as he started tapping on his phone, his expression grim.
"I'm going to call in an expert."
"Here I come to save the day!" Gordon yodelled as he slammed open the apartment door, sliding dramatically into the middle of the lounge. He skidded to a halt and lifted his arms to strike a heroic pose.
"Now that's an entrance!" Selene cheered, clapping her hands in appreciation.
Gordon bowed low and straightened to face John, a cheeky grin on his face.
"You called, dear brother? How may I be of assistance?"
"We find ourselves in need of your expertise," John admitted reluctantly.
"Me? I have expertise?" Gordon choked, unable to believe his ears. "That's a first."
"I know, I'm as shocked as you are," Selene shrugged. "I thought he'd die upon his hill of never asking you for help again after the helium mix incident and yet, here we are."
"We said we wouldn't talk about that again," John huffed. "I'm already regretting so many decisions in my life right now."
Selene glared at him but wisely kept her mouth shut, it wouldn't do to rile the beast. John very rarely got in this kind of mood but when he did it was best to duck and cover.
"So, what did you need me for?"
"This," John said, getting up from the couch, leading the way down the hall.
"Bro, if you have something you need my help with in the bedroom I feel I must decline."
John treated that comment with the contempt it deserved by ignoring it completely. Coming to a halt in front of the cupboard, he grasped the handles and took a steadying breath. With a sharp yank he whipped it open, stepping expertly behind the door for protection as half the cupboard's contents rained down onto the floor.
"What are yo...shitting hell!" Gordon yelped, diving out of the way just in time before he was swept along in the tidal wave of items.
"I'm not picking that all up again!" Selene yelled at them, escaping to the sanctity of the kitchen to make coffee.
"What the hell is all this stuff?" Gordon asked, his tone filled with awe.
"Apparently it's the things that people give her in lieu of payment that she has no idea what to do with."
"There's a lot in there," Gordon said, stating the obvious, his eyes darting here and there as he tried to take in the sheer size of the crap mountain that had just spilled forth like an avalanche.
"I know," John sighed, half-heartedly nudging a bag aside with his foot, slightly disturbed to hear it clunk. What the everloving hell did she have in there?
Gordon bent down to sift through a smaller pile that had managed to separate itself from the rest, unearthing a rubix club and a couple of fidget spinners.
"This is so cool!"
"Excuse me? What?"
"This is like a treasure trove! Oh my God I've wanted one of these forever," he shook the cube in John's face and then dived back into the pile, making a grab at something he'd spotted, unearthing it. "This is a black light Dr Strange Funko Pop! These things are hella rare and worth a fortune."
"Why is it's head so big?"
Gordon stared at John like he'd just asked why the earth looked round from his bedroom window.
"You don't even realise what you have here, do you?"
"I know that she's got a painting that's worth far too much to have it stuffed in a cupboard and ignored, along with a first edition or two."
"Screw that boring stuff, she's got an unopened Animal Crossing game cartridge in there, it's like ten christmasses have come at once! This is amazing."
"And that, dear brother, is why I called you," John grinned, patting Gordon on the shoulder. "You two are going to sort this out while I attempt to make some kind of sense out of her bookkeeping, of which I believe there is none."
"So, in other words you're starting her an investment portfolio like you did for my twelfth birthday and taking over the balancing of her checking accounts?"
"Pretty much," John shrugged.
"While I have to wade through a pile of junk and attempt to put it into some kind of order?"
"Essentially, yes. Oh, and try to get her to help you, she needs to take some kind of responsibility for her finances even if it is by sorting things into keep, sell or donate piles."
Gordon paused, caught between the brotherly urge to be a pain in the ass and refuse to help and his own desire to sift through the Aladdin's cupboard of undiscovered treasures that lay before him, spread out across the hall floor like an offering to the gods.
Eventually his desire to dumpster dive won out.
"You got it," he followed his promise up with a salute that he felt made him seem very trustworthy and capable. "You just leave it all to me, bro. You go call down your little tin can."
"What the hell?"John yelled, coming into the lounge. "It's worse than when you started!"
Selene and Gordon looked up from the pile they were sifting through and glanced around the room. Three huge wicker baskets took up half the sofa, onto which Gordon had stuck helpful signs of 'keep', 'donate' and 'sell' but, they had to admit, there was very little in them.
Gordon had suggested they drag out everything and spread it out in order to see exactly what they had and to make it easier to put things back in the cupboard when the time came. Unfortunately he'd slightly underestimated the amount of stuff that Selene had managed to cram in there through sheer determination and possibly a little magic. The result was a lounge floor that couldn't even be seen and Selene and Gordon sitting amongst the sea of stuff like two little islands. How John wished they had been left undiscovered.
"It's been three hours!" They both stared at him blankly, Gordon with a recently discovered Baby Yoda sitting in his lap and Selene holding what appeared to be some kind of metal torture device that might possibly be a corkscrew, which was now looking rather appealing as he debated using it to gouge his eyes out.
He waved a handful of papers in their general direction. "I thought you'd be somewhere near done by now. I need some input with all of this!" he shook the papers for emphasis. "Did you know that you have seven bank accounts? SEVEN!"
