neighbours for a week (and a little more)
when Emma’s asked to take care of their house while David and Mary Margaret are off honeymooning, she does not expect someone else to be assigned to their house as well.
kinda a neighbour au? also with the slightest hint of captain charming [ao3]
House sitting turns out to be much more fun than she’d expected. With the way they’d apologized profusely for asking this of her, she’d braced herself for far worse.
It was nice – the not being awoken by sounds from the subway in the dead of night was a good change, and for the first time in months, she’d gotten a full night’s rest. It was basically a free stay in a comfortable apartment, with an abundant amount of food source (not that she’s actually going to make food – come on, take out always wins) and a pretty cozy bathtub to soak herself in after a day of chasing down bail jumping assholes, the only down side being caring for Mary Margaret’s ridiculous(ly beautiful) orchids, and not to forget hers and David’s Satan of a feline.
(She doesn’t know what she’s got against her, but the cat practically hisses at Emma the moment she gets remotely close to her. But of course when David’s around, the little shit is an angel - with loud purrs and large eyes, the Persian manages to convince David that there’s no such foul play.)
But besides that, it’s been good.
So when she gets back, just narrowly managing to pour the kibble into Sandy’s bowl (such a sweet name, for such a demonic thing) without having her eyes clawed, she runs the bath, hurrying back to her current room for her book because God, does she need a soak. It was a rough day and all for nothing – given her perp gave her a run for her money, which in the end, she did not get, by the way. So right now, a long, hot bath is exactly what is needed.
On the way back towards her watery escape, she hears the sound of keys scraping against the lock, the chime of metal against metal a warning to her ears.
David and Mary Margaret aren’t due back for at least another 6 days and the chances of their trip being cut short is slim.
She’s stripped down – clothes lying haphazardly on the cool tile floor, wrapped up in a soft robe – and the first thing her mind jumps to is her gun that lays on the counter next to her jacket.
There’s a good ten feet to the counter, and the intruder could enter at any given second, but she’s fast and trained and agile, reaching the gun before the click of the door sounds and she’s ready, gun pointed and finger at the trigger as the door creeks open and—