Chapter Text
An advert for a certain furniture company comes onto the telly, catching Alex's attention far more than the magazine article she's trying to read for what's probably the fifteenth time.
“Ya know what I miss?” She announces to the room, neither Hal nor Tom paying her much attention, both caught up in their own hobbies. “IKEA meatballs. And the free refills...” She frowns, remembering chaotic trips to IKEA Glasgow with her dad and brothers. “And the little hot-dogs at the end... We should go, you know. This place could do with a spruce up.”
Hal looks up from his embroidery and squints over at her in confusion.
“...To the Swedish furniture shop?”
He shudders at the sudden, unwelcome memory of the one time Leo went out and brought home a Billy bookcase in the early 2000s. At least the squabbling over the terrible flat-pack furniture had ended when S Club 7 came onto the radio and Pearl blew the electrics for the entire flat. It was, quite literally, a dark time he'd vowed never to repeat.
Alex sighs in exasperation. “It's more than just a furniture shop, Hal. Have you ever even been to an IKEA?”
“No, Alex. I haven't. And I don't plan for that to change either.” He looks back down at the hoop cradled in his hands, irritated by the interruption. This is precise work that requires careful concentration.
Tom, who has up until this point, been quietly sat by himself carving another wooden wolf, pipes up, feeling the tension in the room.
“Hal, don't be such a wally, it could be fun, like, we could make a day'uh'it. I don't mind drivin'.” He grins over at Alex, who returns the smile.
“...Come to think of it, tasting those meatballs one last time could be my unfinished business.”
Hal cannot help but let out a groan. “Don't be so absurd. Have you forgotten you can't eat?”
“Well, funnily enough the whole being dead thing had slipped my mind.” Alex shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Of course I haven't forgotten, ya idiot.”
“If it means tha' much to ya, Alex, I'll let you do tha' tastin' thing, if really you want.”
“Thank you, Thomas. At least someone in this house cares about me passing over.” She glares at Hal and rolls the magazine she's holding into a tube.
“I don't think eating cheap Swedish food is your unfinished business, Alex.” Hal mutters, this time not taking his eyes off the intricate embroidery. Alex takes full advantage of his distraction, getting up and hitting him around the head with the magazine.
And for a moment, Hal is transported straight back to Southend, with Pearl in a huff wielding one of her copies of Marie Claire as a weapon and Leo calmly sat in his armchair, shaking his head at them. Except it's not Leo in the armchair it's Tom, and it's not Pearl stomping off out of the room, it's Alex in her great big boots, despite the fact she could have just Rent-a-Ghosted away.
As he comes back into the present, Hal is suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in his thumb, noticing he's managed to stab himself with his sewing needle in the commotion. Worse still, he's bleeding on his embroidery project. Tom has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing as he carries on whittling and learns a few swear words that haven't been used in centuries.
***
The following Saturday they're piled into Hal's car on route home from IKEA Cardiff.
“I can't believe I let you talk me into that. Never again, Alex. Never, again.”
Hal grips the wheel so tightly it's a miracle it hasn't broken. Alex sits in the front passenger seat, slouched against the door.
“Hey, I got you out, didn't I? How was I supposed know you'd get lost and freak out?”
Hal is about to dispute that he did not in fact 'freak out', but he decides he hasn't got the energy after the day they've had.
“That place is a labyrinth. Not even Hatch could come up with something as evil as that.”
Alex rolls her eyes. “You are such a drama queen. You only have to follow the arrows, it isn't difficult. A child could do it.”
“I'm not good with crowds, Alex. It was chaos, there were people everywhere. I could have hurt someone. There was an entire section of mirrors. I could have been found out.”
“You didn't though, did you?” She grins smugly. Hal grinds his jaw and concentrates on the road.
“Wha' I don't get,” Tom leans forward from the back-seat. “Is nothin' were proper wood. It's all plastic. It's a load o' rubbish. 'Ow's it so expensive?”
“The trouble with people these days, Tom, is that they don't appreciate true craftsmanship. Things used to be built to last a lifetime”
Alex bites her tongue not to make a remark about old things and digs out several of the tiny pencils stuffed into her jacket pocket to inspect them. They could almost be tiny stakes...
“There's nowt wrong wi' the house as it is anyway.” Tom continues. “Annie liked it that way, so we should keep it like that in her memory.”
That does raise a small smile from Hal.
“Well said, Tom”
Alex turns round in her seat to look at Tom through the gap, “Hey, you liked the food though?”
Hal grimaces silently. Meatballs, chips and gravy dished out onto a plate you have to carry to the table yourself is not his idea of fine dining. They'd had better standards back when him and Tom were working at the Café on the Corner.
“Yeah that was nice, like. Still feels weird when you do that tasting thing.”
“...Thanks for letting me.”
“Sorry it weren't your unfinished business.”
“It's fine really, I didne think it would be.” She shrugs and if her voice sounds a little sadder, she soon changes the subject. “Anyway, the big shark you got was cool.”
Tom grins and hugs the giant blue plush shark that's sharing the back-seat with him closer.
“Yeah. The shark's great. Shame we couldn't get a bunny.”
“Well, next time we go, I am totally stealing one of those big fat bears.”
Hal narrowly avoids smashing the car.