the-bailey-house

Full House Part 16

I had an amazing time writing this series and the support for it was phenomenal. I hope I can write something as fun, lighthearted, sad and happy like this series, in the future. This is the end guys. Thanks for following me on the road trip that was Full House. Enjoy.

Merry Ficmas Day 23 & 24


in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly,” is quite an interesting one to speculate about. Why is it that, when your life seems to be unravelling into a heap of useless string, you can do nothing about it? Or maybe it’s the fear of not being able to fix things that keeps you rooted in one place as you stare blankly at the people fussing and fretting around you. Isn’t it ironic that when you should be doing something to combat your life falling apart, that’s when you do nothing? Almost as if some higher power is telling you to save your energy because there’s no way to fix this one. If you don’t try then you can’t fail, right?

How do you fight that feeling?

“She left maybe twenty minutes ago,” Meredith said into the phone. She turned around at looked at Owen sitting across from her, listening to Maggie speak into the phone, “Okay, well you call us if you see her in the hospital. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and sat down, looking at Owen’s distant, sea blue eyes.

“Have you tried calling Webber?” Callie suggested as she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, standing awkwardly next to Owen.

“I texted him,” Meredith confirmed, “She wasn’t at his meeting.”

“God,” Callie muttered, bring her hand to her forehead, “I shouldn’t have left the bottle there.”

“It’s not your fault, Callie,” she said, “no one knew this would happen.” Callie nodded and sat down at the kitchen table once more, holding her hands together as if she was praying.

“Owen,” Meredith whispered at first, hoping to grab his attention. At the mention of his name, Owen got up and grabbed his keys and jacket, storming out of the door and slamming it behind him. The noise it made caused Callie to flinch and she gave Meredith a worried look.

His first thought had been to go to Joe’s, opposite the hospital, but he figured Amelia wouldn’t be dumb enough to do her drinking there where she could easily meet someone who knows about her past. He’d merely gone inside to ask the bartender where the closest bar next to this one was. And he went to check too, just in case. He drove downtown to get to the next bar and, just like he’d predicted, her Audi was parked up outside of the bar. He felt his stomach drop when he saw the familiar, LA license plate and his palms sweat against the steering wheel of his car. Would he find her drunk in there, grinding on some nobody in an attempt to forget all about her problems at home? Or worse, would he not find her because she was already wasted, lacking proper judgement and had long since left the bar with said random man. He parked his car on the opposite side of the street, after driving around the corner a second time to find a parking spot, and jogged across the road and into the bar, not sure what or who he’d see on the other side.

When he entered, the rank smell of mixed alcohols and beers flooded his nostrils. There were so many people that he couldn’t see past a few feet in front of him. Following his instinct, he managed to make it to a barstool and his worst fears were realised when he saw a small brunette a few seats down.

“Amelia,” he shouted over the loud music, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“You can call me that if you want,” the woman flirted, turning to face Owen.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” he apologised, giving her a tight smile.

“Is that such a bad thing?” the woman sultrily asked, wiping her hand across Owen’s chest and patting his shirt.

“I’m going to leave now,” Owen announced, taking her hand and putting it back on the table, “have a nice night.”

“Your loss!” he heard her say as he made his way through the crowd and back outside. The cold air refreshed his lungs when he made it out and not having to smell all the alcohol and cigarette smoke was a welcoming thing. However, now, he had to figure out where Amelia was and why her car was still parked up here. Pulling his phone out, he dialled the heavily memorised number into the call screen and put the phone to his ear, listening to the ring tone. Weirdly, as his phone began to ring, a white light came from Amelia’s car, illuminating it. There, in the dark, he watched Amelia look at her ringing phone.

“What are you doing in your car?” he asked when he heard the ringing stop, replaced with silence.

“What are you doing at a bar?” she replied, looking at his bulky build leaning against the wall of the club.

“I was looking for you,” he said, looking back at her in the car. He made the small walk down to the parking lot and stood on the passenger side of Amelia’s car.

“Well, you found me,” she said.

Owen put his hand to the door handle of the car and pulled on it, “Unlock the doors, Amelia. I want to talk.” Amelia sighed and hung up the phone, the clicking sound of her door unlocking following right after. He put his phone in his pocket and jumped in, closing the door behind him and locking it. For a few minutes, they just sat in silence in the front seat, neither looking at the other, too ashamed to do so.

“Why are you here?” Amelia asked, her body turned away from him and staring out of the window.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he answered truthfully.

