Wreckless ( Ddlb ) *Complete*

Falling into place

Emmett:

Finnegan texts me on Monday morning telling me we got the house. He asks if there's any way I can possibly be there for the home inspection on Tuesday. He can't get away and I'm off work so I obviously do it. Besides, they could tell him the roof was caving in and he wouldn't reconsider so it's good for me to be there.

The house passes with flying colors. We need a new outlet in one of the bathrooms, they inform us that the roof is in fact going to need to be replaced in five years or so, and the attic could use more insulation. I'm glad we go up and I get to see the space. It's actually huge and I can stand up and stretch my arms up in quite a bit of it. All in all, that's nothing Finn can't deal with so he signs his life savings away and he has a house.

He's closing in a week and a half. I panic but Finn reminds me that we don't have to be living there then, we just can. We can move in slowly or even wait a bit. He's decided that he wants to get painters in to repaint a few rooms and that buys me some time.

I still have to work for three weeks before Peter shuts down the garage. I have some time to get started on packing things up but there's no way I'll be ready by then. Finnegan gets me the name of a rental company and I meet up with an agent who walks through the house and tells me what they do and don't do and for how much. She tells me what she can get for rent and it's plenty, even with their fee, to pay the mortgage. Things are falling into place.

He's actually home when I get back from the garage on Friday and he declares that he'd like to go furniture shopping over the weekend but first, right now, he wants cookies. "Is there some place around here that we can get some?" he asks after I kiss him. He has his zoo elephant on the couch, cute rainbow undies on, and anime is playing on the TV. Even I can read those signs.

"Depends if you want fancy cookies or regular ones, darling." What does he think this is? White Marsh?  Ellicott City?  There's no bakery next door.

"Um, are chocolate chip ones fancy?"

He's funny. "No. Did you eat dinner?"

He sighs. "No Emmy." Oh that pout is mighty. He looks so sad.  "Want cookies."

"Stop, you're adorable. How about this? I'll make cookies if you eat something healthy while I do. Hummus?"

"Yay. Deal!" I pull out some carrot sticks and crackers and the hummus and he carries everything over to the table. "Are you really gonna make me some cookies?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure I have everything. Wait, how about m&m cookies? I don't know if I--"

"Yes!" ... have chocolate chips. Alrighty, m&ms it is. I know I have a few bags stashed around here somewhere. "Emmy? The hummus is icky."

I look over and ewwww, it is. I grab it up. "Sorry darling. Let me find you something else."

"Peanut butter and jelly?" he asks. That I can do. "Toasted please." Fine. Stinker. I cut it diagonally and slide it over. At least I was smart enough to take the butter out already so it's softening. "Yum, thanks. Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"You gonna let me lick the bowl?"

Oh yeah, I'm going there. "I always let you lick, little boy. Now eat your sandwich."

He eats half and I'm finished smashing the butter and sugar together before he speaks again. "Glad it's Friday."

"I'm sure you are, it was a long week." I barely saw him and I'm really not exaggerating. I'm not even sure he came home Wednesday night. "I have to work and we'll go shopping tomorrow but I can be little tonight, right? Can I?"

Poor thing. I go over and kiss his forehead. "Of course." I'm stirring in the m&m's when he brings his plate over. He peeks at what I'm doing and then steals the bowl from me. "Finny!"

"I wants cookies."

"They're not cookies yet, that requires cooking. See? Cookies? Cooking. Even sounds the same." Huh, I just realized that. Actually though, you bake cookies. Too complicated for me right now, I need to get the cookie dough back. At least most of it.

"No, gonna lick the bowl. You said I could." He's backed himself into the corner with one arm wrapped around the bowl like it's a live grenade and he's sticking two fingers at a time in and licking the batter off his fingers.

"Seriously?" My hands sort of wave, I'm not sure why. "Don't I get any?"

"Course. You made them. I'll share." He's not sharing. "In one minute." He can eat a lot of cookie dough in a minute and he does. The poor boy is going to have an upset stomach. I try to give him a rather authoritative stare and he passes the bowl back. "It's yummy.  Sorry."

"Can we make some cookies now?" I have to get the sheet pan out of the cabinet and I'm worried he'll run off with the bowl again.

"Yep. And popcorn?" I'm getting nauseous just thinking about the stuff he's putting in his stomach tonight. "Wanna watch a movie. Please?"

A movie sounds good, actually, I'm tired. "Alright. You go pick something while these cook, okay?"

"Kay!"

Such a brat. I've figured it out though, well, I'm noticing a pattern. When he can't be Finny for awhile he tends to be more bratty and insistent.; I guess because he's missed it. He knows he only has a short window tonight and he's trying to make the most of it. As long as he doesn't puke all over the living room it'll be fine, it really doesn't bother me.

Furniture shopping tomorrow is gonna be interesting. I realize that I don't actually know what his style is; I've only seen him in a furnished apartment. As long as I can really have my recliner couch I'll be okay. And a comfortable bed, that's a must. I'm sure I can swing those two things. I need to find out what color he's painting the master bedroom but I can't ask tonight, I don't want to mess with his headspace.

I slide the cookies into the oven, set the timer and grab a bag of popcorn to toss in the microwave. I worked my ass off all week to make sure he had healthy lunches and dinners (mostly leftovers in the fridge by the time he got home) and now he's eating crap. He really is splurging tonight but if this is what it takes to get him through another week I'm happy to do it. I put the remaining cookie dough in the freezer so I can make him some cookies for his lunchbox next week; he'll enjoy them and I can ration them out.

"Daddy?" he calls from the living room. "Hurry! I miss you."

I can't help but smile.  "On my way, grasshopper."