Work Text:
"Why don't you just move into my house then?"
"…huh?" Shelby blinks, looking up from the textbook she's been attempting to read from for the last hour, at the man sitting across from her with his feet kicked up on the table, casually scrolling on his phone.
He glances away from the screen and raises an eyebrow at her. "The house outside town? The country house?"
"…Scott, you live downtown."
"Yeah, but that's, like, my place. If you need another, you can just have the house outside town. It's not like anybody else is using it."
"…huh?!"
"There it is!"
Shelby gapes, nearly sticking her whole head out of the window as Scott brings the car to park in the rounded driveway leading up to what is most definitely not a house, but a mansion. In the backseat, Pyro lets out a choked squawk, also with his head basically out the window.
"Scott! It's huge!" She exclaims, gazing wide-eyed at the huge place—it's four stories at minimum, and probably includes an attic space as well. The mansion is obviously old, Victorian in style and dark in color. It's clear the place has seen better days, but it's still the biggest, most insanely incredible looking building she's seen before. Even if the roof appears to be sagging a bit in places and the paint on the outside is chipped and peeling, and the front door looks to be hanging slightly off of its hinges.
Scott, infuriatingly, merely shrugs. "Eh, the beach one is bigger. And much prettier."
"How many houses do you have?!"
"Only, like, five…maybe seven, actually. If you count the ones out of the country."
"Scott!"
"Well, it certainly…has potential?"
"It's a dump!"
"Pyro!" Shelby hisses, smacking his arm and turning to make see if Scott is paying attention. Thankfully, he seems entirely too focused on the peeling wallpaper down the long hallway. "You can't just say that, what if you make him upset?!"
"Ah, s-sorry, it's um…lovely!" Pyro laughs awkwardly, cringing as he runs a hand over the stair banister, then wipes it off on the wall. "Lovely," He repeats, clearing his throat.
"It could certainly use some work," Scott admits, and Shelby breathes a sigh of relief.
"That's okay!" She exclaims brightly, approaching the closest window and pulling the old, dusty curtains open. It was supposed to let in the sunlight and brighten the place up, but instead what happens is the left curtain rod snaps immediately, sending the fabric crashing to the floor and throwing a cloud of dust into the air so thick all three of them start coughing.
"Well…" She continues when the dust has mostly settled, wiping tears from her eyes. "We'll just have to work together and fix it up!"
"I…suppose…" Scott doesn't sound particularly enthused at the prospect. "Or I could just hire someone to—"
"No!" She grabs ahold of his hand, then reaches over for Pyro's as well, tugging both of them into a hug while she bounces excitedly on her toes. "Come on, you guys, it'll be so much fun! Let's fix it up together!"
"…alright," Scott relents with a sigh and a fond smile. "Fine. If that's what you want, Shelby, we can do it ourselves."
"Yes!" She exclaims, throwing both arms around his middle. "Thank you thank you thank you!"
"Erm, shouldn't we at least have…I don't know, someone who knows anything about building to help with that?" Pyro asks, nervously poking at a sagging wooden beam next to the stairs. "You know, so we don't…die terribly in some stupid, horrible accident?"
Scott smirks. "Ah—as as a matter of fact, I know just the person for that."
"…No,"
"Oh, come on!" Shelby clasps her hands and bows her head towards the taller man in the doorway. "You'd be such a big help! After all, what do any of us know about building? What if we do something wrong and the whole house collapses? We'd die horrible, tragic deaths—and it all could have been prevented!"
"Not my problem," He grumbles, attempting to shut the door, but Shelby's foot keeps it open, the tip of her boot shoved in the corner of the doorway. He opens back up to glare at them again. "Do you mind?"
"Plllleeeeeaaaassseeeeee!" She begs, keeping her head bowed forward even as the other man just groans exasperatedly and ignores her pleading.
"Aren't you a friend of that Goldsmith?" He speaks the name with venom, crossing his arms over his chest. "His family's got more money than God—just tell your friend to hire a contractor or something. You don't need me." Again, he attempts to close the door on them, but Shelby slams her palm against it, which makes Pyro jump nervously behind her.
"But that would ruin the fun!" She insists, leaning fully into the doorway even as he takes a step back, grimacing. "Please! We really need your help!"
