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Post by tonilous on Jun 8, 2014 19:48:41 GMT -5
Hi, I'm tonilous and I am the author of this fic.
I tried to be as accurate as a visitor to NYC can get, but did take a few liberties with neighborhood bodegas. Um, I also have a thing for firemen and I make no apologies for that.
I hope you enjoy!
Where There's Smoke Chapter 1
Robert finished giving the front room a once over, nodding approval at Daisy. Daisy had gone through the place before her dad's arrival, making minor repairs to the door frames and patching a hole in one wall where a door knob had punctured the plaster. She wanted her dad to see that they could do this; they could have their home and be responsible, and her dad to stop worrying about them living in the Big City. Any chance Daisy had to reduce her father's stress, she took it.
Bea stood in the doorway with her pink tool kit in hand - still unused, but decorated with gold stars for positive reinforcement. Daisy had appreciated the effort, even if she couldn't tell the difference between a shim and a shimmy.
“All right. You girls-”
Daisy folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “Dad.”
“Sorry. Hey, forgive me, I'm getting old.” Robert smiled indulgently at his daughter, scratching his thinning hair under his ball cap. “All right, you grown, mature, fully capable adults. Remember to change those batteries every Day Light Savings, you hear me? Batteries are easy to come by; you two aren't.”
Bea beamed at Mr. Cutler, “Yes, sir. I even wrote it in my calendar for the next two years, Change batteries in smoke detectors.”
“Good girl. Now, Daisy?” He clapped a hand to his daughter's shoulder, blinking for a moment as if just realizing that he was reaching up to do so and had been doing so for more than four years now. “You take care, you hear me? Both of you are too pretty to get yourselves into trouble here.”
Bea preened and turned to put her tool kit in the cupboard under the wet bar that divided the kitchen from the main living area.
“And Bea? You look out for my daughter, okay?”
Daisy smiled and pulled her dad into an embrace. “Thanks, Dad.”
“No problem. Just don't forget to check in every now and then. I know you two are all grown up now, but I'm still a dad, okay?”
Bea ran at Robert and threw herself at him in a tight hug, knocking the wind out of him. “Thank you, Mr. Cutler! My parents have your number, and Monday night is family phone night, we've already decided. In case Daisy and I get any big, important jobs, that's the night we'll usually be free.”
She reached up on her toes to give Robert a kiss, who looked flummoxed at the affection. Daisy opened the front door to offer him an escape, leaning in for one last hug on their stoop before Robert headed back to Virginia.
Her dad stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turned back and said quietly, “Don't forget, Harry will be up here next Saturday with the rest of your things. Make sure, uh...” Robert looked past Daisy into the house to make sure Bea was out of earshot. “Make sure those two don't have any opportunity to fight, okay? Last time they saw each other, I had to replace two air compressors in the shop.”
Daisy laughed softly. “No problem. Bea has a meeting with one of her clients, so we timed it just right.”
Robert rolled his eyes and nodded, and he waved a final goodbye to Daisy as he walked away and hopped in his truck to make the long drive back to Virginia. Daisy stood watching until the truck turned and was gone. With the exception of some of her books, some odds and ends furniture, and her winter wardrobe, she was all moved in to her first post-graduation home. No more shipping off-season clothes back and forth due to minuscule closets, no more dormitories, efficiencies, or studio apartments with nonexistent kitchens. They had lucked out - anyone who manages to get a decent apartment in New York City lucks out - when a former cast member of Bea's got a part with a touring company and had to give up his place.
Daisy took the steps up to the door three at a time. She shut the heavy wooden door, whirled on one foot and clapped her hands together once, beaming at Bea. “Our first grown-up apartment!”
They held hands and bounced up and down, not caring how childish it looked. They both had spent four hard years at university with never-ending coursework and performances, then Daisy had a grueling but exciting three years getting her masters in costume design at Tisch, while Bea spent that time auditioning and taking any role she could land.
Finally, finally they had their dream-ish New York City apartment. It was in Brooklyn, not the Upper West Side, and one of the three bedrooms surely had been a closet in a previous life, but it was theirs. It had a kitchen that barely fit more than one person at a time, but there was a dining nook, the ceilings were high, the front room was large enough to hold an upright piano, sofa and chairs, it had an honest-to-god claw-foot tub that meant that Daisy could be fully submerged to her shoulders when used, and it was theirs.
Their apartment was in a quiet, friendly neighborhood. Trees lined the street, and some ambitious person had planted pansies in rings under each one on their side. The buildings were mostly red brick in the Federalist style, with two stories plus a large basement for storage and laundry. Each floor was a unit, and they had wide stoops at each door. Upstairs tenants had their own entrances in the back. Even better, there were clear spaces between each building, so no more headboards banging into thin plaster walls keeping them up or barely muffled arguments from fighting neighbors.
Daisy was only two transfers from the theater where she was the costume designer; it was right in the center of Broadway, walking distance to any auditions she might get. Bea could work from home; she did the books for a few small theater companies to provide steady income while auditioning for everything she could get in her spare time. Their New York City dreams awaited them.
They were both unattached, Bea and Harry having broken up a few months prior, and for good, it seemed. Daisy had dated a few guys since moving to New York after high school, but nothing long-lasting that had fed her romantic nature. She still had high hopes for being swept off her feet. There hadn't been anyone that challenged her, no one fun and thrilling and romantic. Well, she had waited this long for love; she could wait until it was right.
Her stomach rumbled. She wrapped her arms around her torso, made almost concave from the lack of food and the exhausting labor of moving.
“Let's go out to eat!” Daisy moved towards her bedroom to change out of her jeans and t-shirt when Bea grabbed the belt loops at the back of her pants.
“Are you kidding? I ran down the street to get ingredients earlier! We need to christen our new kitchen!”
Daisy paused nervously. She didn't have a problem with vegan fare philosophically; it was more nervousness at what Bea Ellis did to vegan food that stopped her in her tracks. Bea wasn't known for her culinary skills, even though she attacked the task with enthusiasm. This would be their first apartment with a full kitchen, and not just a hot plate and a microwave.
“Your parents had an induction range, and this stove top looks like it used to run on coal. Are you sure you know what you're doing?”
“Absolutely!” she beamed.
-8-
Sirens blared up the street, signaling the firetrucks' arrival.
“I cannot believe you almost burned down the kitchen, B. We've not even been in this apartment for four hours.”
Bea wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with the corner of her pink, frilled apron. “I'm sorry! I thought blackened tofu sounded like a nice alternative!”
“Whiskey flambe. You tried to make tofu a blackened whiskey flambe? Those two styles of cooking don't go together for a reason, Bea.” Daisy sighed, trying desperately for patience. “At least we know the detectors work; my dad will be happy about that.” Daisy froze in place on the front stoop, panic-stricken. “My dad! We say nothing about this to him, okay?”
Daisy shuddered, remembering the visual of flames almost exploding from the skillet where Bea was torturing some perfectly innocent tofu. At the first sign of fire, Bea had begun screaming like a tea kettle. Daisy reached past her, switched off the gas and shoved the skillet to one of the back burners. She hadn't unpacked the baking soda yet, so she couldn't do anything that wouldn't make the fire worse.
They had raced to the stoop; the klaxon-warning bells of the smoke detectors screeched too loudly for them think clearly, let alone stay inside. Daisy had almost dropped her cell phone down the subway grate out front before taking a calming breath and dialing 911. She told the very bored lady at dispatch that the kitchen stove was on fire and to please have someone hurry.
“Oh, okay then,” a voice sassed, “because I usually tell firetrucks to take their sweet time. Who are you talking to?”
Daisy reared back and looked at her phone. Before she could get herself worked up, she heard the sirens off in the distance, a few blocks away. Apparently the dispatch didn't tell them to take their sweet time. She huffed out a crisp, “Thank you,” and abruptly ended the call.
Now they stood huddled on the stoop, Daisy trying to keep her pats “there, there” and not “I want to strangle you for almost getting us killed.” The upstairs tenants milled about a few feet away, clearly upset that their Saturday night football had been interrupted. Their beer bellies, gruff faces and Michigan jerseys kept Daisy at a distance. She smiled apologetically and shrugged at them, but they were too focused on watching the game on the tiny screen of their smart phones to pay attention to the new tenants.
The sirens shut off, but the whirligig lights continued to splash their kaleidoscope glow on all of the brick walls as the truck pulled in front of the apartment. Three men dressed in heavy tan coats and black boots piled off the back and briskly walked to the front door. One of them approached Daisy, who was anxiously bouncing from foot to foot. Bea was huddled in the corner of the stoop, trying to stay out of the way, completely mortified.
“We had a call about a small kitchen fire?”
Daisy cleared her throat and tried to keep on task, but man. She never would have thought that she had a thing for firefighters, it was so cliché after all, but this particular firefighter.... Well! About as tall as Daisy was, hmm, maybe just a touch taller, with broad shoulders, a bright, open face, sensuously full lips, Don't stare at his mouth he'll think you're deranged, and a clean, regulation-hairdo crowned with the loveliest blonde hair Daisy had ever seen. It was a humid night, and Daisy could tell those tendrils over the man's forehead had fought whatever torture the owner had tried on it, and won.
Daisy blinked and shook herself out of her fantasies of running his hair with her fingers, pulling the owner in closely for a better look at those nice, rosy lips. “Oh, uh, yes. Small fire.”
The firefighter signaled to the other men at the truck, who were unloading a hose. “Oh, gosh, I don't know that you'll need all of that,” Daisy exclaimed. “We just moved in, and I don't know if we even have a fire extinguisher, come to think of it,” she finished lamely, feeling embarrassed.
The firefighter made a noncommittal grunt and gestured at one of the men who grabbed an industrial-sized extinguisher. He handed it over, and the lead firefighter signaled the others with his eyes towards the door.
“Right this way,” she led the firefighter to the door and pointed towards the back. The billowing smoke from the frying pan would have been enough to lead the way, but Daisy couldn't turn off her helpful gene, it seemed.
“Stay here until we've determined any danger, please,” the fireman said, holding his hand out to stop Daisy from entering. She noted the accent. Scottish - Irish, maybe.
Heat spread across Daisy's chest where the fireman's hand had almost touched. Every nerve in her body was thrumming with excitement. Well, duh, your new dream home is on fire. Mm hm, that's what it was. Daisy's eyes followed the firefighter's every move as he directed the other two men into position. Daisy stood in the doorway and called out, “Tofu. It was meant to be blackened, ha ha,” Daisy's forced laughed turned into coughing from the acrid smoke in the air. She stepped back and wiped at her streaming eyes. “It's Bea's first time in this kitchen, and she's not used to gas stoves, I suppose.”
Mr. Luscious-Hair Fireman bent forward to avoid most of the thick smoke billowing out of the small kitchen. “You shut the flame off; good thinking.” The fireman handed the fire extinguisher to his team member and said, “It looks like this is just smoke, not any danger of re-ignition.”
Daisy slumped against the door frame. The fireman waved her in. Daisy attempted a genial tone, saying, “Well you know what they say about there being smoke. I thought it was better to err on the side of caution.” One of the other firefighters muttered, “'Scuse me,” as he walked a large ladder in, gently resting it against the wall. He climbed up to switch off the alarm on the vaulted ceiling after opening the case and checking the batteries. Daisy spared him a glance but couldn't help but turn and follow the blonde-haired firefighter as he moved about the kitchen, directing the other man to spray foam into Bea's non-stick skillet and over the whole surface of the gas range.
Daisy glanced down at herself, glad that she at least wasn't wearing some horrible shape-obliterating sweats for the move. Bea had teased her for wearing designer jeans for hauling dusty boxes and furniture to Brooklyn-- “They're last season, Bea” -- but at least they showed off her slim yet athletic frame. The last vestiges of gawky childhood gone, with the exception of her youthful face. She knew that she would love that when she was older, or so everyone constantly said to her. The thread-bare, heathered blue t-shirt stretched nicely across her toned arms and chest. Not too skinny, not beefy. Musical theater's dancing obligations had its perks for keeping her in shape.
Mr. Possibility, who Daisy would swear looked about the same age as she was, stood in front of Daisy with his helmet tucked under one arm.
“Well, your sister -”
“Roommate,” Daisy corrected with a grin. “She's my roommate.”
The firefighter looked down to hide his smile for a moment. “Yes, well. She did a great job of achieving blackened tofu, but next time I'd recommend she order take-out. Wok-n-Roll around the corner has some great vegetarian options.”
McQueen said to be self-confident and fearless... Daisy smiled openly at him. “I'll make sure she knows, Mister..?”
“Captain Harkin.”
They shook hands, and it was all Daisy could do to not bite her lip to hide her grin when she felt the firm, strong hand in hers.
“Captain? You seem awfully young to be a captain.”
Captain Harkin narrowed his eyes for a moment before his features smoothed back into Officer Friendly mode again. “It happens.”
Daisy quickly realized she had made an error and tried to bring things back around to something more light and conversational. She stepped her weight back on one foot and crossed her arms against her chest. “Hrmph, you know, I wanted take out, but she insisted.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes as if to say that the captain would totally understand how girls could be.
Oh my god you are on eleven, turn it down to five. Hm, he is seriously cute, make it six.
