Chapter Text
Sarah parked the car and pulled a gift card from her pocket. She handed it to the slouched, sullen teenager in the passenger seat. “There’s three hundred dollars on that. You have one hour to buy yourself essentials, a week’s worth of clothing, and maybe some snack food depending on how you budget. Or you could do whatever you want and make an attempt at running off. The choice is yours.”
Emma gave her a confused look, the gift card in her hand.
“You’re sixteen. Two years to go before you age out of the system and have to fend for yourself. You can either let me get you as prepared as possible, or I can send you back to the group home in the back of a squad car. Your pick.”
“What do you mean, as prepared as possible?”
Sarah was pleased, but didn’t let it show. “Cooking cheap meals, keeping a checkbook balanced, how to take care of a car. Why some clothes should be separated before washing and why some of it doesn’t matter. How to apply and get a job, rent a house, get into college if you want. Everything you aren’t going to learn in a group home, high school, or juvie.”
“And what do you get out of it?” Ah, so much suspicion. It made Sarah’s chest ache a little, even it if was understandable.
But she grinned a little. “Someone doing my laundry, checking my oil, and cooking dinner.” Her grin grew at Emma’s snort. Good, she was aiming for some kind of amusement. But Sarah grew serious and shifted to face Emma a bit more. “I was one of the lucky kids with decent parents and a good home. I have no idea what you’ve been through, if your life’s been good or bad. But I do know I want to share the stability I knew.” She winked. “Without the diaper changing and two a.m. feedings.”
Emma gave her a look. “I’m incontinent and I have tapeworm.”
Sarah laughed. “C’mon. Let’s see if we can’t get some Depends on sale.”
Emma was smiling just a little as they walked into the store. Sarah considered that a point in her favor.
~
Emma thought Sarah was the weirdest, best foster parent ever. Sarah didn’t mother her, didn’t talk down to her, and didn’t treat Emma like a ten year old. But there were hugs, the explanations were as simple or as detailed as Emma needed, and Sarah didn’t expect Emma to know everything. The rules of the house were simple, the expectations of Emma short and to the point. Sarah wanted Emma to succeed, but no way in hell was Sarah doing the work. Sarah walked her through something, made sure Emma got it, and then expected Emma to be able to do it. Emma was allowed to ask question if she forget or was unsure, and Sarah explained and reminded without sounding as if she thought Emma was an idiot.
There were rough spots. Sarah didn’t know Emma’s sore points, and vice versa. Sometimes they were careful, other times tempers flared and they jabbed harshly into a wound. Doors slammed. But it was never the front door. Sarah paced the backyard time to time, cooling off. Emma sat on her bed and hugged the backpack she had ready for a quick escape and fumed. But neither of them left the property. And they came back to each other to apologize and talk it out.
It was weird, awesome, and it worked. Emma did not want to fuck it up, even while she waited for Sarah to want something horrible out of her. Every instinct told Emma there was no need to fear molestation, but Sarah’s mind was very Slytherin and Emma wondered what payment would be asked for the knowledge, the clean house, the three filling meals.
So even as they went into their third month of a rather even keel relationship, Emma held her breath and waited for the other shoe to drop.
It wasn’t a shoe that dropped.
It was a small, furry, not-quite-a-Gremlin looking thing. From the top of the linen closet. Emma screamed. Sarah came running. Words Emma never expected came from Sarah’s mouth.
“Damn it, Wek.” Sarah picked up the creature, put an arm around Emma, and took them both to the living room. “Remember how you asked me what was in it for me? Well, I need you to keep a secret. And I need you to believe.”