"I said—"
"Um, if I may…?"
Shelby gasps, standing straight at the sudden arrival of a second voice. There's a man standing behind Owen in the doorway, at least a whole head taller than him and with long, wavy red hair. He smiles gently at them as he sidles up beside Owen and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Owen, love, I think you should give it a try—it'll be good for you to get out of the house some more."
Owen huffs, leaning against the door, and the look on his face can only really be described as…a pout. "With Goldsmith, though?"
The newcomer laughs softly. "I understand your hesitation, but even he can play nice at times. And besides, these two friends of his seem perfectly lovely, don't you think?" He turns to smile at Shelby and Pyro at that, and Shelby beams.
"We are!" She says brightly, nodding enthusiastically. "It'll be fun! And it means you'll be welcome over at any time!"
The concept does not seem to entice him very much, if the way his eyebrow twitches is any indication. Despite that, he sighs deeply before pushing off of the doorframe. "Fine, I'll come help you all—but you should know it's only because I am being emotionally manipulated."
The man standing next to him smirks, turning back to Shelby with a sweet smile. "He'll see you tomorrow—I'll make sure of it."
"O-Oh, okay! Great!" Shelby beams, elbowing Pyro until he proffers his thanks as well. They turn to leave, and as she looks back to wave goodbye to the two men, she catches sight of the taller one pressing a smiling kiss to his lips and the flush that rises quickly to Owen's face.
"What's wrong?" Pyro asks, noticing she's stopped on the sidewalk. She turns around and smiles, continuing on past him.
"Nothing's wrong!" She exclaims, grabbing his hand. "Come on, let's go pick out our paint swatches!"
"You're going to cut your fingers off."
"No, I'm not!"
"Yes, you are."
"I am not—hey!"
Owen rolls his eyes as he nudges Pyro away from his table saw. Shelby squints down at the measurements on the paper she's holding for them, the scribbled numbers Owen had written basically illegible.
"Shelby, he's being rude again." Pyro comes over to complain while Owen takes over the task of cutting the wooden pieces they need to build the shelves they want to put beside the fireplace. Repairing the walls and repainting had taken days (and plenty of arguments), but Shelby was excited to finally be moving onto the most fun part in her opinion—decorating.
"Well, it'd probably be better to avoid another trip to the hospital. Maybe you let him lead when it comes to be the big dangerous cutting tool." She says without even looking up. The sound of wood being split fills the shed as Owen starts cutting the plank along the lines. Pyro plops down in the chair next to her with his arms crossed, watching Owen work and clearly trying not to look too annoyed at being essentially benched.
After a couple more minutes, Owen hits the button to turn off the saw and drops all of the cut planks onto his workbench before turning back to them. "You want to be involved so badly, then you put the thing together." He says to Pyro, and despite his sharp tone, Pyro lights up and shoots to his feet immediately.
"Um, are we sure that's the best idea?" Shelby questions even as Owen hands him the box of screws and his drill. He merely shrugs, and Shelby rushes to hover near his shoulder while Pyro starts fiddling with the planks. Owen stands all the way back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as Pyro tries to fit the planks together the way they'd planned.
He fits together the two first planks and then turns to look at Shelby with a furrow between his brows. "Is this right?" He whispers at her, pointedly covering his mouth. Shelby looks back down at the papers in her hands—and subsequently comes to the realization that she has absolutely no idea what she's looking at.
"I have no idea." She whispers back, and after a second of silent staring, they both simultaneously turn back to look at Owen. He's ignoring them completely, typing something on his phone.
Pyro clears his throat, picking up the drill. "Alright, well—here goes nothing, I guess."
Shelby winces as the drill turns on, watching in a mixture of awe and horror as he attempts to screw the two planks together—and the drill bit veers off to the side, splitting the bottom plank into five different pieces.
Both of them stare down at the broken pieces scattered across the floor of the work shed for several seconds before someone clears their throat behind them. When they turn around, Owen is glaring at both of them with a singular eyebrow raised. "Now are you going to let me take the lead on this part?"
Pyro swallows, sets down the drill and steps away from the table with a nervous laugh. "Y-Yeah…knock yourself out, man."
Shelby snickers as Owen steps up to take over the project, elbowing him in the ribs. "At least you didn't try to stab yourself this time."