Harkin smiled, nothing more than a polite reflex and not equal to the silly grin Daisy knew was plastered on her own face. The fireman pulled his walkie talkie from his belt clip and held it up to his mouth. “Roger that, Dispatch. We're secured, heading back.” He switched it off and said to Daisy, “Well, at any rate, it's good to know that your smoke detectors work, right? Make sure you change them every-”
“Day Light Savings, I won't forget! I wouldn't want to burn the place down and not give you a chance to come save me. Us. Save us, I meant. Obviously.” What is wrong with me? Daisy thought to herself. She couldn't help it, those golden strands were just begging for Daisy to run her hands through them.
The captain cleared his throat and looked at his boots for a minute. “Just make sure that you air the place out tonight, the smoke should clear soon enough.” He looked at Daisy seriously, all hint of jocularity gone. “And first thing tomorrow, buy a fire extinguisher.”
“Oh. Yes. Right. First thing. I'll do that right away,” Daisy babbled, flustered for a moment. She could have kicked herself for acting like such a giggling school girl; hadn't she gotten over that back in Fairfax? Most likely Captain Harkin had a beautiful girl waiting at home for him. Of course there wasn't a gorgeous firefighter that just happened to come to her rescue, and was presently standing in her house, just waiting to woo her.
Daisy needed to tone it way down. Besides, she could imagine Captain Hot Pants on her leisure time instead of making a fool of herself in front of said Hot Pants with all of this blatant flirting.
Pull yourself together.
“Thank you, all of you!” Daisy made a point of shaking everyone's hands, not just the captain's, as they packed up their gear to put back onto the truck.
Bea stood quickly on the front steps and shook their hands as well, tucking her hair back over one ear and smiling demurely up at one of the other firemen, now in just his break-out trousers, uniform FDNY tee and wide, red suspenders. Daisy felt her squeeze her arm, but she was too busy watching Captain Harkin swing up onto the side rail of the truck, talking to the station house on his walkie.
Daisy turned to look down at her remembering, oh right, Bea exists. She narrowed her eyes at her, then asked the captain, “If someone wanted to send cookies as a thank you, which firehouse would they go to?”
Daisy froze, wanting to pinch her arm for being so obvious.
Captain Harkin hooked his walkie onto his belt and pulled his jacket off, tossing it into the cab of the truck. Holy Mary mother of Bob, biceps. A family of four could live off those for weeks. Harkin swung back out of the truck and affixed his helmet. “Engine Company 204.”
The truck started pulling away. The captain looked right at Daisy with a friendly grin on his face and called out, “And the guys really like oatmeal raisin.”
One of the other firefighters yelled out, the sound barely drifting down the block, “Hey, no we don't!”
Daisy slumped to the concrete stoop, pulling Bea down next to her. “I don't know whether to kill you or hug you.”
“Save it. We need to get supplies, because you want to make sure to deliver those cookies before he's off shift tomorrow.”
She looked over at her. Bea waggled her eyebrows and said, “Hey, Damian was pretty cute, too.”
Daisy blinked for a moment. “Damian?”
Bea rolled her eyes. “You know, one of the other guys that was here? Good lord, you have it bad. It's about time,” she chided, pulling Daisy to her feet. “Come on, Juliet, let's get all of the windows open, or we'll never get the smell of charred soy out of this place.”
Daisy stretched her arms over head to drive out some of the adrenaline-induced tension in her shoulders. “You have to clean the kitchen. And there is no way I'm letting you bake anything after what you did tonight. Also, we will be using actual butter in those cookies, not that weird hemp seed garbage you keep trying to push on me. They'll think we're drugging them.”
Bea stood in the kitchen, her hands on her hips and a sour expression on her face as she looked at the huge mess waiting for her. There was a powdery residue all over the stove top and smoke stains on the wall.
“Serves you right, Bea Ellis. Flambe, indeed.”
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Post by tonilous on Jun 9, 2014 14:00:41 GMT -5
Bea insisted on packing the cookies – two dozen oatmeal raisin with a dozen white chocolate macadamia nut cookies for variety – into a handled basket lined with a gingham tea towel. Bea had chattered for an hour after the firemen had left the night before, rambling about how kind and heroic Damian was. She had to describe him three times before Daisy decided to just pretend she knew who she was talking about.
She only had eyes for one person last night, and she blushed thinking of how obvious she'd been, practically throwing herself at the fireman. Daisy “cool and detached” Cutler had disappeared with a puff of smoke, literally. Well, she'd leave further acts of embarrassment to Bea.
Bea pulled her red shrug over her black- and white-striped sleeveless top and checked the basket one last time.
“You're going to look like a deranged Red Riding Hood skipping into the station house with that, B.”
“Oh, I am not going to look like anything. We are going to look like grateful citizens, thanking the unsung heroes of New York City.”
Daisy snorted and spun around on the bar stool to continue talking to Bea as she primped in the bathroom mirror. “You just want that fireman that checked you over for,” she made finger quotes in the air, “'possible smoke inhalation' to see your amazing house-keeping skills.”
Bea leaned her head out of the doorway and affixed Daisy with a droll expression. “Do you want me to go there, Daisy? Because I will so go there.” She jutted her hip out and pointed her hairbrush at Daisy's face. “You said you wanted him to come back and save you.”
Daisy sputtered, “I did not! I just meant...oh, god!” She covered her face with both hands with a groan. “Did I? I don't know what has gotten into me, he just... I don't have a damsel in distress thing, I don't. It's just...hair! And those pants. And that smile, please tell me you noticed that smile?”
Bea switched off the bathroom light, and crossed the small space to give Daisy a tight hug. “He was really cute, and seemed nice. I don't blame you.”
Daisy scrubbed her face with both hands, groaning. “I can't show up, I just can't. I'm going to see his beautiful, perky girlfriend bounce in, and they'll kiss in front of me, and he'll probably propose right then and there, and it will just be further proof that I have a terrible habit of being attracted to guys that I can't have.”
Joe, Liam, the handsome and alluring Spanish boy from her sophomore year at NYU, the incredibly sexy young man from Wyoming with a drawl that was thick like honey, and now a fireman. Football jocks, a foreigner with a vintage motorcycle, a cowboy and now a fireman. Throw in a Native American and a cop and she'd collect the whole Village People set.
Bea slapped at her knee lightly. “Nope, no more of that. It's been too long since you even showed interest in anyone since Thomas. You just need to put yourself out there more. Don't stop now when you're just building momentum!”
Thomas had been her first real boyfriend, if dating for five months counted as a real relationship. Thomas had been the manager of Daisy's favorite coffee shop by the Tisch campus, and had pursued Daisy for several weeks before she finally agreed to go on a date. It had been exhilarating at first; someone wanted her, someone that was smart and funny and kind. But after a few months of hearing about Thomas' family and never meeting them, Thomas finally admitted that he wasn't ready to introduce Daisy to his family. And had no notion of doing so anytime soon.
Daisy wasn't willing to be someone's secret. She needed someone that was proud of who they were, and more importantly, proud of the person they were involved with. She had wished Thomas well, but knew she had to move on. A year had passed and there had only been casual flirtations, one heady night of dancing at a club with a beautiful stranger that went nowhere, and a whole lot of not dating anyone special.
Daisy had the sinking feeling that she was setting herself up again for failure. Bea pulled her out of her chair, grabbed the basket and her house keys, and led Daisy to the door. “I seriously doubt he has a beautiful perky girlfriend.”
“What on earth makes you say that?”
Bea replied with a cheeky grin, “Because he clearly told you what cookies he likes.”
She had a point. Daisy double checked her hair in the mirror by the front door before being dragged onto the street.
-8-
It was a beautiful, bright sunny day in the city. The humidity from the night before had been blown away by a nice breeze, which had the added benefit of clearing out the stale air that settled into the city every June and refused to leave until the fall. They walked the three and a half blocks to the fire station, Bea chattering endlessly as Daisy became more and more sure that this was a terrible idea.
Daisy Cutler did not chase men. She had learned that lesson the hard way in high school and had become a straight A student in not chasing males. She told herself that she was acting this way, obvious and flirty, because of her excitement over the move and last night's potential for third degree burns. She was rusty, she was a little lonely, of course she was acting ridiculous. That's all it was. She was just going to the station to tell them thank you, and that would be it. It was the decent thing to do. It wouldn't even matter if that certain someone was there or not. Daisy ducked to check her reflection in a window, making sure her clothes still looked fresh and her hair was still in place. Not that it would matter. Much.
They rounded the final corner and stood in front of the huge garage doors that signaled Engine Company 204/Ladder Company 18's station. Two firemen in unfortunate polyester-blend navy shorts and regulation-blue short-sleeved dress shirts were hosing off the tires of one of the company's firetrucks.
“Excuse me!” Bea chirped. “We wanted to thank the gallant firemen that came to our rescue last night with some delicious home-baked goods.”
One of the men was considerably older than the other with a thick silver mustache, grey hair at his temples and a deeply lined face. He narrowed his eyes at Bea. “Chocolate chip? Or plain sugar?”
She looked worried. “N-no, oatmeal raisin.”
The man snorted and clapped a hand on Daisy's shoulder, almost knocking her over. He looked at Daisy, motioning with his head towards the inside of the garage, saying, “The captain should be inside; stay to the left for the rec room.”
Bea hissed at Daisy as they walked into the expansive garage, “See? I told you there was no perky girlfriend!”
“Hmm. Perky boyfriend, then. There is no way this is going-- Oh, hello!”
Daisy pulled up short as one of the firemen from last night, Damian, by the looks of Bea's massive grin, walked over to them.
Bea beamed up at him. “We baked you cookies.”
Damian grinned back, and now that Daisy had no other distractions, she could see that Damian was handsome, too. Tall, very lean but ropey with muscle, his brown hair cut close as was popular at the time, twinkling blue eyes, and a beautiful smile. A smile that was all for one Miss Bea Ellis, it looked like.
“Did you, now?”
Bea leaned in conspiratorially and said, “I know your captain said oatmeal raisin, but I couldn't help myself. I put in some white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, too. I hope that was okay?”
Damian laughed a little and replied, “As long as you let me have them all, and we keep it our little secret, that's fine by me.”
He nodded a hello towards Daisy, who stood there feeling foolish and in the way. Damian motioned for them to follow him back to the rec room. Bea quickly sidled up to him, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow. “I know we just had a silly little kitchen mishap, but honestly, what you do, what you choose to do every single day, it's very admirable.”
Daisy kept a few paces behind as they walked and rolled her eyes freely. Talk about laying it on thick. She was glad Bea was finally moving on from the heartbreak that her relationship with her step-brother Harry had become, she just didn't want to be in such close proximity to it. She let herself fall behind to give them a little privacy as she picked her way around the gleaming fire engines. She ended up in a room with a huge kitchen at one end, a long dining table in the middle and sofas and a pool table at the other end.
Bea was artfully arranging the cookies on a platter that Damian had pulled out of the kitchen. Daisy noticed that about half of the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies were missing and Damian was happily chewing on one of them. It looked like most of the firemen were out working on the engines, or just elsewhere. No sign of Captain Cutie anywhere.
Daisy leaned over and whispered to Bea, a smile plastered to her face, “Okay! This is incredibly awkward. I'm just going to go; you can play squeeze the bicep on the fireman in peace.”
Damian swallowed half a cookie whole and motioned behind him. “The probie from last night is in class, and the captain is out like a light. He's had three straight 24-hour shifts, so we try and catch some sleep any chance there's some down time. I'll make sure they know you came by with these.”
Daisy groaned internally. She was nervous for nothing, it seemed. She certainly wasn't going to come back when Harkin was awake just so Daisy could see his handsome arms and torso and face and hair and the way he filled out those break-away pants, oh my god, they're called that because they break-away. Daisy fought a blush she knew was creeping up her neck and smiled at Damian.
“Oh, no big deal. Just, we felt bad for dragging you out for something so minor. Um, Bea, I had promised the good captain that I would get a fire extinguisher today, so how about I get started on that very important task while you make sure that those cookies are to the nice man's satisfaction?”
Damian gave her a grateful smile while reaching for another cookie. Bea saw before Damian did the piece of paper with Bea's cell phone written on it and a gold star in the upper corner that had she had secreted away under the cookies. She bit back a snort of laughter and waggled her fingers in a toodle-loo at Bea. She turned to walk back through the door to the garage and stopped in her tracks.
“Cookies?”
Sleep-rumpled hair. Sleepy eyes framed with thick lashes. A well-worn FDNY emblazoned t-shirt stretched across a very nicely muscled chest. Daisy couldn't speak for a moment, then shook herself when the captain yawned hugely, stretching overhead so that his shirt rode up enough to give Daisy a glimpse of a taut abdomen and a dusting of hair that trailed down to-
“Cookies! Yes! We brought them. Some. The cookies. We made cookies and we brought them but I have to go right now,” Daisy stammered knowing that she was blushing to her roots, “because I made a promise and I keep my word. So.”
Daisy snapped her mouth shut, sent a frenzied look Bea's way, and tried to step around this man that was turning Daisy from her normal, composed and self-assured nature into a blithering idiot. She tried to keep her head up and the look of horror off her face as she crossed the threshold into the echoing garage when a voice stopped her for a moment.