"I kept forgetting them and-"
"No! There is no and! There is no such thing as an and when it comes to SEVEN FUCKING BANK ACCOUNTS!"
"One promised me the best interest rates in the galaxy and another promised me a toaster," she protested. "Wait, I think I've got that around here somewhere…"
The noise John made was somewhat reminiscent of a pissed off Pterodactyl, all frustration and the desire to murder.
Selene scrambled to her feet, treading on a dog toy that let out a protesting wheeze, and mountaineered over a bag of golf clubs to reach his side.
"Babe, you good?" she cupped his face, turning it so she could look in his eyes. He stared blankly back at her. "Calm down, sweetie, it's not as bad as it looks."
"Not as bad?" he snapped in complete disbelief. "Not as bad? You're right, it's not as bad as it looks, it's worse, because I just spotted some more down the side of the couch!"
"That's the stuff Gordon wants," she explained patiently. "Look, why don't I pop out and get us something nice for dinner, like chinese food, you like that, that'll be good, right? Then we can have a break and finish up after."
He had no choice but to nod, although she swore she heard him muttering under his breath about which bank account she'd be using to pay for it, as she dragged her coat on.
John sank down on the arm of the couch, the one clear spot in the room, with a defeated sigh.
"It's really not as bad as it looks," Gordon assured him. "She's got some awesome pieces that I'm taking pictures of to put online as we organise them, she's got another box full of stuff to donate as well as that basket, the box is in the kitchen by the way. And some of the keep stuff is already in the cupboard, that's things she's earmarked for birthdays and potential gifts or things that might actually have a use."
John grunted a sound that might have been approval or might have been his will to live escaping.
"One thing is bugging me though," Gordon continued, setting the Baby Yoda aside gently and picking up an old Nintendo Switch to photograph.
"And that is?" John tentatively reached into one of the small mounds on the couch beside him and extracted a lace scarf made of some kind of delicate silk that he just knew his Grandmother would love. He rubbed the soft material between his fingers, drawn by the intricate patterns that someone had obviously worked by hand.
"How did you not know about any of this? You know everything, you snoop everywhere, you just have to be involved."
"I'm insulted. I do not snoop."
"Yes, you do."
"Only when I have to," John admitted with an indignant sniff.
"So…?"
John shrugged. "I hadn't had a need to open the cupboard, I thought it was just a cleaning closet. As for the bank accounts, we just never talk about money. At first it seemed rude-"
Gordon snorted, interrupting him. "When has asking what might be a rude question ever stopped you?"
John scowled at him but answered anyway. "Maybe since we have more than enough money and Dad was constantly drumming it into us that we should watch out for gold diggers and people who would only show an interest in us for financial gain?"
"But that's our money, not hers."
"Well, she never asked about ours, which was refreshing really. Even Scott could tell she didn't just see me as a walking wallet, which was apparently very surprising. I'm still not sure if I should be insulted by that, he was either insinuating that no one would be interested in me or that I couldn't be trusted to pick a woman on my own."
"Or he was speaking from experience."
"Maybe that too," John allowed. "But it just never came up, it was never an issue. She never tapped me up for money, I never needed to ask her about it, I bought this place without asking her-"
"She's still pissed about that, by the way."
"Not important right now," John continued smoothly, waving it aside. "The point is that it's never been a subject we've talked about, her finances are her own."
"So you're getting involved now, why?"
"Because she obviously can't be trusted to take care of herself, it's a husband's job to look after his wife and she apparently needs babysitting more than Alan."
"It can't be that bad," Gordon scoffed, refusing to look at the piles of things that remained.
"EOS found those bank accounts, though apparently she only uses three of them with any regularity, one dates back to when she was seventeen and only has twelve pounds in it. She also appears to have nothing in the way of incoming and outgoing logs, although I traced back through her emails and found what might be considered receipts if I squint hard enough. One was just a witches hat emoji, a smiley face, a dollar sign and a thumbs up."
Gordon burst out laughing, mostly from the look of utter despair and the completely done-with-your-shit tone that his brother had.
"Did you really expect anything else?" he asked when he finally calmed down.
John opened his mouth to argue but slowly shut it again. Honestly, he shouldn't have been in any way surprised. His wife was nothing if not unique and he had been well aware of her chaotic nature when he married her, he could hardly expect her to change now.
"Didn't think so," Gordon grinned. "She's just being her, and you know you wouldn't have her any other way."
"I know," John admitted with a sigh. "It's just frustrating and rather anxiety inducing to see all this," he swept a hand out, gesturing to the room at large.
"I get that," Gordon nodded. "You say that about me all the time."
"I could live without you though."
"Oh! I'm insulted! That actually hurt!" Gordon picked up the Baby Yoda and lobbed it at his grinning brother's head.
"I'm back!" Selene called as she bounced through the door, bringing with her the enticing scent of food and the clanking of beer bottles.
"Yes, thank you! I'm starving." Gordon scrambled to his feet to relieve her of the bottles while John went to fetch plates.