“I don’t hate you,” she promised him, “I swear I don’t. It just hurts too much to be around you right now. I want nothing but the best for you, I really do. It’s just that sometimes I feel like the best for you isn’t me.”

“You’re not allowed to determine what is or isn’t the best for me,” he told her flatly. In between them, Owen watched an empty Styrofoam cup with a straw and cover on it, wondering how long it was there and what had been in the cup before it was finished, “Have you been drinking?”

“What?” Amelia asked. Her head snapped towards him, eyes red, “Why would you think that?” Owen pointed his eyes at the cup in between them, raising his eyebrows accusingly.

Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed, “That’s an empty smoothie. If I drank every time I was mad, I’d be dead right now. Better to quench my thirst with that than with tequila.” Owen still glanced at her suspiciously, his eyes switching between her and the Styrofoam cup.

She picked up the cup and shoved it into his chest, “Here. See for yourself.” Owen took the cup from her and opened it, partly relieved at seeing the pink goo of leftover smoothie, but it didn’t dismiss the fear that she’d doused the drink in Callie’s tequila.

“Where’s the bottle, then?” Owen proceeded to interrogate her, putting the cup back in its holder.

Amelia furrowed her eyebrows at him and her nose scrunched, “Why does everyone think that every time I get mad, I go out and get drunk?”

“Because you’re an alcoholic. Alcoholics tend to drink when things get hard,” he responded bluntly.

“And normal people don’t?” she asked him, “Your people drink for everything and I’m the alcoholic?”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what, Owen?” Amelia questioned through a tightened jaw, tired of his insistent demands, “There’s no bottle of alcohol in this car.”

“Callie’s bottle of tequila,” he said, “It was on the kitchen table before you left and now it’s gone. Don’t play dumb with me.”

“There was no bottle of tequila on the kitchen table, Owen,” she said, raising one eyebrow at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” Amelia asked angrily, “There was no bottle on the table and there’s no bottle of tequila in my car. You can check if you want.”

“Of course there isn’t,” Owen agreed, his voice raising slightly in anger at all the white lies she was telling him, “you wouldn’t leave the evidence in the car for anyone to find it.”

“Okay, Detective Hunt,” Amelia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “so please explain to me why I would come all the way downtown to a bar if I had Callie’s bottle of tequila to quench my junkie thirst.”

“You ran out,” Owen huffed, his eyes glistened and reddening, “you ran out and you were going to buy more.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Amelia laughed, wiping the hair from her face and combing her fingers through it, “I’m barely 5”4 and not even 130 pounds and you think that I have the capacity to drink a full bottle of tequila and go to a bar for more drinks? Not even as a seasoned, relapsing alcoholic would I be able to drink that much. I wouldn’t be able to speak properly right now if I had drunk that much, I would be dead. Do I look the slightest bit drunk or dead to you?” Owen looked unsurely at her. There could’ve been a number of reasons why she wasn’t drunk/dead right now. Just then, his phone vibrated with a text message from Meredith. Bottle was in Callie’s car. Sorry for the false alarm. Found her yet? It read.

“Callie found the bottle in her car,” Owen told Amelia, responding to Meredith’s text. Yeah, will be home in a bit, hopefully.

“Why is it so easy for you to believe that I drank?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt.

“I don’t know,” Owen huffed, slouching into the passenger seat, “I don’t…know.” He was relieved that the bottle was in her possession but he felt terrible for accusing her of something so serious.

“I haven’t drunk anything,” Amelia said, glancing longingly at the well-lit bar, “not yet, at least. I was going to; it’s why I’m parked up here, obviously.”

“Why didn’t you go in then?” Owen asked, looking over at her.

She looked back at him and smiled, “I saw your car the first time it came round the corner, figured you’d come back around and you’d probably drag me out by my hair if you saw me in there.”

A loud laugh escaped Owen’s mouth, his eyes wrinkling at the sides and his cheeks almost squeezing them shut, “I might have, actually.” Amelia joined her chuckles with his laughing, her face hurting from smiling so much after. When their laughter died down, Amelia sighed.

“I thought I saw you in there, funnily,” Owen confessed, a sheepish grin on his face as he scratched the back of his neck, “It was a hooker.”

Her eyes opened wide, a grin slowly finding its way to her lips as she asked him, “You mistook a hooker for me?! You should’ve probably kept that information to yourself because now I feel like you think I’m a hooker.”