“Oatmeal raisin! Thank you... Oh, I didn't catch your name.”
Daisy huffed out a breath, closed her eyes for the briefest moments of composure, turned and smiled at the captain with what she hoped looked calm, cool, and utterly available. “Daisy.”
The captain held up a finger as he swallowed a huge bite of a cookie; Daisy watched the muscles in his throat work, echoing the captain's swallow.
“I'm Keith. It's very nice to meet you, Daisy.”
Daisy gave the briefest of nods and replied softly, “Likewise.” She backed into the garage, pointing over her shoulder and said, “But I have this thing, so...”
Keith called out, “Thank you for the cookies! They are delicious.” Keith had the audacity to close his eyes and moan out the last word for emphasis.
Anyone would moan over those, I put freshly grated cinnamon in the batter, but my God does he have to look like that when he eats? I wonder what he looks like when he--Daisy stumbled into the fender on one of the big ladder trucks and stammered, “No problem! Bake them all the time. It's like a weird compulsion, my constant baking. I'm going to stop talking now.”
Face aflame, she hot-footed it out of the garage. Abort! Abortabortabort! You just told him you have weird compulsions. Now he's going to think you're some kind of baking fetishist. Real smooth, Grace under fire. Passing through the giant garage doors to the city street, she continued her mental tirade at herself under her breath. The older man supervising the truck-washing nonchalantly called out, “He likes banana bread, too.”
Daisy smiled at him, confused, embarrassed, and wondering if the market on the corner sold over-ripe bananas along with fire extinguishers.
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Jun 9, 2014 14:07:45 GMT -5
Haha poor Daisy.... How awkward.
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Post by barbt on Jun 9, 2014 18:37:37 GMT -5
OH, my, now there's an interesting thought...CT as firemen. As if they weren't hot enough already (badda bing!) And Keith would wake up for cookies. Just as a hint, consensus seems to be that Damian's favorite cookies are white chocolate macadamia nut - which I happen to agree with.
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Post by tonilous on Jun 9, 2014 19:57:41 GMT -5
barbt oh thank you so much for that, i edited it in. Those happen to be my favorite cookies, too. Thanks for reviewing and viewing. I'm glad you liked it!
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Post by tonilous on Jun 10, 2014 12:52:25 GMT -5
Hi!
I just wanted to let you know that I will not be updating this story until later tomorrow. But be warned - the next chapter is really long. Incredibly long. I have a great view on where I want this story to go so I will be creating longer installments.
I hope you like it!
“And he sings, Daisy! He has been since he was a child, too. I can just tell that his lovely bass-baritone would blend beautifully in the background of my powerful yet evocative soprano.”
“Mm,” Daisy hummed, flipping the pages of a new copy of Italian Elle, one of the benefits of living in the greatest city in the world. Bea had talked non-stop about Damian for over an hour since floating back to their apartment. Thank goodness she had the double issue.
Bea paused her counter wiping to say cagily, “He sings with Keith. Not that you're interested.”
Daisy, startled to the point of almost tearing a page in the magazine, breathlessly asked, “He sings?”
“Mm, yourself. Lead soloist at the Brooklyn New School, according to Damian.”
Daisy slumped back into the sofa. “There's no way this is real. He's gorgeous, he's kind, he devotes his life to helping people, he's single-- ” She looked to Bea to make sure, sighing when she saw her enthusiastic nod. “--and now you're telling me he sings. He has to be a secret serial killer. Or has an unholy love of polka. One person cannot have all of those charms without something wrong with them.” A dawning look of horror crossed her face. “What if he only wears Ed Hardy clothes when he's off duty? I'm a woman that can appreciate sequins, but not that way.”
Bea rolled her eyes. “I'm sure that if he did you could get him to see the Tom Ford light.”
Daisy chewed at her thumb, considering the possibilities as Bea prattled on, “...so he invited me to join him and the other off-duty firemen at their mid-week pub night.”
“That's nice.”
Bea threw her cleaning rag on the counter and hopped onto the sofa, shoving Daisy in the chest. “Dummy, you're coming, too.”
“No, no, no, I made a complete fool of myself today. Clearly I can't be trusted to be in control of all of my faculties when...that man is nearby.”
Bea narrowed her eyes at Daisy, reminding her of every time they were pitted against each other in a diva-off back in high school. She poked the center of Daisy's chest, saying curtly, “We are going to the pub night, we are not going to have any more pity parties, and we are going to find boys that make us happy that also happen to live where we live, got it?”
Eyes wide and on the verge of trembling, Daisy nodded. Bea had her scary moments. “Got it.”
She sank back on her heels, deflated. Daisy reached over to hold her hand in both of hers. She thought that this new interest meant she had completely gotten over Harry, but eight years was a long time to be in a relationship, even with as tumultuous and on-again, off-again as theirs had been.
There were two years back at the end of college where Bea and Harry hadn't spoken to each other at all. They both had talked about moving on before, but this time it seemed truly final. No more hopes for someone changing their dreams to suit them, not with Harry really making a life for himself in Virginia as Bea continued her path to stardom in New York.
“I'm sorry it didn't work out, B. I really am. But you know it's for the best; you know it.”
Bea looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times, a little trick Daisy knew she had to keep her tears from falling. “I know, he was my first love, and he was a good one to have. But you're right. It's better this way. Too many breakups over the years, too many heartaches.” She let out a shaky sigh and looked at their joined hands. “He's really happy there, isn't he?”
Daisy pulled her in for a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles in her back. “He is. He's found something he's really good at, and it's a huge help for my dad. You know they're opening a second shop?” Bea sighed, burying her face in the front of her shirt as she continued. “My dad's calling it Cutler's & Son.” Daisy hummed with pleasure, giving her a squeeze. “I think it's the first time Harry has been proud of himself since high school. He is happy you're here, he always believed you'd make it.”
She let out a tiny sob, and Daisy tightened her arms. “I thought you said no pity parties, Miss Ellis?”
Bea mumbled into her collar, “Just a going away party for them, then, okay?”
Daisy laughed and held her best friend tight. “Hey.” She kissed her cheek and pushed her back enough so that she could look her in the eyes. “It's been moving in this direction for a long time. You haven't even lived in the same time zone for well over seven years now.”
Bea nodded, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her light sweater. “I know, we held on with the long-distance part, but he never wanted this, New York. It's just...final now.”
“Yes, it is, so there's no reason to not move forward, right? That's what you've been telling me for the past year. To put myself out there more? And Miss Ellis, you sure did a good job of that today. He's pretty hot.”
Bea laughed--her joyous, infectious laugh that she loved. “He really is, isn't he?”
Daisy cocked an eyebrow at her and teased, “I mean, not cute enough to be a captain, but still.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon putting their house in order, giddy with the excitement the future held for them, and happy to be sharing it with each other.
-8-
“How do I look?” Bea twirled for Daisy to show off the lovely sundress that she'd helped pick out at a sample sale recently.
“Fabulous. That cut of dress is absolutely flattering and makes you look elegantly enticing. You have no idea how glad I am that you finally gave up your horrid collection of animal sweaters.”
“They might come back!”
“Sweetie, they never came in the first place.” They rounded the corner and heard loud rock music spilling out of a sub-level bar, a group of boisterous men laughing and jostling one another near the entrance. Daisy had a mild moment of sheer panic and tugged Bea back to the safety of the previous block.
“Oh my god, what are we doing; what am I doing? No one asked me to come; I'm going to look like some creepy cruiser fireman stalker.”
“Oh, would you calm down!” Bea smoothed the front of Daisy's fitted, red dress and waggled her eyebrows at her after giving her arms a squeeze. “Talk about enticing, D. Now, relax. Damian said for me to bring a friend, so I am.” She licked her thumb and moved to wipe something off Daisy's cheek when she reared back and caught her hand before she could touch her. “That's disgusting, Bea.”
Bea rolled her eyes and fumbled in her coordinating clutch. “I'm pretty sure Damian meant you as the friend to bring along, because he told me about tonight while standing behind Keith and squeezing his shoulders. Pointedly.”
Daisy took the mirrored compact Bea offered and checked her face for any smudges. Nothing. Hair in place, stylish yet effortless outfit that said, “I just fall out of bed looking this good, I don't actually have to work at it,” even though she spent two hours getting everything just right.
Bea put the compact back in her purse and smoothed her hair. “And if all else fails, we'll just say you're my chaperone.”
Before flashing ID to gain entrance, Daisy noticed the name of the bar: Smokey's. “Really, Bea? This is where we are? In a bad pun?”
“I think it's cute!”
“Well, it's better than the time you took your visiting parents and me to Rod's Manhole when we turned twenty-one. I still will never forgive you for that.”
Bea laughed and pulled her inside.
-8-
Daisy settled onto a bar stool in the back of the room watching the chummy crowd mingle and unwind. It was clearly a firefighters' bar: there were old plaques denoting heroic deeds, black and white photographs of former crews hanging on every wall, and a huge red banner across the back of the bar that read “9/11: NEVER FORGET” with a sobering list of the men and women who put others first on that tragic day. But for all the somber memories the place held, it was also a popular place to relax after a hard shift, by the look of the genial and friendly crowd.
Bea was currently deep into a game of darts with Damian and a few crew mates from the station house. One of the firefighters was a woman named Sonja, and she and Bea hit it off quickly. Captain Harkin was nowhere to be seen. Of course.
Daisy wryly looked into her high ball of tonic over ice with a twist of lime. It just figured that this wouldn't work out. Once again she tried to come up with a way of gracefully slipping out, now that she knew that she didn't have to worry about leaving Bea with a pack of men in a bar. Damian had been genteel and attentive in a charming, old school way, and his crew mates had so far proven to be upstanding, considerate men as well. Daisy was glad for Bea, as she knew intimately how many nights over the past few months that her best friend cried herself to sleep.
Daisy decided it was time to go and tossed back her drink when someone sat next to her. She looked over the rim of her glass and swallowed noisily. Another handsome man took the stool, but it wasn't the one Daisy had been looking for all evening. Instead, he was tall with short, thick, brown hair that was spiked, olive skin, and a bland expression on his face. Daisy briefly noticed that he was dressed in some chic trousers and a silk t-shirt. The man took a beer from the bartender and motioned towards Daisy's glass. “And another one for...?”
“Uh, Daisy. And no thanks, though I appreciate the offer. I was just heading out.”
“Emmet,” he nodded. “And you can't leave yet; you'll miss karaoke. Damian told me your friend was a singer?”
“Bea? Oh, yes, but be careful. She'll take over the mic all night if you let her.”
Emmet laughed as he took a long pull from his beer. He gestured with his beer towards Bea's outfit. “I don't mean to make this sound weird, but is that a McCartney?”
Startled, Daisy almost missed the bartender's hands as she took a fresh glass being offered. “Y-yes, it is! Wait. Are you a fireman, too? Or here with someone...” She drifted off leaving the opportunity for Emmet to mention a significant other already in the room.
“I'm a firefighter, yes, but my fiance is the buyer for Behaviour, and she insists on dressing me when I'm not in uniform.”
Daisy's jaw dropped. She grabbed Emmet's forearm, “She is not! I love that shop! And she did a fantastic job, I might add.”
They dove into a chummy conversation about the fiance's current buying trip in Amsterdam, Daisy becoming glassy eyed at all of the designer names that Emmet rattled off with ease. Emmet in turn asked Daisy about Bea, how long they had known each other, how long Bea had been in the city, and other quasi-personal questions, obviously digging for his friend Damian.
Daisy said earnestly, “But really, I don't think she's ready for anything serious. I know she wants to have fun with someone, but if he's looking for something long-term...”
Emmet leaned back on his elbows against the bar, watching Damian and Bea laughing and flirting on the other side of the pub. “I think he's just excited to find someone that isn't chasing the uniform. We get that a lot, you know,” he said, making a point of looking at Daisy before pulling out his cellphone, vibrating with a new text message.
Daisy took the break to fight back a blush; she affected what she hoped sounded airy and blase as she replied, “Oh, I'm sure the whole 'hero rescues the damsel in distress' thing brings out the crazies.” Daisy sipped at her drink, waiting for Emmet to finish typing a response and continued, “But then, one has to consider the sobering reality of the danger in what you all do, not to mention the insane schedules you keep.”
Daisy drifted off into thought. Three straight 24-hour shifts? When would someone ever have time for a social life with that sort of schedule? And really, these guys put their lives on the line, that is, when not distracted by flaming tofu and jittery, unabashedly piqued me.
Emmet watched her closely, “Oh, it's not always insane. Some people take on more than they need to, simply because the job has become their life.” Emmet pulled his vibrating phone back out, giving Daisy a chance to lose herself in thought as Emmet typed what seemed to be a thesis into his phone.
“What about you, Daisy? What do you do?”
“Hmm? Oh, I'm a costume designer for CSC and freelance for different theater companies between shows. When someone with my, ahem, unique vocal talents is sought after, I perform.”
Emmet smiled hugely at her. “You sing, too, huh? Oh, you're definitely sticking around for karaoke, then.”