He makes a face and returns the gesture just as hard, but the effect is ruined by the flush of red covering his cheeks, ears, and neck. "Shut up,"
"It's so bright,"
"I know!" Shelby chirps, happily rolling the paint roller through the sunshine yellow paint sitting in the tray. Pyro and Owen stand in the doorway watching—Pyro looking horrified, Owen stifling a smirk.
"Is Scott okay with that color?" Pyro asks, again pointing down at the brightly colored tray. Shelby just shrugs, returning to the task of painting the wall in front of her. She's been at it for an hour already, having been too excited to wait for Pyro to get back from class so he could help.
"He said I could pick whatever color I want." She explains, stepping up on the ladder to reach the top of the wall. "And I liked this one!"
"I think it's perfect," Owen loses the battle and smirks, looking over the open can of yellow paint sitting next to the tray and the unopened, smaller can of pink paint. "What's the pink for?"
"Flowers!" She cheers, pointing to the ones she stenciled out already earlier that day.
"If you wanted flowers, wouldn't it have been easier to just buy wallpaper?" Pyro asks, even as he's already getting out a second paint roller and kneeling down to help.
"Well, yeah, but where's the fun in that? This way is way more fun!"
"I think it's a great idea, Shelby." Owen taps a finger on the top of the pink paint can, still smirking.
"I think Scott is going to burst a blood vessel..." Pyro mutters under his breath, and Owen cackles, cracking the top off of the second paint can and gleefully picking up the stencils.
"Why do you think it's so great?"
"I don't even like milkshakes—"
"Then you can get something else!" Shelby continues to tug at Owen's arm as he keeps resisting, standing outside the front door to the ice cream parlor she'd dragged them all to to celebrate officially finishing the final touches on the house.
"I don't want anything else—"
"You may as well give up, man—she's not going to stop until you're in one of those booths." Pyro suggests, and Owen lets out a groan.
"Fine…"
"Oh come now, Owen, it's not that bad, is it?" Scott smirks as he holds the door open for the three of them. "You've already spent so much time with us now. Surely you've grown to at least find our company tolerable."
Owen just glares at him. "No,"
Shelby pushes between both of them and immediately spots her favorite booth, empty. She gasps, grabbing Scott's wrist and literally pulling him away before an argument can be started. "Our spot is free! Let's go!"
They scramble to her favorite spot in the whole shop—right next to the jukebox and the big window that overlooks the park next door—and make their orders—strawberry for Shelby, vanilla for Pyro, and salted caramel for Scott. Owen, after a moment of very tense silent consideration, orders a bowl of cookie dough instead.
"Is this normal for you guys?" He asks as their orders arrive, picking out the pieces of cookie dough to set to the side of the bowl and eat separately.
"Only when there's something to celebrate!" Shelby swipes her finger through the whipped cream on top of her shake and pops it in her mouth. "We came here after Pyro got accepted into grad school, and then again when Drift and I became friends—and when Scott and Avid finally went on a date—"
"And also when Avid flipped his lid thinking he looked so dumb on said date that Scott would never wanna talk to him again—"
"The point is, it's tradition!" Shelby interrupts. "And now you're in on it too! Oh oh—you should bring Louis with you next time! We don't get to talk enough, and I like him!"
Owen sighs. "I'll…talk to him. And he likes you too, by the way." Shelby beams, hugging his arm, and even though he tenses up, he doesn't push her away.
"So will you be joining us tomorrow for the grand reveal, Owen?" Scott asks, leaning back in the seat with a smile. "Everyone will be there to come see the finished house."
"I have an appointment in the city, and Louis is coming with me, so we won't make it."
"That's alright, you live right next door! We can always get together another time!" Shelby assures, bumping her shoulder into his. "And we know you don't care much for crowds, so it's alright."
He hums, and although he doesn't say anything, Shelby knows he's grateful for the assurance.
"More fun for us then, I suppose." Scott shrugs.
"Oh, I know! Let's toast!" Shelby raises her cup above the table. "To a job complete! Good job, everybody! We did it!"
The boys all raise their own cups—Owen his spoon—to clink against hers. And she couldn't hardly imagine a more perfect way to celebrate the accomplishment than with the people she'd come to call her best friends.