“No, no, it wasn’t like that,” Owen assured her, “she had hair like yours and she was sort of small…”

“So now all small brunettes are Amelia Shepherds?” she sought to confirm.

“No- I just,” he huffed. He looked at her and noticed her playful smile, “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you.” She nodded and laughed softly. She hadn’t laughed like this in a while.

“What’s wrong with us?” she asked him, her lips turning downwards a little, “Why do we always end up fighting like this?”

“I was afraid,” Owen said, “I am afraid. Of losing you. It’s why I told you I was in love with you; I didn’t want to lose you. I think part of the reason why I want to hold on to you so tight is because I fear that the great chemistry that we have won’t happen to me with anybody else again, that this is my last chance to get things right. And I’m blowing it.”

“That’s deep,” she commented, her dimple showing as she gave him a lopsided grin, “you read that in a poetry book?”

“Shut up,” he laughed, resting his hand on her thigh. Her leg flinched when it felt his hand and she looked down at it, putting her hand on top of his.

“I thought I could handle living without your smile, without telling you things about my day and not hearing about yours,” Owen said, looking at nothing in particular, “Then, when we broke up, it was so, so hard and the next day was even worse. I was a mess and we weren’t even broken up for that long. I threw the DC thing way out of proportion and I just…

“What I’m trying to say is, yes, I’m in love with you, but I shouldn’t have told you that just because I was afraid to lose you. That was something insecure that I did and it’s my fault. So, I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to, you know, say it too…therefore there’s no confusion-“

“I love you,” she said. It was quiet, as if a passing thought. But he froze, like it was the most important thing in the world, his hand squeezing impossibly hard on her leg. His lungs tightened and relaxed at the same time, his stomach flipped and his heart beat was impossibly fast.

“Say it again,” he said, delving deep into the blues of her irises. He needed to know that she’d meant what she said and wasn’t just repeating words to make him feel less like a fish out of water. He needed to know that she would say it again if she had to.

“I love you,” she repeated, this time with a small smile. There was something about the way she sat there, quivering like a leaf in the wind, that made him want to pull her into him and hold her forever. She’d known she loved him for a while but she was afraid of telling him, maybe because of rejection or some other foolish reason. However, sitting in the car with his hand on her leg, she felt reassured, confident to the point where the words were already rolling off her tongue like they’d been waiting for a long time to be heard. And they were. She loved him. She was terrified of the feeling, but it was there. And he deserved to know.

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head at her.

“Okay?” she asked him, confused, “I just told you that I love you and all you have to say is okay?”

“You expected me to say it back?” Owen asked.

“Well, yes!” she said, her cheeks becoming rosy with embarrassment, “y-you just told me-“

He was grinning at her.

“You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?” she asked, repeating his words from earlier on.

“Not fun, is it?” he chuckled, flipping his hand over on her thigh to hold onto her hand and lace his fingers with hers.

“You’re an ass,” she told him, smirking.

“I love you too,” he said, brushing his thumb against the skin on the back of her hand, “just in case the joke wasn’t obvious.”

“Get out of my car,” she yelled playfully, pointing towards the car door, “go home.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrendered. She unlocked the car door and allowed him to leave but, before he closed the door, he turned around and ducked his head back inside, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know,” she answered, starting her car. He shook his head and pulled back, closing the door behind him and patting the hood of her car.

The sweet smell of waffles mixed with other breakfast items flooded Owen’s nostrils when his door was opened by a little boy.

“Uncle Owie,” Bailey voiced when he arrived at Owen’s bedside, “Mommy and Aunty Maggie are making breakfast and told me to tell you and Aunty Amy to get your butts outside for when it’s ready.”

Owen stretched his arms outwards and then over his head before flipping over to respond to Bailey, “Tell your mom we’ll be out in five minutes.” Bailey nodded and smiled, prancing out of the bedroom and closing the door.

“Was that Bailey?” Amelia asked in a hoarse voice, turning over to bury her face in Owen’s chest.

“Yeah. Apparently they’ve made breakfast for us to consume,” Owen said, circling his arms around her torso as hers linked around the back of his neck, “hopefully we don’t contract food poisoning.”

“Maggie’s a good cook,” Amelia reminded him, “she’s probably doing everything.”

“That means it won’t be ready for another 10 to 15 minutes,” Owen thoughtfully remarked, “which means…” He tilted his bodyweight away from her and pulled her on top of him, receiving a protesting squeal in response.

“We have plenty time for this,” he pressed his lips against hers, “and this.” His hands moved from her hair to her shoulders, eventually disappearing beneath the covers.

