Work Text:
The pile of supplies in the centre of the room is growing.
A few tins of paint, some plastic sheeting, more planks of wood than are reassuring, a collection of screwdrivers, a tin of assorted screws and nails, a number of paintbrushes in various sizes and… a saw.
Apprehension growing, Florence checks tentatively, “Jack, you know you don’t have to do this? I might not be here that long, you don’t need to redecorate an entire room for me.”
“Nonsense,” he replies, testing out a drill in a way that somehow isn’t reassuring, “the room needs a bit of personality to become yours and besides, I’ve been needing a new hobby.”
Siobhan catches her eye then pipes up, “Right and dad, we support you getting a hobby. But are we sure that interior design is it?”
Shrugging cheerfully, he replies, “That’s what the quiz said.”
“Dad,” she sighs, exasperated, “you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.”
“Oh I know love, last time I ever get cooking advice from a forum-” he shakes his head mournfully as they exchange another look- “right, you two, outa here, I’ll be done before you know it.”
And with that he cajoles them gently from the room, shutting the door firmly in their faces.
It opens again a matter of seconds later as he pokes his head around the doorframe and insists seriously, “No peaking.”
Left with little choice, the pair settle on the sofa downstairs, unnerved by the bangs and crashes that are always followed up by a cry of 'I’m fine!’ and the irregular use of power tools.
Power tools which Jack has never shown any particular affinity towards being able to use.
“What’re the chances we end up in A&E before the end of the day?” Siobhan asks mildly after a particularly loud crash.
Florence simply looks at her, eyebrows raised. “High.”
Even Siobhan’s attempt to sneak a peak by bringing him tea fails. And so they’re left waiting, not in any way reassured when he appears for a ‘biscuit break’ with wood shavings decorating his hair.
“How’s it going?” Florence asks, torn halfway between amusement and concern.
His eyes sparkle as he grins, “Making progress!”
Still, she’s not convinced she’s going to have a bedroom by the time the day is over. The chances of her sleeping on the sofa tonight look high.
It’s nearly midnight when the room is deemed ‘ready,’ the wood shavings now having been joined by paint adorning his cheek and streaked through his hair.
Jack leads them ceremoniously up the stairs then opens the door with a flourish, allowing Florence to step through, blinking as she stares around in shock.
“Woah it’s… amazing?”
The back wall is painted a deep magenta with a complex looking shelving system built into it, with the other walls a pale lilac and all the furniture given a refreshing coat of white.
It’s unexpectedly… cohesive.
“Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised!” Jack protests, “I may be no expert, but I did my research.”
Struck by how homely it feels, Florence turns and pulls him into a warm hug. “Thank you!”
He squeezes her back as Siobhan chuckles from the doorway, “You really pulled it out of the bag, I’ll give you that.”
“Well,” he pulls back with a wink, suddenly brandishing a paintbrush, “interior design is no mere hobby.”