Home Is Where The Hearth Is

1

Sam stepped through the doorway and set the overflowing cardboard box in her arms on the floor. Looking around, she breathed in the bright, open scent of fresh paint and carpet. The place didn't have any furniture yet, so all the energy, every sound, pinged off the walls and came back to her in faded little echoes, making her skin tingle. It was... clean. Faint whispers of handymen stuck in the air, but they were fading. This was their place now. Damian rest his hand on her shoulder and tucked her into his side.

"Well...what do you think?"

He beamed down at her. Still looking around, she just smiled and nodded, reaching up and squeezing his hand.

The three others hustled in behind them, all toting their own boxes, and immediately filled the resounding space with astonished cries of delight - this was really their home, all theirs. Well...not a home yet, but they'd make it so in a hurry. After they trotted past and into their respective rooms, Sam bent and retrieved the heavy, lidded pot from her own box and carried it and her canvas bag of groceries into the kitchen. It was still bare too, but she had brought everything she'd need. Damian smiled as he watched her sweep her curtain of fiery red hair up into a ponytail - she was about to work her magic. Beginning to methodically empty her bag and line the tools of her trade along the brand new countertop, she smiled back warmly.

"You know, you left your car open - better go bring in your things before they run away," she teased with a wink. Damian chuckled and let her alone.

Everything laid neatly in its place, she set the pot on the front burner and drizzled in some oil to heat while she went to blotting the meat; methodically, assuredly, she rolled the cubed beef between two thick layers of paper towels, like a jelly roll. Oil shimmering and paper towels pink-tinged and spotted, Sam unrolled the bundle and tossed the first batch in to brown.

The house buzzes with movers, parents, and shrill, shrieking children. She doesn't know where they are. Why do those men have her bed? When could they go home? It's loud here. She holds her stuffed bear closer and starts to wail, holding onto her father's leg.
"Hey hey hey," he croons, and picks her up. "It's alright wee one. They'll be gone soon."
He totes her on his hip, still crying pitifully, to the kitchen, where so far they've not intruded. Perching her on the countertop, he holds her pudgy little hands and bounces from side to side until her screams diminish to sniffles, then bends and produces a box of animal crackers from her little backpack. Immediately her attention zeroes down onto the little red box.
"Y'know where home is?"
She just sniffs and hugs her bear, big, welled eyes flicking from the box to his face and back. He rattles the box, and tickles her round stomach.
"Right here. Yeah?"
She reaches for the box and he opens it for her. Beginning to smile, she picks out a zebra, and promptly bites its head off. With something in her tiny tummy, it's not so scary anymore.
"Atta' girl."
He tousles her hair and winks, then brings her down from the counter and rejoins the chaos.

All five pounds of beef browned and her forearms spattered with tiny grease burns, Sam tossed in the garlic cloves and onions she had chopped, ripped open and dumped in the whole bag of baby carrots, and folded it over with a wooden spoon, searing it all together.

"Ugh, you are so lucky I love you guys!" she called out to them, the grease popping again and catching her wrist. She flinched and hissed through her teeth, but she was used to cooking scars and just kept trucking, telling herself she'd smear some aloe on it later. As the onions slowly caramelized, Damian popped in and dropped a light kiss on her shoulder.
"Smells great, babe. So uhh m'I getting some help soon?" he teased, tugging the end of her ponytail. Sam leveled him with a pursed-lipped stare and pointed her beef-coated wooden spoon at him.
"You, hush now! Every new house needs a good first meal. You'll thank me when you're gross and sweaty and sore and this masterpiece is waiting on you!"
He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. "Can't argue there! I'll see you in a bit." He gave her a quick squeeze about her waist before getting back to lugging in their things. He had to ease past Ash, Joel, and Matt, the three roommates buzzing around the kitchen doorway, drinking up the smell wafting through the empty house.
She continually shooed them out, then refocused on her work. Nearly ready to be left to its own devices, she breezed through the last steps, happy anticipation building with each new note in the spiced, homey scent rising from the pot. In went dry seasonings and flour, tomato paste and sherry, chicken broth and a few sprigs of thyme from the potted plant her father had presented to her to live in her new kitchen. When the whole mess rolled with bubbles again, she took one last full, deep breath of the steam, smiling with satisfaction, then popped on the lid and shoved it all in the oven.

She groans and cracks her back. She'd been moving heavy boxes all day, and she was hot, tired, and aggravated. She stands and makes to step out for some fresh air, and in doing so trips over a loose cord and the boxes she'd just so carefully stacked after checking their contents all topple to the floor and splay their insides over the carpet. Completely dumbfounded and knee stinging with fresh carpet burn, she stares, unable to process more problems. All words escape her and instead comes out a rasped, throaty growl. Too overwhelmed to fix it, she kicks the closest box and stalks out the door and down the stairs. The smell of something cooking drifted up to meet her halfway, and managed to ease some of the tightness in her shoulders. Entering the kitchen, she sees her father has already managed to unearth his panini press and he's grilling wraps for lunch. Growling again, she drops into a chair and crosses her arms. He takes one look at her and motions with his spatula to the sliced flour tortilla on the table, sporting tanlines from the press and oozing cheddar and hunks of ham.
"Eat. You'll feel better."
She huffs once more and looks at it a moment, then decides to hell with it and tucks in. The hot food slides down her throat and spreads happily through her torso, warming her up and quieting both the growling in her belly and the growling in her throat. The boxes stop mattering so much and she isn't worried about not having her mattress yet. She is still home.

"Alright everybody, it's ready!"

It had been two hours, packed full of sore arms, heavy lifting, jostled elbows, and competing trips to the only bathroom. Everyone's first load seemed to have at least made it out of everyone's cars in its entirety, though unpacking was obviously on the back burner for tonight, and they were definitely ready to call it quits and eat. Sam scooped the pot out of the oven, flipped the lid off and jabbed a fork at a hunk of meat to make sure it wasn't a false alarm. It slid in like butter, and she smirked triumphantly - perfect, as always. The spiced scent danced through the air, and her roommates gladly dropped their last boxes and stretched, herding toward the kitchen. While they were waiting, Damian had dug out spoons, a ladle, and five deep, heavy bowls. Sam parcelled out her creation, topping them with the thick, crusty bread she'd put in to warm for the last few minutes and lined the bowls on the counter, waiting to be grabbed up. They flew fast, and when everyone had taken theirs she picked up her own with both hands and followed them out to the barren living room.

For a moment, they stood confused; in all their bustling and bumbling, they'd not managed to bring in much furniture. Undaunted, Sam looked around one more time, then gracefully sank down cross-legged on the fluffy new carpet, her bowl in her lap. The others smiled a little and followed her lead.

"Well...cheers!" She held up her bowl toward them, then dug in. Slurps and satisfied groans chorused around - it tasted even better than it smelled.

"You're right, Sam - this is a masterpiece," Ash gushed, muffled by a full mouth. Assenting grunts from the others were close behind, spattered with thanks and serene sighs. Sam accepted with a justified, sassy smirk and another tip of her bowl toward them, just barely containing her I told you so. The warmth - of the stew, of her memories, of her new found family - grounded Sam, and she leaned contently back against Damian. This, was definitely home.