Daisy looked about the room, panic stricken. Older men with thick mustaches, youngish guys that looked like they listened to nothing but hard rock, and a few older men from her father's generation filled the room. Some of them had their girlfriends or wives, but they fit the same pattern as their men. They didn't seem the type that would enjoy a woman in her twenties belting out the hits from Gypsy. She loved singing, she had a fantastic range, but still. She knew she had a unique voice; she got tired of people always pointing that out to her, as if she wasn't aware.
Emmet followed her gaze and laughed, “Don't be so judgmental. I think you're in for a surprise.”
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Jun 10, 2014 16:48:36 GMT -5
Ooooo this is getting exciting singing!
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Post by tonilous on Jun 11, 2014 2:17:24 GMT -5
Hi, just a warning - this update is a bit long. :) However, chapters following this will be split in half so it would be an easier read.
I figured I'd update as a sort of tribute to Keith's 28th!
Enjoy! This was a blast to write.
Where There's Smoke Chapter 2
Daisy was finally convinced to add a splash of vodka to her club soda once the karaoke portion of the night had begun in earnest. Bea had already sung no less than three duets, two of them with Damian, and Daisy had to admit that she had been right. Their voices harmonized beautifully. Two of the older firefighters were currently working their way through “Friends in Low Places,” confirming Daisy's fear that she was horribly out of her element.
A patron standing behind her got a little carried away on the line, “think I'll slip on down to OH-asis!” and bumped into Daisy, who spilled her drink on the counter. Daisy, eyebrow cocked, demurred to Emmet as the bartender mopped up the mess, “I believe you said something about me being surprised?”
The energetic patron turned to Daisy, clapped her on the shoulder and hollered over the crowd, “Sorry, buddy, my bad!”
Daisy nodded a forced smile at him and took the fresh drink the bartender set in front of her on a new cocktail napkin. The song wrapped up to huge applause, and the much calmer piano intro to “Crazy” began. Bea's new friend Sonja was a decent alto, it seemed. She sang the Patsy Cline song into the microphone passionately, her eyes closed and her body swaying with the microphone stand. O...kay, then. Someone's had a bad breakup, it seems.
The crowd settled back down as she sang, giving Daisy an opportunity to ask a few questions of her own. “So I noticed that your captain--” She attempted to look confused as if she was searching her memory. “What's his name?”
Emmet sucked his teeth and clearly enunciated, “Keith. Harkin.”
Daisy waved her hand flippantly, “Oh, right. Anyway, I noticed that he's pretty young, but he's the captain? That seems unusual--” She held one hand up to the side of her mouth to say in a fake conspiratorial manner. “ --or are there politics involved that I don't know about?” She smiled cheerily, the corners faltering as she realized that Emmet was taking his time answering. “I'm...sorry. I don't mean to pry; just making conversation, that's all.”
“No,” Emmet said, polishing off his beer, “it's a reasonable question. He is pretty young for the job at 27. Before 9/11, that would have been unheard of, but the department lost a lot of its seasoned leaders. It's still not too common, not with an established station like our house.” Emmet scowled at his phone. Daisy worried that he was fighting with his girlfriend, the one that might be able to help Daisy get an employee's discount on a pair of Louis Vuitton shoes. Might.
Emmet rolled his eyes and snapped the mute slide on his phone. He glanced at the door and sighed, “It's too bad he doesn't usually come to these things; you could ask him yourself.”
Daisy's heart sank. It really was a lost cause, tonight. Well, she made a new friend, one with a fiance that bought clothes at her favorite Manhattan boutique, so she decided to look on the bright side of things. Daisy toyed with the napkin under her drink. “Oh, it's not a big deal, if it's a sensitive subject. Interesting that your leader doesn't come relax with his troops, though.”
She may as well see if she could get any information possible. It clearly wasn't going to happen, any...well, anything with Keith, so Daisy figured she might as well flesh out the man for her romantic fantasies where they drove off into the sunset together to live in Paris to eat baguettes and drink wine and be fabulous for the rest of their lives.
Emmet continued looking out on the crowd. “He's a serious guy these days. If he's not working, he's sleeping. If he's not sleeping, he's at the station working. Not the healthiest life, but it's what his has been for a while, now.” Emmet pushed off from the bar to high-five a crew-mate walking past them to the bathroom. “He definitely could use some fun. He's not done anything social since his father-”
Emmet was cut off by a loud cheer from the crowd. Emmet smiled at Daisy, saying, “Excuse me,” and made his way through the crowd to the entrance.
Since his father, whaaaaat? Daisy was sure that she would never get to the bottom of – oh, he had the nicest bottom, too, firemen should wear those pants everywhere – the mystery that was Keith Harkin. She saw Bea back on stage typing her song choice into the machine. Daisy groaned, but hey, she warned Emmet, so she could wash her hands of any fallout from her roommate turning the evening into a one woman musical. Daisy morosely stared into her glass, swirling it around and wondering if it would be rude to just leave without saying goodbye to Emmet.
Where was Emmet, anyway? The crowd was pushing together towards the door, still, whistling and cheering someone. Daisy decided to wait a few minutes until the melee died down and beg off for the rest of the night. She brought her glass to her mouth when she sensed someone taking Emmet's seat.
“Hey, Emmet, I'm going to head-”
It wasn't Emmet; it was Keith. He turned towards Daisy and smiled. “Hey! Daisy, right? Braved the crowd, huh? They can get kind of wild at these things. I'll have an Abita long-neck?” he asked the bartender.
Daisy's heart fluttered somewhere near her throat and she knew she had a huge grin on her face. She cleared her throat and did her best to control her features. Keith was out of uniform, and if Daisy had thought the uniform was the right look for him, she had clearly not thought of other options. Tan, light-weight trousers that fit snugly and an olive tee that looked like Marc Jacobs, to Daisy's trained eye. She sent up a quiet prayer of thanks to Marc Jacobs for making thin, snug-fitting clothes for handsome men across the globe.
“Oh, hello! Emmet was just mentioning that you don't normally come to these get-togethers.”
“Asking around about me, huh?” Keith grinned, causing Daisy's heart to go into minor palpitations.
“No, um, it just came up. Naturally. In the conversation. A conversation about clothes. Er, we were talking about how his fiance buys clothes from my favorite designer and...” she trailed off lamely.
“Emily's a sweet girl.” He took the opened beer from the bartender. “Thanks. And this led to me, how exactly?”
Oh, he was having way too much fun with this, Daisy thought, which was quickly followed on its heels with the realization that it meant Keith was flirting. With her. Oh was he now? Daisy sat back, getting herself back under control somewhat, and coolly said, “Emmet just likes talking about you, I suppose.”
Keith chuckled and took a sip from his beer. “Wait. Did I hear you say that you were heading out? But I just got here.”
Well, well, well. Daisy was just about to tell him that she was going to head over to Bea, or some other excuse to make it seem like she wasn't just staying for Captain Tight Pants, when Bea started belting out the chorus of her song.
“It's-uh raining men!”
Daisy wanted to die. Bea even tried to make the lightning strike sounds “pchoo!” pointing finger guns at different men in the crowd. Oh god, we've progressed to finger guns. I need to cut her off before she passionately sings 'What Are You Doing For The Rest Of My Life' directly to Damian and embarrasses herself, and more importantly me, even more.
Daisy's eyes were about to pop out of her head as she watched her friend bounce all over the stage with wild abandon. “I...should...stop her from...doing all of that.”
“Aw, relax, she's just having fun. The guys haven't even started on the 80s game yet, by the look of things.”
Daisy hummed and held her drink to her mouth, trying to catch a moment to wrap her head around how this evening was turning out. Bea finished the song on a long note, one arm thrown up in the air, her eyes closed triumphantly. Daisy couldn't help but laugh; it really was good to see her back in her element.
The music turned off, and a handful of guys behind Keith shouted, “Toast! Toast!” and some of the men started grabbing at him, shoving him to the center of the room as Daisy melted back against the bar, dazed by the surge in energy and turn of events.
Keith laughed and held his beer up in assent. Daisy heard someone whistle sharply to make the crowd come to attention. It was the older man that mentioned banana bread. He grabbed Keith by the elbow and whispered something into his ear.
Daisy noticed that Keith's face became serious, nodding at whatever the older man was saying. Keith's shoulder got a squeeze, and the older man seemed to be nodding encouragingly to him so he would speak.
Keith cleared his throat; he had complete command of the room, Daisy especially.
“Now, I know I've missed a few of these,” Keith paused to let some of the guys rib him for the exaggeration, “but I haven't forgotten our traditions.”
Everyone that was sitting stood up, and everyone standing that was wearing a hat took them off. Daisy looked around at everyone and delicately slipped off her chair so as to not be out of place. Even the bartenders were still.
Keith took his time before speaking. He looked around the room and finally said, “We're not all here tonight. We're missing brothers, sisters, friends...family. There are times it hurts.” Keith paused to smile at one of the younger firemen next to him. “And then there are times where we can't stop laughing, like remembering Jerry Bukowski jumping into his boots filled with... what did you put in them, Bill, gumbo?'
A middle aged man laughed and said, “That leftover turkey chili garbage from Tony's night in the galley,” and everyone in the room laughed.
Keith smiled softly and held his beer high. “We carry on, because the work is never done. We honor them by doing our best, by always trying to do better.” Keith paused for a moment, looking down at his shoes. It looked like he was trying to keep his face under control. “And I honor you for being the best station in all of New York.”
The men cheered for that. Keith's face became serious again, and he looked over at Daisy for a brief moment, sending a chill down her spine. His eyes swept the crowd again as he continued. “Never forget: all men are created equal.” Keith broke into a smile. “And a lucky few become firefighters.”
All of the crew shouted in unison, “Hoo-rah!” and took a drink. Someone in the crowd shouted, “We find 'em hot and leave 'em wet!” earning him some hoots and whistles.
Daisy's head was spinning. It was like she had stepped into an action hero's comic. Her job -- her whole life -- seemed so small and ridiculous in comparison. What on earth was she doing here, trying to chat up Clark freaking Kent? She felt a tug on her elbow, turning to find Bea glowing from the moment and a few cocktails.
“Daisy, that was amazing. You have to date him, you just have to. If you don't, I will.”
Daisy slumped on the bar, resting her face on her hand and feeling utterly dejected. “B, what am I doing here? I make crazy stage costumes and sing to, well, no one currently because I haven't gotten any auditions this season. These men,” she said, waving her hand towards the crowd, “are actual grownups. Last week they probably saved an entire orphanage filled with terminally ill children and special needs kittens from certain death, while I was standing in line for the latest issue of Japanese Vogue.”
“Oh, but they have the best hair advice!”
“Not helping. Oh, and the most grown up of them all happens to be my age. Just...I feel foolish and about three feet tall.”
Bea copied Daisy's pout and rubbed her arm briskly. “Oh, honey, we can't all be heroes, or how would they look so amazing in comparison? Speaking of amazing, how amazing did Damian and I sound...”
She was off and running her mouth, and Daisy was well-versed in letting her talk herself out. She nodded and “uh huh'd” in the right places, but she couldn't stop thinking about how serious Keith seemed to be. And how silly she felt. It was obvious why Daisy was intrigued with Keith: he was handsome, composed, heroic and his men clearly adored him. What on earth did Daisy have to offer a man like that? Well, she could get him half price tickets to sold-out Broadway shows, and that was no small fete in the city. But it certainly didn't compare in Daisy's eyes.
Karaoke was starting back up, and it was as Keith had hinted: all 80s. Daisy leaned over and spoke directly in Bea's ear so she would hear her over the din, “I'm going to go; are you going to be okay?”
She grabbed Daisy's arms. “You can't leave yet, we've only been here for a few hours! The night is young! The drinks are half-price! We haven't sung anything from Wicked!”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Somehow I think this isn't the right audience for that.”
The raucous intro to “Feel Like A Woman” poured out of the loudspeakers, and one of the burlier men with what looked like an actual lemur growing on his upper lip took the mic and started shaking his hips left and right as the audience whooped and cheered.
Daisy stared open-mouthed.
“You were saying?” Bea teased, taking a sip from her straw, her face the picture of innocence. Damian slipped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze and making her giggle.
“Hey!” Damian held his fist out for a bump, Daisy looked at it for a moment and cautiously stuck her hand out to knock knuckles, reminding herself that it was boy talk for “nice to see you.”
“Bea tells me you've got a set of pipes, too. When are we going to see you up there?”
With a huge and sarcastic smile, Daisy retorted, “When heck freezes over! There is no way I'm singing tonight.”
Damian rolled his eyes and wedged himself between Daisy and Bea. “Come on, it's fun. There's still time to put your name on the roster.”
Daisy was confused.
Damian laughed. “You have to put your name in the hat to sing, and the order can't be changed. And we have a rule: whoever is up to sing picks the next song to be sung.”
“Because that sounds better,” Daisy scoffed. “Knowing my luck I'd get ‘Margaritaville, ‘or something equally horrifying. What on earth is as horrifying as ‘Margaritaville?’”
Bea and Damian spoke over each other in rapid fire, “‘Mandy.’” “‘Paradise City.’” They looked at each other and started laughing, and continued. “‘Macarena.’” “‘Jump!’”
Okay, you two,” Daisy laughed, “clearly you each have met your match. And yes, I'd say those... were...” Daisy trailed off because a great song was playing, and a great voice was singing it. Duran Duran's “Rio” pumped through the speakers, and Keith was positively rocking out on stage, much to the crowd's and Daisy's delight.
