This is a sequel to "Arguing" W/S. Some of this won't make much sense if you haven't read the other one.

Usual disclaimer applies.

I love Warrick. It's about the only constant in my life right now. That I love him. Good job really, because otherwise I think I would have to kill him. We've been house hunting all day. I'm hot, I'm tired, and I think I've got a blister from my new sneakers. This is about the millionth place we've looked at, and once again, Warrick has found something to fault it on. Looks all right to me. It's two story, two bedroom, lounge, kitchen, diner. It's even got this small spare room we could turn into a study. I mean, it's even got a freaking garden. But oh no, it's not good enough for Warrick. Whoever said I was fussy never met Warrick. Or went house hunting with him.

The problem with this house, something to do with the security. Now I like my security. I see enough dead people to appreciate what a good bolt lock and a house alarm can do. But there gets a point that everyone has to accept that you can't live in Fort Knox. I've already tried to tell him we can fit an alarm. But apparently I wasn't getting the bigger picture. It's near a main road. There's no fence around the front yard. The front door's flimsy. And the master bedroom has a balcony. I like the balcony. I was having visions of long summer evenings spent sitting out in it. But my romantically challenged other half was thinking more along the lines of burglars using it.

I swear, if he doesn't get a move on and just decide on a place I'm going back to my apartment and staying there. Why it has to be a big deal, I don't know. I thought the big step would be agreeing to live together. But it's been a week since that night when I thought I was going to have a heart attack or worse a panic attack in front of him. And we still haven't decided on a place to live.

I start walking backwards, inch by inch, trying to get to the front door. Warrick is engrossed in a conversation about crime stats with the realtor, and I'm hoping if I move stealthily enough, I can make it out without either noticing I'm gone. Not like I've had much impact so far. I've liked all of them well enough. I mean, they're just houses. Or in one case an apartment. They've all got walls and doors and ceilings. And yes, some did have some visually entertaining problems with them, but if there's one thing I can do it's wield a paintbrush with the best of them. Even if I can just get to the front door and open it, it would be a start. Just to let some air in.

According to Warrick it has to be perfect. It has to have…something. When I asked him to quantify the something he got huffy and refused to answer. It was a perfectly innocent question, I thought.

I don't get it! I don't get what the something is. A place is just a place is just a place. At the end of the day what difference does it make as long as we've got a place to go to, to call our own? He said I was being difficult. Well this is difficult! The whole engagement slash living together thing that had seemed like such a good thing a week ago was slowly wearing me down. I want to be with him. I don't want this hassle though. A flash of light catches my eye as I reach over for the doorhandle. I'll give him his dues. Considering he hadn't planned on asking me to marry him, he certainly produced the most beautiful ring within twenty-four hours. It's a small, understated diamond set in white gold. It's absolutely gorgeous. Why can't finding somewhere to live be as easy?

I really need to sit down. We came straight out after work, and I haven't slept in like forever. It's way too hot and stuffy in this place. And I'm starting to get black spots dancing across my vision which is not usually a good sign. Well, at least if I faint, I'll have an excuse to go home.

Warrick decides to look up at me then, and I feel guilty, standing there with the door open about to escape this nightmare. All I wanted was some air. But he surprises me because he doesn't look angry. He's got this thoughtful look on his face. He says something to the realtor, who nods, and then he strides over to me. 'You don't like this place, either, admit it.' He says. I'm just grateful for the fact that we are finally outside where at least there's a slight breeze blowing. 'Are you ok? You look a little pale.' He adds. Now he gets concerned.

'Fine. Just a little stuffy in there.'

'No kidding.'

For a moment we walk in silence, until we reach the car and are safely installed inside, air con on max. Instead of starting to drive, though, Warrick turns to me, regarding me with this serious look on his face. Uh oh. I think I'm in trouble. 'I know we've looked at a lot of places. And that some of them were ok. That we could have lived there.'

I go to say something but he doesn't let me, forging on, taking hold of my hand and twisting the ring slightly between finger and thumb. He's looking at it, now, rather than at me. 'I just want somewhere perfect, somewhere that's us. I don't just want a house, I want a home.' He says, finally looking back up at me, studying my reaction.

For a moment I don't say anything, as I reach up to cup his chin. 'It's not about the house. Wherever we live we can make home. It doesn't have to be perfect. As long as we're together, what does it matter whether the security is right, or if the second bedroom's a bit small.'

Now he goes to say something, but I carry on. I don't find this kind of talk easy. Romantic, couple talk. Being open and honest is going against my nature. But with him, everything that I used to be scared of doesn't seem valid anymore. I know he won't laugh at me, or shout at me for having an opinion. I know he'll always listen. And even if we don't agree the majority of the time, at least we've got an honest relationship. The arguing just keeps it healthy. (That's one way to justify them, anyway)

'I've moved around a lot. In the last six years I've stayed in at least three different flats. Even when I was a kid, the B and B never seemed like home, was never ours; there was always strangers around, or people barging in on us. This place doesn't have to be everything. It can't be. It's not the place that makes it a home, it's what we do with it. We make it home. That's what I think, anyway.' I finish, beginning to feel a blush creep up.