"There's four boxes in the kitchen!" John yelled at Gordon when he tripped over one. "You said there was one, you lied!"
"No, I said there was a box of things to donate, the rest aren't donations so they didn't count," Gordon argued, unearthing the corkscrew Selene had found and using the attached bottle opener to pop a beer open.
"So where are the rest going?" John demanded to know.
"Let's not focus on that for now," Selene soothed, "the food's getting cold."
The beer and food went a long way towards calming John's mood and easing the way towards getting the rest of the job done in a somewhat timely manner, that is to say three am rather than the next afternoon.
John was more ruthless than Gordon and Selene were. Selene saw the things as full of possibilities, Gordon saw it as full of cool stuff they could make some money on, John saw it as a complete mess that he wanted out of his nicely ordered life ASAP.
"What about this?" John held up an unidentified object that looked like it might have been a lemon squeezer but Selene had threatened to use as a ball breaker.
"I don't know, it might be usefu-"
"When did you last squeeze a lemon?"
"Erm…"
"You don't because we have that juicer that has the squeezer inbuilt. Gordon, is there a market for these?"
"I've not seen any-"
"It's gone," John said decisively, tossing it into another box, this one marked for shipping to a vintage store to sell for them.
"You're mean and bossy when you're cleaning," Selene pouted.
"You like when I'm bossy," he pointed out, holding up a half burnt christmas candle, not waiting for an answer before he tossed it in the recycling box.
"There is a time and a place for your dominating side and this is not it."
"Thank God," Gordon shuddered, taking another picture and putting the item in the selling box.
"We will get this done," John told her firmly, raising an eyebrow in warning when she looked like she might dare try to argue. Gordon wisely kept his mouth shut and continued his scavenging. "We are getting this done and then, tomorrow, you and I are going to sit down and sort out your finances once and for all."
"Urgh, do we have to?"
"Yes! It needs to be done. We're married now, that means we need to know what we have in the way of resources and it needs to be properly recorded, I mean, have you ever even paid tax?"
"Yes," she drawled in a tone that sounded more like a stroppy teenager that had been asked if she'd really done her homework, all 'of course I have, what do you take me for?'.
"How much? What band? Quarterly, or yearly?"
"I don't know!" she wailed, tossing a balled up T-shirt that was apparently designer, into the sell box like it was basketball. "I just pay what they tell me to, I think it's a standard rate or something, and like, doesn't everything I buy have tax on it already? Surely that's enough tax? Am I expected to pay tax on everything? Is that how the world works?"
"Yes!"
"Well it sucks," she sniffed. "I get taxed to earn, I get taxed to spend, this, this is why witches barter and trade! No bastard gouvernements will take my candle sticks!"
Gordon looked from John to Selene then back again, smothering his laughter behind the picture he was holding.
"I mean, I'm supposed to do the work, collect the cash, don't pass go, hand over my taxes and keep a record of it? Crazy I tell you. Crazy. Like, don't they have an app for that?"
"I love you-"
"I sense a but coming."
"But you drive me crazy."
"Welcome to the club, mate. So, just out of curiosity, do they have an app for that? Because I could totally use one."
"Yes, they do. But I'll make you one that's more suited to your needs."
"By suited I hope you mean more simple and able to do it in two seconds flat, because that's about all I'm prepared to promise," she warned him.
John thought about it for a second, then nodded. "I'll take it."
"I'm keeping this," Gordon announced, holding up the painting that depicted a woman jumping a horse over a hedge.
"Erm…OK," Selene agreed easily, glancing at John who shrugged in answer. He didn't have a clue either.
"Not that I mind you having it, obviously," Selene pushed, "but can I ask why? It doesn't really seem like your type of thing."
"It reminds me of an old friend, that's all," Gordon grinned, putting it aside carefully into his keep box.
By the time they had finished their third pot of coffee they had cleared the room of its assorted oddities and curiosities that were scattered around, sorting it into boxes that consisted of sell online, ship to a shop, donate, keep, keep for gifts and claimed by Gordon. The items in the keep and keep for gifts had been neatly arranged in the cupboard by John who was now a lot calmer after instilling some order into the chaos that had become his Sunday.
Gordon had scavenged everything he wanted and proudly labelled his box and was now snoring in the spare room, having definitely earned the rest and Selene was yawning her face inside out.
"Please can we go to bed," she whined as John opened and closed the cupboard door once more, testing yet again that he could open it without endangering life and limb.
"Yes," he finally agreed, holding out his hand.
"Thank you," she sighed in relief, dropping her hand into his. She used her grip on his hand to tug him closer, tipping her head back, pursing her lips in offering.
"Is this you trying to butter me up?" John asked, sliding his arms around her waist.
"Maybe," she admitted. "Is it working?"
"Maybe," he conceded, dipping his head to capture her lips in a soft kiss.
"So, am I forgiven now?"
"Possibly," he allowed, kissing her again. "I'll let you know after I get some sleep."
"I'll take it," she agreed, grinning sweetly. "I love you."
"I love you too, but you're not getting out of doing your accounts tomorrow."
"Dammit!"