Oh my god, he really can sing. Daisy had a brief flash of a future that featured a permanent duet partner. They could be like Captain and Tenille. We’d have to fight over the captain’s hat...
Bea beamed at Daisy, bouncing up and down a little bit. “Oh my gosh, he's totally singing this to you, I just know it!”
“Easy, tiger, I think we're putting the cart before the very handsome and talented horse, ohhh, ankles. Look at his lovely ankles.”
Daisy was transfixed, she couldn't help herself. Keith was working the crowd, moving all over the stage, prowling all over the stage. Captain Serious stayed at the station, apparently, and Mister Flirtatious Funtime had come out to play. Daisy wasn't about to complain, but she would be lying if she didn't admit to herself that she was curious as to what brought about the change.
There were older guys with full beards and “Git 'er done!” t-shirts dancing and singing along, for crying out loud. Keith bounced in place, fanned himself, cocked his head and acted out the words as he sang and Daisy couldn't get enough of it. Her knees almost gave out at the line, “And I might find her if I'm looking like I can,” because Daisy would have sworn that Keith winked at her.
Daisy was all the way across the bar; there's no way he could see her tucked away back here in the semi-dark. She just wanted to think that. Because if the man on stage was actually flirting back with Daisy, then that meant that the flirting she had done earlier wasn’t just harmless bon mots tossed at a handsome guy.
She almost fell over from the ferocious tug on her arm by Bea. “He totally winked at you!”
Daisy stood stock still, barely shaking her head, no. “We just want to think that, Bea. Oh, we really want to think that.”
Bea squeezed her hand, “You could finally have a vocal partner that could keep up with you, one that wasn’t me! And this one you could have kisses with.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Bea, how do you manage to turn everything into further proof of your talent? Besides, we were talking about whether or not Captain Cute-stuff is flirting with me, because I’m pretty sure that’s just performance work up there, not actual flirting.”
Bea ran the edge of her straw along her bottom lip, watching Damian approach them. She said, “You are as ignorant as you are fabulous. You’ll see.”
Damian joined them with a fresh drink for Bea and himself. “Now that's my old friend. He always comes alive when he sings. That's why we're always trying to get him to come out. He's not been to one of these in more than a year. Not since his dad died, at least.”
Damian had Bea's full attention now. “His dad died?”
A flash of guilt crossed Damian's face. He leaned over to speak into Bea's ear – the shouting for a new singer was almost deafening. “I shouldn't have said anything; it's not my story to tell. Besides, this is a night of fun! No sad stories allowed; that's our rule here.”
It was maddening, absolutely maddening. No one would tell Daisy anything. And it didn't seem like she'd get a chance any time soon to ask Keith herself, seeing as everyone in the place kept trying to sling an arm over Keith's shoulder or buy him a drink once his turn on stage was over.
Mr. Banana Bread was pushed onto the stage, and the electric piano intro to LL Cool J's “I Need Love” started playing amid whoops and crazed laughter.
“Where are we?” Daisy asked Bea. “Have we entered some bizarro land? This is...”
Bea, laughing, squeezed Daisy and said, “This is called fun.” She sounded out the word fun. “This is what people do when they want to enjoy life.”
Daisy watched the old man bouncing his whole torso up and down to keep the beat as he read the words on the screen behind him, completely off tempo and off key. She had to admit it was pretty hilarious. She laughed into Bea's ear, “Now he would have loved to sing Margaritaville.”
She giggled and nodded. She held her drink up the air and shouted, “Whoo!” when Banana Bread attempted a few dance moves, almost falling over from a spin. Daisy laughed as well and looked around the crowd. She spotted Keith near the stage; one guy was holding Keith in a one-armed hug as another friend talked animatedly to them both.
Banana Bread got to the dirty part of the song and did his best to hold the tempo together.
“Our bodies explode in ecstasy unreal,
You're as soft as a pillow and I'm as hard as steel.
Clean and unsoiled and yet sweaty and wet,
I swear to you this is something I will never forget.
I need love.”
One man was literally laying on the floor, holding his belly and rolling back and forth from laughing so hard. Damian grinned at Daisy as if to say, “See?” Daisy closed her eyes, smiling, and nodded. Yeah, okay, this was fun. Something she never would have pictured herself doing, but still.
“We're all just happy he came out tonight. Give the guys a chance to try and buy him a beer; he'll come back over here eventually,” Damian said with a sly look.
“W-what? Who? I'm just having fun with my buddy here, I don't--” Daisy tried to chuck Bea on the shoulder, but she rolled her eyes and slipped under Damian's arm.
She looked coquettishly up at her date and said, “She thinks she's not obvious. Worse, she thinks he--” She nodded in the general direction of Keith. “--isn't interested.”
Damian looked at Daisy, who was currently trying to figure out how she could melt into the floor and die. Possibly explode into actual flames, as that might take out Bea as well. Her face was hot enough that she thought for a moment that spontaneous combustion might actually be possible and imminent.
“Did you not hear me say that he's not been to one of these things in over a year?”
She stammered, looking at Bea for help. She was nothing of the sort, giggling and rolling her eyes.
Damian swallowed a gulp of his drink and continued. “What, just out of the blue he finally shows up to one? Emmet and I have been texting his sorry butt all night to hurry up and get down here when we saw that you showed up.”
They seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction. Daisy was as confused and tied up in knots as she'd ever been. “I don't follow?”
“Dang, Bea, your friend is really ignorant.”
Bea sighed dramatically. “Damian, you have no idea. She honestly has no idea about how attractive she really is.”
Daisy slammed the rest of her drink; this was beyond uncomfortable. She needed to make new words to express the nervous excitement and panic that was coursing through her body. Of course she wanted to think that she had some mystical power to make a man go to the ends of the earth – or end of the street, whichever – for her, but the harsh reality of life never matched that hope. Daisy knew that as soon as she bought into that, Keith would introduce her to the gorgeous and chic woman that he had really shown up to see, a guy with a ridiculous name like Antoinette – she would clearly enunciate all of the syllables – or worse, Anastasia, ugh.
And she would be a model and had a trust fund and a closet full of one-of-a kind McQueen and a PhD in Fantastic, and she would automatically know that Daisy's dress were from eBay, her shoes were last season, and her jacket was from a damaged sale and Daisy was so gifted with her ability to mend and sew, Antoinette/Anastasia just never could work with her hands like that and isn't little Daisy just the cutest, Keith? We should invite her to my quaint 12,000 square foot home in the Hamptons in August, she'll be so entertaining.
That was how Daisy's life played out.
Bea scrutinized her face, chewing the inside of her cheek before she asked, “Castle in Bavaria?”
Daisy leveled her gaze at her and replied, “No. Mansion in the Hamptons.”
They both burst into laughter. She rubbed her arm as she said, “D. Stop sabotaging yourself. Just have fun. I am, and if I can, you can. No more pity parties; we agreed.”
“This is my In Memoriam honoring our former pity parties.”
Damian finished his conversation with a few of the guys, and Daisy noticed they were looking over at her. Her skin prickled on the back of her neck. They weren't giving off any malice, though, just interest. Daisy tried to keep her cool; she shook a few pieces of ice into her mouth to chew and keep herself occupied as Damian came back over.
“Daisy, you'll be fine here, right? I promised this lovely lady a song, and I'm up next.”
Bea bounced on her toes, smiling at Daisy, indicating with both of her index fingers in an arc mimicking her mouth that she should, too. Daisy looked daggers at her as she backed away. Something caught her peripheral vision and she exhaled, letting out a little of the tension. Emmet had come back. At least she wasn't totally friendless here.
“I left you here almost an hour ago, and you haven't moved an inch. We don't bite, Daisy, it's safe to mingle.” Emmet motioned for the bartender to serve him another, elbows resting on the counter. “I'm sorry if you're not having fun. We're not your usual crowd, huh?”
She chuckled softly, “No, there are far less sequins and hissy fits here; I barely know what to do with myself.”
“It's good that you're here, though. I know Emily is going to be glad to meet you.”
“Is she here?”
“No, but I'm sure I'll be seeing you again.”
If Daisy thought her stomach had been in knots before, she evidently didn't understand that there were piddly granny-knots and then there were massive, complicated, twisting knots, because that was what her stomach was currently doing.
“Yeah, another Abita, thanks.” Keith casually leaned against the bar near Daisy, flushed and grinning from all the talking he'd done. All of the not-to-Daisy talking. “Hey, guys, what did I miss?”
Affecting casual, or as close in approximation as she could, Daisy replied, “I was trying to convince Emmet that this bar needs a dance floor.” She waved at the boisterous crowd, “Clearly these men need to unwind, they're all so high strung.”
“Funny, too,” Keith laughed and shook his head.
Too? What was the one to precede the too?
Daisy wrapped her arms around one knee and leaned back on the bar stool and cocked one eyebrow. “You should see my high-wire act. I'm just full of hidden talents.”
Keith hummed, grinning before take a sip. He gestured towards Daisy’s glass. “Need a refill?”
Emmet said, “She’s been nursing the same drink all night.”
Blushing, Daisy replied, “I’m just not one of those big drinkers. One or two, and then I call it quits. Too many and I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
Keith laughed and said, “That can be a good thing or a bad thing.”
Affecting a pained sigh, Daisy said, ”Well, I’m just not ready for a Turkish prison. Not again. True, the steam baths were great for my pores, but the accommodations were found lacking.”
“Too crowded?” Keith asked, propping his elbow on the bar and turning to give Daisy his full and amused attention.
Daisy shook her head. “Mm, no. Too barren. I had been led to believe there would have been opulence. Scarves, velvet-poufs, fig cakes...”
She could happily spend the rest of the night doing whatever it was that made Keith smile like he was currently; it was like he hadn't smiled in a long time and had saved them up and they were all happening at once. It was nice to know that she could have that effect on someone, for sure.
“I'll just leave you two alone for a minute,” Emmet said, giving Keith's shoulders a squeeze and winking at Daisy.
Keith had his face resting in one hand, still smiling at Daisy as he asked, “So. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“Seeing how the other half lives?”
“Other half, huh? What's your half, then?”
Daisy leaned back, still holding one knee and thought for a minute. “The non-life-threatening job half? Then again, you have no idea how dangerous my line of work can be at times.”
Keith's eyes were literally twinkling. Daisy was not going to acknowledge the string of fairy-lights that hung over their heads; Keith's eyes were twinkling.
“How's that?”
Daisy leaned in and dead-panned, “You've clearly never told a lead actress that she needs to lay off the craft services unless she wants every seam taken out by more than a few inches, or you’d know the answer to that.”
Keith seemed interested in hearing all about the different shows Daisy had designed costumes for, the processes involved, and especially some of the more gossipy backstage stories. She was a willing narrator, pleased that it wasn't boring Keith to hear about her job. In fact, Keith seemed almost hungry for it, wanting to hear all about different auditions Daisy had been on over the past four years and asking which songs she most loved performing.
Every time Daisy asked Keith about his job or the station, Keith either deflected by asking Daisy about her job or wanting to know more about her auditions. One time he said, “Smokey's rule, we don't talk shop here. So tell me what it was like to do off-Broadway, I can't imagine how nerve wracking that must have been.”
Okay, then. Maybe he misses performing, or...maybe he doesn't like his job. There was something in Keith's eyes that made him look lonely, unsatisfied. She recognized that look from her own reflection. It hurt something in her to see that pain in a person as compassionate and friendly as Keith seemed to be.
Hyper-aware of her hand resting just inches from Keith's on the bar's edge, she had a wild thought of laying her's over Keith's, wanting to feel his skin, warm under her hand. She shoved that thought down to mingle with the butterflies in her belly and leave her brain alone. Instead, she asked Keith, “Do you miss it?”
Knitting his brow, Keith replied, “Miss what?”
“Singing. Performing. You're clearly talented. I'm amazed you aren't on a stage yourself, instead of fighting fires and saving Metropolis.”
Keith was blushing, but he also looked unhappy about something. The earlier thought fought its way back up to Daisy's brain. She lightly touched the back of Keith's hand in apology. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I meant it to be a compliment.”
“No,” Keith said, eyes fixed on their hands. He covered Daisy's with his other and held them there for just a brief moment, a moment she would replay in her mind for hours afterward, remembering the way her stomach looped and swirled at that simple touch. She was sure that if anyone had actually been paying attention, they would have seen the electric spark that must have flashed when Keith touched her.
Shaking his head softly, Keith leaned back and took his lovely strong hands with him, leaving Daisy's cold and lonely and really wishing that she was brave enough to snatch one of them back to where it belonged, entwined with hers.
Keith added, “No, no...and thank you, by the way. That was something I'd wanted to do since I was a little kid. Sing.”
“Why didn't you?”
Keith smiled, but there was something painful in his eyes. “Sometimes things don't turn out like you want them to. But don't get me wrong, I love what I do.”
“Well, that's good. I know I wouldn't want a fireman showing up to my blazing house if he was just feeling 'meh' about the job that day.”
“Ha, no. There's not a lot of room for ennui in my line of work. Well, not in yours, either, I expect.”