“No, we don’t,” Amelia laughed, “10 to 15 minutes isn’t plenty time.”

“I’ll be quick,” Owen negotiated, rubbing his erection against her.

“Lock the door first,” she reminded him, pushing his hands away from her waist.

“I told you guys to come down ten minutes ago,” Meredith berated Owen and Amelia, “what were you doing?”

“Nothing,” both said in unison. Meredith gave Owen a suspicious look and tugged on his pyjama pants, looking into them.

“Sex? Really?” Meredith asked in a hushed tone, fearing one of her kids might hear her, “Didn’t you have enough of it last night?” Owen shrugged and flashed his boyish grin while Amelia took a seat by the kitchen table. Maggie, one by one, brought the plates of food to the centre of the kitchen table before handing everyone a plate. They all sat at the table, while the kids sat at a mini table next to them, and ate breakfast together one last time. They laughed and teased each other, ruffled Owen’s golden locks and shoved one another’s shoulders; they even threw bits of food at each other like a bunch of wayward, broken siblings. Living with the sisters for six weeks had given Owen a big and little brother role that he hadn’t been able to experience with his own family in forever. He’d never forget the time he spent in their house being teased, teasing and getting up to no good. Heck he’d even miss buying them their tampons but maybe he was only saying that now because he was in a good mood. When they were done, Owen had offered to wash the dishes while they cleaned up the tables and kids and got them ready for school.

“Need some help?” Amelia asked, leaning sideways against the sink with her arms folded.

“I’m almost done,” Owen told her, rinsing a plate. He handed it to her and she took it, drying it off and putting it in the cupboard.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” Owen voiced in a nervous tone.

“Sure, what’s up?” she asked nonchalantly, tiptoeing to reach the top shelf and put away the plate.

“I’ll ask you later,” Owen said, brushing her off as he noticed the other sisters coming into the kitchen with the kids.

“Okay, so I’m going to drop the kids to school and be back before the moving van comes,” Meredith told them, “don’t trash the house.”

“No promises,” Amelia said as they left the kitchen.

The moving van was mainly for the pool table, seeing as Owen didn’t bring much after he’d left the trailer. Meredith had gotten tired of the table and how much of the living room it took up, so she ceremonially pawned it off on him, offering to pay for the expenses of carrying it from her house to his apartment. After getting the workers to put it in the truck, accidentally chipping off a piece of one of Meredith’s dry walls, Owen was finally ready to leave. He re-entered the house and grabbed his bags from his bedroom, meeting Amelia on the way out.

“So this is goodbye, huh?” she joked, trying to hide her sadness about his impending departure.

“I don’t want it to be,” Owen replied, dropping his bags and moving closer to her.

“Well, there’s always-“

“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing his hand against the small of her back and pulling her to him, “move in with me.”

Amelia looked up at him, stunned for a second, “Are you serious?”

“I am,” he grinned, ecstatic that she seemed to be leaning towards a yes.

“Uh,” Amelia said, pulling herself out of his grip, “wait right here.” Before he could say anything, she dashed upstairs to her bedroom and left him, returning a few minutes later.

“Here,” she said, handing him a toothbrush, one of her shirts and pants, and a pair of socks.

“This isn’t enough clothes, Amelia,” he said, laughing at the sleepover kit. That’s when he realised.

“You’re not moving in with me,” he said, frowning.

“I can’t move in with you, Meredith needs me here,” she reluctantly told him, “Derek would want me here to help her. And we have so many unfinished things to talk about, now is not the right time. One happy week doesn’t make our relationship stable.” He nodded and smiled sadly. She was right.

“Ask me again in a few months, though,” she added, moving to give his cheek a peck, “I just might say yes.” The statement definitely gave him something to look forward to in the future.

“So then what’s this?” Owen asked, looking at the items in his hand.

“For when I sleep over, silly,” she said, winking suggestively at him.

He laughed and stuffed the clothes in one of his bags, “Okay. I’ll hold onto it, then.”

“Van’s ready,” Maggie shouted from outside the house. Owen yelled an okay before turning back to Amelia. He felt like he was running out of time and it made him feel nervous and stutter on his words.

“Amelia, I-,” he began, not sure what else he could say to prolong the moment.

“I know,” she responded, smiling euphorically, “I love you too.”  Owen nodded and turned to leave, looking back at Amelia once more and waving. This wasn’t the end, he told himself, it was just the beginning.

The beginning of something beautiful.