Warrick seems stunned for a moment. It's just starting to annoy me when he turns sharply, firing up the engine. 'You're right.' He murmurs, taking one of my hands and kissing it. 'You're absolutely right.'

I look at him for a second, feeling doubtful. 'I am?'

'I've been focusing too much on the wheres and the hows. I forgot about the why.'

'Okay.' I say slowly, jolted back in my seat slightly as he pulls out into traffic. He drives like he normally does, like a boyracer, but for once I don't demand him to stop and let me drive, because I'm too curious as to where we're going. We're heading in the direction of Warrick's old neighbourhood, towards his Gran's place. The most scary lady I've ever met, or so I thought the first time we met. I've never seen Warrick behave like he does in front of her. He has a respect and a deep love for that woman. And I can see why. They have this easy co-existence when they're together. It's so relaxed, and calm and loving when we're round there. I love going there. Just not when we're in the middle of trying to find a place to live, and I'm also dying to go to bed.

'Warrick, where are we going?' I finally asked, unable to keep patient any longer.

'You'll see.' He answers mysteriously, turning to flash a boyishly excited grin at me. I suddenly get a bad feeling in my stomach. It's like he's lost a few years and a few brain cells. I start to worry what plan he has up his sleeve.

He finally pulls to an abrupt stop at the end of a long street. The houses are all detached, the neighbourhood quiet in the morning daytime. Some of the front yards are a little overgrown. Some of the paint work needs to be done. But each house has it's own quiet existence, it's own identity. They're each a little different from the others. Some have porches. Some are single story. They're every colour of the rainbow. Some have carports, some garages. Warrick jumps out and I reluctantly follow, still unsure what's going on.

He grabs my hand and pulls me up the driveway of a two story redbrick house with white trim. The yard looks like it hasn't been tended in a while. The stairs leading up to the front door, stoop a little as we walk up them. But even as we walk I get this uncharacteristic excited flutter in the pit of my stomach. The house is empty, that much is obvious. The screens broken, hanging off one hinge, and out of nowhere it seems, Warrick produces a key for the door. Before I can ask he's got the door open, and we step into the cool silence.

And suddenly I understand what that something is. I can't put a name on it. I can't describe it even really. All I know is stepping into the front room, the house felt right. I knew we had found our home.

Warrick turned to me, a slight frown on his face. 'I know it's not much.'

I interrupt before he can carry on. 'I get it now.' I tell him, walking further into the house. It's a mess. The walls are falling down in places. The floors been uprooted and not laid properly. The windows are so filthy that even the strong sunlight can't seem to get through much. But I could see it. I could picture it. It's a bit like finally understanding how a crime went down. When finally you can just picture it in your mind exactly what happened. Standing there, looking at the room, I could see us, I could see Warrick and me there. The room had it's own zen like quality. It was so calm, so placid. So peaceful. It felt like it was patiently waiting for the next family to fill it, for noise and laughter and action to fill it's rooms once again. In the last few years I've always rented furnished apartments but the prospect of going furniture shopping, or finding decorations to match the house filled me with sudden energy.

I turn to him, to find him watching me, a weird little smile on his face. 'This is it.' He said.

'This is it.' I echo with what I know is a broad grin on my face.

'I've had the key for two days, but it was such a mess I didn't think…' He trailed off, looking all around and I knew he could see it to. 'It's gonna be a lot of work.' He said.

'It'll be fun. Can we afford it?'

'Yes.'

I closed my eyes, seeing the room, decorated, plain simple designs, sparse furniture. A fire place. Photos. Loads of photos. I feel his hands on my waist, but I don't bother opening my eyes, just lean towards him, accepting the kiss.

'Welcome home.' He whispers, as he drags me off to show me the rest of the house. Or namely how big the master bedroom is. 'Can't you just picture our children here?' He adds as we stand in the doorway.

I turn to give him an abrupt stare.

'Wow, look at the back yard.' He says quickly, striding over to the grubby window.

Children. Yikes. Who said anything about children? Ever.

Warrick looks at me from the window, decides to stride back towards me, taking me by the hand. 'We've got a lifetime together.' He reminds me.

Yeah. But no one mentioned children anywhere in that future.

The only response I got from Warrick was a laugh when I said that.

'I got you to agree to marry me.' He whispered in my ear. And as he kisses me long and deep and full of promises my mind blanks the issue. I don't care what happens in the future as long as it involves more of this.

TBC?