“Oh, there's plenty of ennui,” Daisy said, “especially when I forget that I never want to work with experimental theater, because that never means amazing design. It almost always means black sets and black tubes on everyone. Once, though, I did get to make battleship grey tents for an entire company that was deconstructing Oklahoma for the post-modern hipster crowd. So that was pretty fantastic in the not-at-all way.”
Keith opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. “That is amazing. Please tell me you sat through opening night.”
“They didn't even get to opening night. The director and Ado Annie got into a screaming match about the nude scene the director insisted on--”
“No!” interrupted Keith, completely horrified.
“--oh, yes. And he fought tooth and nail for it. You know, because she's just a girl who can't say no.”
“Who's your friend, Cap?”
Banana Bread had evidently sidled over at one point in their conversation. Daisy noticed that the relaxed, loose guy she'd spent the last few minutes with was immediately replaced with Captain Serious. Keith was alert, tall in his seat, and his charming smile had been replaced with tight lips. Oh.
“This is Daisy; she's here with Damian's date keeping an eye on her.”
Banana Bread grunted, “You mean keeping an eye on us.” He stuck his hand out for a shake and said, “William Munny, call me Bill.”
Daisy plastered a smile on her face, her eyes darting between the two men. Banana Bread-- erm, Bill (it was going to take a bit for Daisy to get used to calling him a real name) was a lot more intimidating up close than when he was rapping out a love song earlier in the night. He looked like a lawman from the Wild West. Handlebar mustache, rough, leathery skin from years of working in extreme conditions, and he was completely stone-faced.
Keith, on the other hand, looked like every negative emotion possible was dancing across his face. What is going on here? And why am I the poor second cousin all of a sudden?
Daisy slapped a smile on her face and stuck her hand out. “It's nice to meet you, Sir.”
“Call me Bill. Now, Daisy, was it? I hate to do this but I need to confirm a few things with the captain here.”
Son of a- “Be my guest! I don't mean to hog the conversation all night.” Daisy couldn't bring herself to look anyone in the eye; she told herself to keep up her cheerful exterior. Banana Bread Bill gave off a fairly strong disapproval vibe.
She chanced a look at Keith, and her stomach fell. Keith simply looked empty. The laughing, friendly man she'd teased and was flirty with was gone, replaced with someone that was all business. Keith had a stony expression on his face and was already gliding out of his bar stool to walk away. Keith nodded briskly at Daisy, barely squeaking out a polite smile in the process. “Daisy. Uh, excuse us.”
As they walked away, the sounds of the bar came roaring back, almost like a wave knocking her over. She mentally raced through every conversation with Damian and Bea. Was it something she might have said? Was she too young for him? Too inexperienced? Whatever it was, Banana Bread Bill clearly wanted to put an end to it.
She searched the room for Keith and saw him leaving with Bill up the dark, wooden stairs to street level. A few feet away she startled at seeing Bea wrapped up in Damian's arms, swaying to the music, smiling up at him. No one thinks a thing about them and their PDA. It's not fair. This city is huge, how is it I can't find one handsome man that is interesting, not crazy, and is available? If this was how things were, only letting Keith out on a short leash, it was no wonder he never came to these parties. No wonder he threw himself into his work: he wasn't allowed to do anything else. As much as she was attracted to Keith, and oh, was she attracted to Keith, she didn't know if she had it in her to date another person that couldn't be themselves all of the time. It was exhausting. And more importantly, it hurt.
Well, we'll always have Paris. And our charming apartment on the Champs-Élysées. An elderly, unknown relative dies in this fantasy, leaving them a scandalous amount of money. They have old fashioned bicycles with wicker baskets in front for trips to the market; they take long walks at sunset where they hold hands; they sometimes argue over who loves the other the most, and of course, there would be passionate nights in front of a roaring fireplace. Daisy was still in the fade to the flickering fire portion of her fantasy when she snapped back to reality.
I didn't even get to the R-rated director's cut. She checked her watch, more than ten minutes since Keith had left, and there was no sign of him coming back. Maybe he had to go back to the station.... Without saying goodbye to me? She sighed, feeling any magic that may have sparked that night was most likely gone by now. Au revoir, mon amant de fantaisie.
It was time for Daisy to get out of there. She needed to find Emmet and make sure his fiance knew to expect her at her shop soon, because she was going to have one good thing come out of this night, if she had any say in the matter. Oh, shoot. There still was Bea to think about. Maybe she needed Daisy to walk her back home? She should find out.
Speak of the devil; Bea scurried over to her. “Daisy, Damian and I are going to head out. He's going to walk me home.” She gave her a significant look, the one they established in their dormitory in college that meant Do not come home.
“Bea Ellis,” she whispered, “you are not expecting me to stay here by myself while you trip the light fantastic. Not to mention, you just met him. He could be a secret serial killer, for all we know.”
“Okay, Moral Police." She smoothed the front of her dress, not making eye contact. “Just give me a half-hour, okay? Then all rooms should be cleared.”
Daisy raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, I see. Well,” she sighed, “at least one of us can say we had a successful night.”
Bea finally noticed that Daisy was all alone. “Where's Keith?”
Daisy lay her head on Bea's shoulder. “Who knows. Called away, and I think he was in trouble. You know, for being not being 'captainly' enough.”
“What?”
Daisy waved her hand dismissively, saying, “I really don't want to go into it here. Besides, this isn't the time because you have Damian on the brain.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the bar. “So I have to stay here for ten minutes?"
“Thirty minutes.”
“Fifteen.”
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen.”
She huffed out her breath and gave her a dirty look. “Fine. Fifteen.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed her cheek. “We'll talk tomorrow morning, for sure. I'm pretty sure I'll be alone for breakfast.”
“Bea Ellis!”
She threw her head back and laughed. Daisy loved that she was finally having fun again; she had missed her excited, animated, happy friend. She just wished she could share in it with a little of her own having “fun” again, too. Daisy decided to be generous and give her twenty minutes, and then that was it: she was going home. Not to mention how late it was, and her skin was going to be a disaster if she didn't get some sleep soon.
She played a round of Scrabble on her phone, keeping track of the time. She pushed off her stool and looked around one last time on the chance that Keith had come back. No such luck, but the President of the Ruin Daisy's Life Club had returned. That was all the pushing Daisy needed. As she headed for the door, Banana Bread waved his hand at her and mouthed, “Good to see you.”
Was it?
Daisy pushed around a few knots of people, smiling when making eye contact but trying not to, until she finally made it to the front entrance. A warm hand caught her elbow as she started climbing the stairs.
“You're leaving?”
Keith. Daisy was mad at this point. She didn't know what to think. Flirting here, disappearing there.... They had a conversation that ended in chilling nothingness, and yet everyone seemed to think there was something amazing happening between them. Well, if there was, Daisy couldn't see it at this point. She was tired, cranky and lonely. She just wanted to clean up and slip into cool, freshly washed sheets so she could call this night officially over.
She sighed and picked at a bump in the stair rail's varnish. “Yeah, it's been a long day, and it seems like Bea didn't need a chaperone after all, so,” she trailed off, not wanting to say, And I only date grown ups that aren't ashamed of who they're with. And also men that actually want to date me. Instead, she simply said, “I just need to get my beauty sleep.”
Keith huffed out a sigh, running one hand through his hair. “Well, it was nice seeing you again.”
Nice. The kiss of death. Something that had flittered and twittered in Daisy's stomach most of the night finally fell, dead. “You, too.” She started back up the stairs, more quickly this time. She felt rejected, stupid and utterly dismal, and she just wanted to get out of there.
“Hey, um, do you know Bitter Sweet?”
Daisy stopped in her tracks. She started laughing as she turned to face Keith. “Do I know bittersweet? That's practically my middle name. That's my life.”
Keith looked utterly confused. He jammed his hands in his pockets and asked, “So... you've been there? I mean, I like it for a cafe and all, but--”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Maybe that thing in her belly wasn't dead after all; something was making some feeble attempts at flight.
“Bitter Sweet? The cafe two blocks over?”
Yep, I'm an idiot. “No, I’ve not heard of it,” Daisy replied, wondering if this was going somewhere and unable to stop the hope flaring up inside.
“It's small, but it's family owned. They've been here a while. Really good cookies, too. Well,” Keith grinned, looking bashful all of a sudden, “except for one kind. I've recently tasted a much superior oatmeal raisin cookie, come to think of it.”
Daisy leaned in the doorway, trying to remember to keep her face vaguely neutral. It wasn’t easy as everything in her was yearning for this man to quit being a dummy and ask her out, already.
“Oh,” Daisy exhaled, pleased and nervous at the same time. “You know, I need a good coffee house; making myself a nonfat mocha just doesn’t feel right. It should be hand-crafted by a professional.”
Keith chuckled, “Well, I have no idea how good those are; I’m a basic coffee guy, myself. It’s only that you’d mentioned just moving into the neighborhood, so I didn't know if you were familiar with all the good places to go.”
Definitely not dead, and nearing a full remission. “Oh, so you live around here, too?”
“Biking distance to the station, but yeah. Grew up not too far from here.”
“I see that I’m going to have to pick your brains for all the best shops and detours, then.”
“Absolutely,” Keith replied, leaning against the opposite side of the door frame.
Daisy bit her lip and looked down for a minute to give herself a break from staring into Keith's eyes so she could think clearly enough to make a decision on whether to ask an important question. Before she let herself get swept away by praised cookies, long eyelashes, and a brilliant smile, she needed to know something first.
“Keith, can...I ask you something? Something that might be personal?”
“Well, now I’m intrigued.”
Daisy chanced a look back at Keith’s face; there was no anger, no fear, just simple curiosity. She exhaled slowly. “Before, when Banana-- when Bill came over, did I pick up the slightest whiff of disapproval? Because I really don’t mean to cause anyone trouble, and that’s the impression I got. I understand if he doesn't want you to get distracted from work or anything. I guess your position is really important and I understand.” She was rambling now.
Daisy's eyes followed Keith's hand as it ran through his hair, trying to avoid Keith's eyes in case what Daisy suspected was true.
“Huh? Oh, no. I'm allowed to talk to anyone I want, is that what you mean?”
Daisy’s shoulders dropped about five inches and she decided it was okay if she dropped her mask of detached cool that hadn’t really worked all night anyway, and just grin like a fool. “Yes. And good! I mean, that’s nice that you can be open where you work. I sometimes wonder about things like that.”
“Well, here everyone's pretty accepting of me. It helps that I grew up with most of them. Bill’s known me since I was a little kid. He was my dad’s best friend, they went through Fire Academy together and he’s been a part of the family ever since.” Keith shrugged. “He’s also my boss.”
It still didn’t make any sense to Daisy, the sudden chill that fell over Keith when Bill had come over.
Keith shifted, as if he was uncomfortable with the discussion. “He’s grooming me, I think, wants me to always give off the right vibe. Don’t worry about it, though, I’m sorry that we made you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, please! Don’t apologize!” Unless it’s to say how sorry you are that you haven’t spent all night with me. “So, about that coffee shop...” Just ask. Just ask him. What can it hurt now? “Maybe you could show it to me, sometime?”
The sweetest, most radiant smile broke out on Keith's face. “Yeah, we should definitely do that.”
It was the smile that did it. It said Keith had genuine excitement about seeing her again. Daisy had simply misread the tension between the two men earlier. Maybe it was just about work and Daisy needed a big ol' stepladder to get over herself? She clung to that hope. “So...give me a call when you’d like to play tour guide, then.”
“Okay. I’d like that.”
Daisy backed up a few steps, and waved a “See you later,” and not the “Goodbye,” she had been so sure the night would end with. She felt like she might start levitating; maybe she already was. She checked her shoes to make sure. Nope, still on the street and walking normally. Just before she turned the corner she saw Keith, hands still jammed in his pockets, smiling at the ground and toeing at something on the pavement. Daisy was almost 100% sure she actually did levitate the entire way home.
If Damian and Bea were jousting in the living room, or playing a round of chess with puppies, Daisy had no idea. She drifted in the house and went straight to her room. She closed her bedroom door, backed into it and sighed. Which is when she realized that she hadn't actually given Keith her number. Which meant that he had no way to contact Daisy.
Of course.
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Jun 11, 2014 12:02:05 GMT -5
Very nice.
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Post by daisyfields on Jun 12, 2014 17:27:26 GMT -5
Ooo! What's going to happen next?!
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Post by tonilous on Jun 12, 2014 20:17:55 GMT -5
Where There's Smoke Chapter 3
Daisy lay in bed glaring at the ceiling. Note to self: do not sub-let apartments that are under behemoths. The tenants upstairs, the Michigan supporters, surely moved around their apartment on pogo sticks; there was no other explanation for the loud banging noises, unless they purposely stomped around. She sighed and rolled to her side, glancing at the clock. 8:23 am. Seeing as she hadn't made it back to her apartment until close to 2am, and then she spent a few hours gnashing her teeth over skipping away, tra la la, without so much as giving Keith her phone number, she was still tired.
Stupid Marc Jacobs v-neck and his stupid sexy chest hairs and dumb pretty face with rotten full lips made for kissing, oh, what if Keith smiles when he kisses and I can feel the corners of his mouth turn up and --
Clomp clomp clomp upstairs, and maybe they could try to consolidate their trips up there instead of pacing back and forth like they were marching for the North Korean army.
