A/N- hello! From the prompt- "Can you lift me up? I can't reach." from aimee-jessica (Tumblr)

And thank you aimed-jessica for being my beta and pointing out how bad of a writer I am! (okay give me a break my grammar was appealing and everything went wrong like usual its bad but whatever)

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Shelagh and Patrick had decided several weeks ago that they were going to re-do the garden. They had come to the conclusion that it needed attention when Patrick had made mention to her that there had been no landscaping, or general garden work for that matter, completed since Marianne had passed away nearly three years prior.

Shelagh had begrudged the idea of Patrick enlisting the help of Fred. While the man had proven to her over the years that he was handy, she had always known that Fred's ideas were mad and, half the time, they weren't even on the right side of the law.

Shelagh had wanted to be let in on the plan that Fred and Patrick had decided. She had been watching from the kitchen as both men excitedly bounced ideas off each other, and she had become frustrated when the pair set to work digging a hole in the middle of the garden without her approval.

So far no accidents had happened; Well, no serious ones. Fred had slipped up on a pile of dirt within the hole, he landed firmly on his backside. He and Patrick had laughed about it after Fred insisted that the only thing that was broken was his pride.

Shelagh had only ventured outside once, to bring the teacups inside It was there that she had finally seen the mammoth hole the men had dug, and she wondered why on earth they needed a hole that large in their yard.

With the cups brought inside, Shelagh had decided to venture back into the yard barefooted to inspect the hole again, but with the sun finally falling below the horizon, she misplaced her footing and ended up falling straight in.

She was fortunate to only receive a blow to the shin which she assumed would begin to bruise any moment now.

Shelagh tried getting out, however, she found her limbs too short to be able to fully pull herself out.

With Fred gone, Timothy spending the night with his grandmother, and her husband presumably in the bath cleansing himself of the day's activities, she shifted and turned around in an attempt to find a way out.

After what seemed like an age, the silence of late evening was broken when she finally heard her husband's footfalls on the stairs. "Thank goodness!" She muttered quietly to herself.

From the hole, Shelagh could hear Patrick walk through the kitchen, back into the lounge and she could see clearly in her mind how his hand would run through his wet hair as he looked for her. She thinks she heard a "Shelagh" in his deep voice.

She meekly shouted "Out here." to him.

He stepped outside with a smile which soon vanished. "Shelagh, where-" but before Shelagh could say anything he looked down.

She had never heard such a laugh.

"Oh Patrick grow up!" she rolled her eyes to hide the embarrassment. "Shelagh, " he wheezed, "How did you?" he continued laughing.

"Oh be quiet" she whispered and Patrick eventually stopped laughing. "Are you done?" She barely made out his nod in the dim evening light. , "Good, now," she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "Can you lift me up? I can't reach." she whispered, her eyes looking down in embarrassment

"Oh darling," Patrick jumped in, much to Shelagh's confusion. He dug his hands into the side of the hole at different heights to create small footholds. He pulled himself out of the hole in one fluid motion, turning to look back down on his wife.

Slowly but surely Shelagh made her way up, each foot slotting into the holes he had dug for her. She caused herself for not having thought of the idea herself, but equally cursed her husband for not just reaching in to help her out.

Patrick had extended his strong arm for her to grab a hold of as she clambered out of the hole, her bare feet becoming more soiled as she felt dirt accumulate under her toenails.

She was too embarrassed to say or do anything, so as her eyes shifted about awkwardly, she made haste through the backdoor, not caring for the dirty footprints she would be left to clean later, all the while mumbling about needing a bath; this was endearing to her husband.

It was about half an hour before Shelagh came down the stairs; she had been finished for five minutes before she came down, caught up staring at her reflection, scolding herself for being a fool and trying to prepare herself to hide her embarrassment from her husband.

However, when she came down she was taken aback at the sight of her husband.

He was sat on the sofa with two mugs in hand and if her assumption were correct, they each contained Horlicks.

Shelagh sat down next to him and whispered a quiet thank you and an apology.

"Don't be sorry." He told her, as he handed her a mug. A grin quickly formed on his features. "It's not your fault that you're short"

He went to run his fingers through her hair, but he had not realised that his comment had affected her.

She placed the mug on the coffee table and shuffled away from him,refusing to look at him.

"Shelagh, I love your height. I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. I thought you might see the humour,"" She mumbled incoherently, causing him to arch a brow. "What darling?"

"My father was slightly smaller than you and my mother slightly smaller than me and he hated it." Patrick sidled up next to her, effectively trapping her between his body and the arm of the couch. He gathered her in his arms, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Oh my darling, I couldn't care less about your height!" he attempted to sooth, but the damage had been done. "I am not laughing at your stature, I am laughing at the comical nature of you falling into a hole that you could not climb out of."

Shelagh was reluctant to give into his pull on her, still mad about the whole scenario. "Had you and Fred not dug a hole that size, I never would have got into that mess!" She turned to face him, a pout scrunching at her features. "Why on earth did you boys even need to dig a hole of that size!?"

Patrick saw no way of getting out of his wife's fury unscathed, he thought it best to bite the bullet and be honest. "To be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea," he shrugged his shoulders. "You know how Fred can be when he gets an idea,"

"Patrick Turner," despite her bruised shin and hurt feelings, she couldn't stay mad at him, eventually giving into his pull to curl up into his side. "Next time you invite Fred Buckle over to assist with any form of landscaping or renovation, you run the idea through me first, got it?"

Patrick could only not his agreement at his wife's stern words. He was thankful, however, to feel her body relax further into his body. She obviously wasn't entirely mad at him, he thought, as he began to drag fingers through her damp hair.

"I love you," he told her.

"Mhm," she hummed contentedly. "Let's see if you still love me after I make you fill in that stupid hole tomorrow."

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