Daisy flung herself onto her back, slamming her fists into the mattress. Fine. She'd get up. She grabbed her summer robe that was draped over the back of her desk chair and slid it over her pajamas, in case Bea changed her mind and they had a guest for coffee and scones.
She stepped out to the main living area, noting that Bea's door was still closed and her purse was sitting on the wet bar. At least one of us is getting some sleep. She started the coffee pot, staring at the red light on the Brew button as she waiting for it to turn green. She thumped her forehead onto her crossed arms on the counter. How aptly named: Bitter Sweet.
-8-
Bea staggered out yawning at 10 am. Daisy had already made good headway in the morning's crossword; she would be left with "lavabo - ten letters" and "Trammel of baseball - fifteen letters," and Daisy had absolutely no idea what it could possibly be. And didn't care. She grimly noted that there were two clues that involved coffee and four that involved love or relationships. Even the NYT crossword puzzle was mocking her.
"All alone I see?"
"Of course." Bea yawned hugely and reached for her favorite mug. "Oh, excuse me. Although I take it that means you didn't hear him slip out last night?"
Daisy laid her pencil next to the puzzle and leaned back, grinning. "Well, well! Details; spill it."
"You're one to talk! Did you and Keith find a dark corner and kiss passionately?"
She couldn't keep her face from falling. She slumped in her chair, last night's mistake deflating her already troubled mood.
"Oh, no! Oh, no, Daisy, what happened?" Bea abandoned her coffee and slid in the seat next to her, taking her hand.
Daisy caught her up on the conversation, the interruption, the disappearance, and then the potential date.
"But that's wonderful; why are you so sad?"
"Because I'm the idiot that left him with no way to get in touch with me!"
"Well, that's just stupid. We'll go down to the station house. Damian is off today, so I don't have to worry about looking like a creepy stalker, and you can give him your number there!"
"So I can look like a creepy stalker? You know, I kind of feel like I've done enough throwing. It would be nice for him to pitch a little woo."
"But he can't because he doesn't know --. Oh my god, this is stupid. I'll give your number to Damian, he can give it to Keith. Problem solved."
Bea stood up to finish making her coffee.
"Creamer is over the stove. No, I don't want you to have Damian give Keith my number; that's so high school. I can make a little note with a check box, 'Do you like me Yes or No?'"
"Daisy, you're being unreasonable. There's a simple solution to this."
"I just... I don't know, I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something."
"You don't believe in karma."
"Hm, good point." Daisy pressed her hands into her eye sockets and sighed. "Just... I don't want to do anything about it today. Creepy stalker and all, right?"
Bea buried her face in her mug, avoiding eye contact.
"Mm hm. Besides, I have fittings all day today and tomorrow. I cannot deal with boys on top of dealing with divas."
-8-
Screaming would be appropriate right about now. Especially if she could scream right into Giovanna's hateful face and tell her once and for all that her eyebrows were drawn on crookedly and in the wrong shade, she simply could not pull off that color yellow, and if she didn't lay off the pasta buffet, Daisy was done trying to keep her in her costume. Giovanna had to wear a slip for half of the production, and once you put holes in satin, they were there for all the world to see.
I wouldn't be so bad if Daisy even remotely liked that harpy, but Giovanna snapped her fingers at her, she wouldn't make eye contact, and somehow had gotten the idea that that was acceptable behavior. She finished ripping out the darts in the bodice and reminded herself that she was being paid well for this production, and she was being paid well because of the headlining star. Who happened to be a complete witch.
“Daisy?” Peter gently laid a hand on Daisy's shoulder, then snatched it back when Daisy whirled to see who had dared invade her personal space. “Um, maybe we could call it a day. Tricia has an extra set of Spanx that she's going to loan Giovanna for tonight's dress rehearsal, and we can reconvene on Monday.” Peter dropped his voice and leaned in closely, “I'll maybe mention that she's bringing our wardrobe over budget and to stop...indulging like she's been.”
“I am telling you, I--” Daisy hissed. “I warned you about poaching opera singers; they are the worst when it comes to attitude, and they assume every production will have yards of velvet to hide their flaws and that we're all just dying to be in their presence. I've already altered her costume three times this month. We're about to go into double overtime pay, Peter. I just do not have the patience to deal with this.”
Peter backed away a bit, giving Daisy full clearance to the door. "I understand completely. And as always, your work is impeccable, and if no one else will say it, I appreciate you. Now. How about you take your gloomy rain cloud on home and let me deal with these girls, hmm?"
Daisy deflated; she unstrapped her wrist pin-cushion and jammed it in her work bag, along with her other portable supplies. “Fine. I definitely need to catch up on some sleep.”
Peter whistled lasciviously. “Oh, do you no--”
“Don't start with me, Combs; I am not in the mood.”
“I--” Peter started, backing away slowly. “--am going to turn away now before you have a chance to eviscerate me.”
Daisy dropped to one knee to finish shoving her sketch book and notes into her bag when she saw a pair of puffy feet invade her space.
“I hate these shoes, they're ridiculous. And I told you, I'm a size 7. These are a 9.”
Daisy sucked in a breath, and exhaled slowly, counting to ten. She made it to three. “What are you complaining about now, Giovanna?”
“These shoes. They pinch. Probably because they're cheap.”
That was it. Daisy rose to her feet, pleased that she towered over her. She bent over so she was inches from her face. “If they pinch and they're two sizes too big, then you are a complete moron. And I am fresh out of crayons, or I'd explain it to you.”
She reared back, flushing. “Now, see here-”
“No. I wish I could see it your way, but I can't get my head that far up my butt.”
Daisy smirked when she heard a few others in the company titter. She wasn't the only one that got the superior treatment from Giovanna, but this was just not the week. She grabbed her things, snorted when Peter gave her both a frightened and apologetic look, and stormed out of the building.
Her bad mood poured off her in almost visible waves. She had no trouble fighting Friday late-afternoon traffic to the subway station; people seemed to part around her like she was wearing a force field. All of the occupants on the subway clustered at one far end as she sat muttering and jangling one leg up and down in a chair at the opposite end. She was so frustrated that she didn't even notice that she got off her train one stop too early.
“Great.”
She looked around the unfamiliar surroundings and headed off to walk the extra six blocks to her neighborhood, keeping her eyes peeled for any interesting looking eateries or bodegas for her dinner. She was going to splurge tonight; maybe she’d even get something with cheese in it. She deserved something decadent with empty calories.
Friday night with no date, no prospects... nothing but Tivo'd Project Runway, one of the early seasons. The thought of mocking wanna-be designers that couldn't sew a straight line if they had a glue gun to their head lifted her spirits somewhat. It wasn't that she was planning on a pity party, because those had been outlawed. It would be more of a bash.
Daisy dropped her items on the counter and while the cashier rang her up, she pulled out her cloth shopping bag from her satchel. She helped the cashier load her things into the bag and thanked him, walking to the door. Which is when she almost ran head-long into Keith.
“Daisy! What are you doing here?”
She was frozen in place, the toffee candy bar wrapper she had been in the process of biting off was stuck to her lip, but both hands were full. She tried to push it off her lip with her tongue.
“You know, you're not supposed to eat the wrapper.” Chuckling, Keith reached out and took the shopping bag from Daisy's hand so he could take care of the little bit of garbage.
“Oh, really? I heard there were essential trace minerals.”
Keith's eyes were crinkled with mirth, a sight that sent a flash of heat to Daisy's face and a ball of excitement to her stomach.
“You know, Daisy, you left without giving me your number.”
Daisy would never have shimmied or danced a jig, she had far too much self-respect for something so childish and unrestrained. So she imagined herself doing it, instead. She did, however, beam at Keith, tilting her head. “Did I? I don't know what could have distracted me.”
Keith, still holding her bag, handed over his cellphone. “Would you be so kind?”
She was charmed to her toes. She took the phone and entered her information, then swapped the phone for her shopping bag.
Keith stood for a moment longer, just smiling at her, before checking her phone. “Cutler? Well, it's nice to officially know you, Ms. Cutler.”
Daisy raked her eyes over Keith; he was wearing his normal FDNY tee and navy pants that looked regulation.
Keith laughed, running his hands through his hair. “Not very stylish, I know, but somehow the department doesn't seem to care.”
The pants may have been a poly-cotton blend, but they were well-fitted to Keith's toned body, so Daisy couldn't really complain too much.
“Hey, I'd really love to catch up,” Keith said, “but I have to be on shift in about ten minutes. Tony's cooking tonight, and he has absolutely no sense of taste. Everything is soaked in ketchup, so I try and bring my own food in.”
“Oh, certainly! I was just leaving, myself.”
“Hot date tonight?”
Daisy flushed to her roots. She knew Keith was fishing, but still. “Oh, yes. Hot date with a gorgeous man, actually. He's incredibly talented and articulate.” Before Keith's face could drop any further, she laughed, “Hot date with my television and Tim Gunn.”
Keith's shoulders dropped an inch, and he exhaled softly, smiling. “Oh. Well, I don't want to keep you, then. He's quite charming.” He held his phone up and wiggled it slightly. “So, give you a call?”
Did Daisy think that she was having a bad day? Because she honestly couldn't remember why she thought that, especially in the face of that expectant look Keith was wearing. Wanting to call her, hoping that would be okay. The bash was quickly being reorganized into a joyful jubilee. “Yes, I'd like that.”
Keith walked backwards into the shop, keeping eye contact and grinning hugely. “Okay, then.”
She smiled back, equally goofy. “Okay, then!”
He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “I really do have to go, though. I’ve got my hopes set on Eduardo still having chicken enchiladas. The owner’s wife makes them, and they’re ridiculously good. They usually sell out by this time.”
The cashier shouted out with a thick accent, “I always keep some for you, Señor Keith!”
It seemed that Daisy wasn't the only one charmed by the captain. She laughed, “I'll let you get to it, then. Have a good night; hope it's a calm one?”
Keith was almost out of visual range, so he leaned his head over and said, “Thank you!”
Daisy didn't skip out; it certainly wasn't a prance. She was a woman, not a giggling schoolgirl; she walked out. With maybe a little bit of a dance added in. She hardly noticed the next several blocks as she made her way back home, walking briskly with her fist pressed to her wide, happy smile.
-8-
“That's a lot of look.”
Daisy said it before Tim did, but honestly, she was impressed with how little there was on the model to make it so... erm, unique.
“It's like a spider on acid spun a web with metal washers.” she muttered around a mouthful of pins. “Not even a celebrity would comfortably wear that excuse for swimwear.”
The tv was on in the background while she finished up some muslin patterns for an upcoming project at her work table. Not the most exciting of Friday nights, but she wouldn't have to worry about racing against the clock for the rest of the weekend.
Just in case.
She took her foot off the pedal of her sewing machine, hearing her phone ring in the other room. It's 10 o'clock at night, who the heck.... She knew it wasn't Bea, Harry, Anne, her dad; they all had personal ring tones. She almost didn't answer when she saw “UNKNOWN” on the screen but had a moment's thrill that it might be...
“Hello?”
“I'm not calling too late, am I?” Keith's voice murmured into Daisy's ear.
She settled into a chair in the living room, pleased beyond the telling. “No, not at all. I'm just catching up on some work. Slow night?”
Keith laughed pleasantly. “Don't jinx it!”
“Did your enchiladas live up to your expectations?”
“Mm, they did. And given the meal that Tony cooked, I’d say it exceeded expectations.”
“What did he make?” Daisy asked.
“Some god-awful thing he called a stew. It was a crock pot filled with canned peas, a whole tomato, not even chopped or peeled, frozen carrots, and--” Keith must have pulled the phone away to make a disgusted noise. “--sorry, it was just awful. He had some shredded turkey pastrami from the deli in there. That was it. No seasonings, no bay leaf, nothing that is a proper stew.”
“Oh, you poor things!”
She smiled and curled her toes at the sound of Keith laughing at the other end of the line.
“Enough about that, though.” He made some kind of noise like he was stretching before continuing. “How was your day? You didn’t seem as, hm, as buoyant as you’ve been the last times we’ve seen each other.”
Daisy snuggled into her chair, elated by this unexpected and fully welcomed turn of events in what had been a horrendous day. She toyed with the hem of her shirt, almost purring responses to Keith as she walked him through her work load and the horror story that was Giovanna.
“And you’ll be happy to know that I decided on saving the rest of my candy wrapper for a midnight snack.”
She was beginning to love the sound of Keith’s laugh, warm and bright. When he mentioned in an off-hand way that he'd just finished a workout in the station's gym and thought he'd give her a call, Daisy bit her lip to make sure she didn't actually make a sound into the phone.
I am going to literally die. It will be one of the few times that the word is used accurately in context.
“So, I was wondering if tomorrow--” someone called Keith's name in the background, and Daisy could hear the muffled sound of a hand over the receiver. Keith came back to the phone a brief moment later. “Sorry about that, and Emmet says to tell you hi.”
Daisy thrilled from her head to her toes and sank deeper into her chair, almost curling in to the back cushion with the phone, feeling somehow intimate with him on the other end. “Hi, back. And I believe you were asking about tomorrow?”
Keith hummed, “Tomorrow, yes.” He must have shifted at his end, his voice dropped back down to a quiet thrum, as if he didn’t want to share anything with anyone else, just Daisy. “What would you say about taking a personal tour? There's apparently an amazing new bistro that opened up not too far from your place; Emmet and Emily have gone on and on about it. Thought that maybe you and I could see if it was all that?”
She closed her eyes, and clucked her tongue, teasing, “Oooh, tomorrow. Let's see... Oh, wait--” her voice changed from flirtatious to something a little more serious when she remembered Harry was coming. “I actually do have something I need to take care of earlier in the day, but I should be finished around four, so I think I'm free after that?”
“That's perfect, I don't get off duty until three, so that gives me plenty of time to spruce up. Oh, can you hang on for just a second? I'm sorry, I have someone standing here demanding that I answer their question right away.”
Daisy laughed at the friendly banter in the background. “Tell you what, how about I let you go handle this new situation, and I'll see you tomorrow?”
“Okay. Tomorrow, then. It's a date.”
“Definitely.”
She barely had breath for “‘bye” as they ended the call.
There was absolutely nothing wrong in Daisy's mind for a grown woman to do a little victory dance in the privacy of her own home.
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Post by daisyfields on Jun 12, 2014 20:44:01 GMT -5
ahhhh! more! I can't get enough of this story.
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Post by barbt on Jun 12, 2014 21:50:09 GMT -5
I'd be dancing too if Keith asked me to have dinner with him. Even if I am old enough to be his mom. And not for THAT reason! He's so funny it's be great just to listen to him tell stories all evening :-)
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Post by tonilous on Jun 13, 2014 0:37:22 GMT -5
Hi! I am going to be doing double updates today because I will be incredibly busy tomorrow, so I hope you enjoy this rather lengthy update. :)
Where There's Smoke Chapter 4
“And then I have to meet with the West Village Film Fest group at 3 o’clock, so that's--” Bea closed her eyes and counted under her breath. “--four clients, plus my agent that I have to meet with today. Ugh, I am going to be crossing the whole city all day today.”
“That explains the shoes....”
She shot Daisy a warning look. “Listen, these sneakers are far more comfortable for walking than a pair of pumps, and some of us will willingly sacrifice looking stylish for the sake of not ending up with feet covered in bloody blisters that will have to be soaked in Epsom salt all night.”
“That's disgusting, but it's a fair point.” Daisy looked over the fold in the paper at Bea jamming papers and files into her bag. She had a short window of time today for Harry to get to the apartment, bring the remaining bits and bobs Daisy had kept in storage in Fairfax over the years, and then get Harry out before he ran into Bea.
She checked her phone; Harry had texted a half-hour ago that he'd left Jack's house in Wilkes-Barre and would be there by noon. She'd have enough time to get everything sorted, take Harry for a thank you lunch, and shove him off before Bea got back. Plus, she needed to spend an hour or so making sure her outfit was just right: not too casual, not too thinky, but enough to leave Keith breathless with anticipation. She'd spent the morning narrowing her options down to two themes, with a subset of four color palettes.
Bea raced over to her, gave a tight hug, and called out as she headed out the door, “You better be here when I get back; I want to see how he looks when he comes to pick you up!”
Daisy laughed and toodled her fingers at her. She squinted at the paper, and seized her pen. “43 down is 'ardor' which means 52 across is 'radiant.'” She tapped the end of her pen against her lips, then laughed. “So this one is 'scorching' and last one, 'intense.' Well, let's hope so, puzzle.”
It was okay to believe in fate when it was in your favor, right?
-8-
It was nearing 1:30 and still no sign of Harry. Daisy had called at 12:45 wondering where he was. Harry sounded completely confused and scared, saying, “Can't talk, dude, some old man is flipping me the bird and trying to say something to me.”
“Harry,” Daisy shouted, “you don't have to respond to him! In fact, don't!”
She heard Harry yell out in fright, heard the phone drop and Harry shouting, “I hate this city! I'll call you back when it won't kill me!”
Daisy should have insisted on making Jack drive with her brother; Jack wouldn't have been intimidated by aggressive drivers. Daisy kept herself busy unpacking the last of her workbooks and getting that space in order to pass the time.
Finally, her phone buzzed in her pocket, a clip of “I Gotta Be Me” signaling Harry.
“Hey, sorry about that, but these people, like, do not care about right of way. I waved thanks to someone behind me after I merged, and they totally thought I was flipping them off. I thought I was going to get shot. She was a mean looking old lady, too. I don't know how you do it out here.”
“Harold. Where are you?”
“Um, driving up some street called...um, Clinton? Cool, like the President.”
“Stick to the instructions I gave you; you should be here in a couple of minutes. But pull over and call me if you get lost.”
She clicked off the call and opened her front door, waiting on the stoop. She could hear her upstairs neighbors stomping around on their small balcony, and rolled her eyes. She kept her eyes trained on the end of the block, willing Harry to hurry up and get here. As it was, they probably wouldn't be able to spend any quality time together, not with Bea due back soon.
She saw Harry's truck turn onto her street, and she gave him a wave. Harry parked in the free space one house up and lumbered out, giving Daisy a quick hug. “Seriously dude, driving in this town sucks.”
“That's why everyone uses public transportation. Thanks for coming out here, though.” Daisy looked over all of her stuff in the back of the truck; nothing looked damaged, which was a relief. “How's Jack?”
Harry started to catch her up on Jack's life in Pennsylvania, where he had moved to stay close to his family. Harry hoisted a garment rack out of the back of the truck one-handed when Daisy heard, “GO BLUE!” from the balcony over her apartment.
Daisy dropped the rack on the sidewalk and squinted her eyes at the tenants that lived upstairs. “GO BUCKEYES!” Harry yelled back.
She was horrified. “Harry, please stop shouting things at my very large, very angry looking neighbors.”
Harry shook off Daisy's hand and cupped his mouth to holler, “Who got the Heisman?”
What on earth did that even mean?
One of the men upstairs pointed a massive set of barbeque tongs towards Harry. “Yeah, at least we don't have to live down the shame of Tressel stinking up the school.”
“You better shut your mouth, or I'm going to come up there and shut it for you!”
Daisy, almost in tears, pulled on Harry's arm.
“Harry, oh my god, would you stop threatening my neighbors?!”
Harry tossed off a last, “Yeah, that's what I thought,” pulled his shirt out from his chest and pointed at it with his free hand. Daisy noticed that Harry's red shirt was covered in the Ohio State football team's logo. Emblem? Whatever they called those things. Despite them being situated in Virginia, Harry and her dad religiously followed Ohio's football team, solely because it had been Robert's alma mater.
Football, for the love of-- “Harold Green!”
“Man, that sucks that you have to live under some jerks,” Harry scoffed, grabbing the garment rack again and adding a duffel bag. “Freakin’ Michigan.”
Daisy stood stock-still, not understanding anything that just happened.
“Come on, man, you told me I had to be out of here by 3:30.”
Daisy shook herself and grabbed an end table and bubble-wrapped lamp and followed her completely insane brother into her house.
-8-
After Harry’s fifth glance at Bea's door, Daisy finally addressed the eight hundred pound elephant not in the room. “She's not here. Um, I didn't tell her you were coming; I hope that was okay.”
Harry shoved the last box into Daisy's work space and leaned forward, holding on to the top of the door frame. “That's probably for the best, huh?” He looked sheepishly at Daisy. “Is she... you know, she doing okay?”
Daisy washed her hands off in the kitchen sink. “She is. It wasn't easy, these past few months. She was a horror show to live with,” she rolled her eyes. “But she understands. She knows that you're happy back in Fairfax. That's the most important thing to her, you being happy.”
She hung up the hand towel and motioned at the sink. “Harry, if we're going to eat, you have to wash your hands.”
“Ooh, do they have those hot dog carts around here?” Harry asked, automatically obeying Daisy “The last time I was here for Bea's graduation show thing, she wouldn't let me get one.”
“That's because they're soaked in filthy water and are essentially disease torpedoes. You are not going to eat one, and no, they do not have any in my neighborhood.”
“Well, let's get something, then, because I'm starved.”
Daisy grabbed her keys and wallet and headed to the door. “There's a burger place around the corner, they're really good.”
Harry smirked. “They have veggie burgers, then?”
Laughing, Daisy nodded. “Yes they do, but I'm just going to get a salad. I have a date tonight.”
“Ooh! What's his name?”
She pinked and shoved at Harry's arm. “His name is Keith, and he happens to be a fireman.”
“Wow, dude, that's so cool! He let you drive one of the fire trucks yet?”
“Don't be absurd,” Daisy laughed. “This is our first official date. Besides, there probably are rules against that sort of thing.”
-8-
Harry was properly fattened up in no time, thankfully. He didn't need to know that Daisy had picked that particular restaurant because of their speedy service; they were pushing it, time-wise. She was amazed to see that Harry still ate like a growing teenage boy. When Harry's burger, “The Everything But,” came, it practically filled the entire plate. Daisy felt full just looking at it. Harry was excited about “frings,” a basket filled with French fries and onion rings. And he ate all of it.
“I don't know whether to applaud you or call an emergency cardiologist,” Daisy had gaped as Harry swiped the last bite through the drops of sauce on his plate.
He laughed and protested as Daisy paid the check. She rolled her eyes at her step-brother. “You're helping me, so I get the food.”
On the short walk home, Harry told Daisy a story about one of the guys at their dad's shop getting tangled up in the lift because of his overalls. Daisy started laughing, but Harry stopped in mid-sentence when they were within a few doors from Daisy's place.
Bea was standing on the top step of their stoop, her arms thrown around Damian's neck, kissing him.
Daisy panicked and looked up at Harry. Daisy was trying to wrap her brain around her getting home too soon, her being home and making out with someone on the front porch in broad daylight, and Harry seeing all of it.
“Well, Daisy, you were right. She's clearly over us. She looks real happy.” Harry turned around and walked off in the opposite direction.
“Harry, wait!”
She could just kill her. Oh, she didn't mind that Bea was moving on, they both needed to. She just minded her brother seeing it when Harry wasn’t a hundred percent about the break up yet. She glanced over at her house and saw Damian walking off and waving goodbye to Bea, who was blowing him kisses. She ducked inside for the briefest of moments and came out with a file folder, stuck it in her attache, and briskly walked to the other end of the street towards the bus stop.
Daisy heaved a massive sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. She turned to Harry, who was nowhere to be seen. “Harry!” Daisy walked briskly in the direction she thought Harry had gone and found her under the canopy of the neighborhood bodega, idly riffling through a box of fruit outside.
“It's...one thing to know it's over,” Harry said, pain written all over his face. “It's another to see it with your own eyes. Why didn't you tell me she was seeing someone?”
Daisy ached to see her brother looking so sad, just ached for him. “She's not...I mean, it's new. They really just started going out within the past week, Harry, a couple of dates, that it. But it’s what you told her you wanted for her, right? To finally move on and make her life here?”
Harry looked down at his shoes, scraping the toe over an ancient piece of gum that had long since fused with the sidewalk. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Well,” Daisy sighed, looking over her shoulder. “She's gone, now. I guess she left something at the house, I don't know. But I saw her leave. Alone,” she added, when Harry looked back up, misery fighting to gain control over his face. “She left by herself. Hey, didn't you say that you and Jack had some big tournament tonight?”
Harry looked off at the middle distance. “Yeah. It's just something on Xbox, he set up a chat room with some of the old guys, and we were going to blow each other up all night.”
Daisy dragged Harry down the street and motioned with her head for them to head back. “Sounds exactly like what you need tonight. Explosions, shooting people in the face, whatever it is you boys do.”
Harry chuckled a bit. That's a good sign, at least. They got back to Daisy's place quickly. Harry excused himself; he had a two and a half hour drive back to Jack's. Daisy's phone buzzed and skittered on the counter where she kept her keys and wallet. She checked her watch. 3:45, and she still had to change her shirt and restyle her hair.
What's your address? I don't have access to dispatch records. ;)
Daisy smiled, bit her thumb, and sent the address with a similar winky face.
Harry came out of the bathroom, Daisy gave him a look involving a raised eyebrow and several years of admonitions; Harry walked back in and washed his hands.
“It's just gross, Harry. You're a grown man now.”
“Sorry.”
Harry walked down the first few steps outside and paused. “And sorry about earlier. Getting upset.” He shrugged one shoulder and looked off towards his truck, not moving yet.
“Come here.” Daisy waved him over and gave him a proper hug, even swaying side to side like Anne did. Harry buried his face in Daisy's neck for a moment, shuddering briefly. “Hey, hey, it's going to be okay. You know you did the right thing.”
Harry nodded against her neck and softly said, “Just...it hurts.”
Someone cleared their throat. Daisy looked up and saw Keith. Keith, with a bottle of wine wrapped up with a bow. Keith, with a completely hurt and confused look on his face.
“I...got off early. I thought I'd maybe surprise you. Huh. Silly me.”
Daisy pulled away from Harry, horrified. “No, no, this is my brother!”
Keith looked between the two of them, and Daisy knew they looked nothing alike. This was one of the few times it would be helpful for her to remember to drop the whole “the only steps in this family are the ones at the door” mantra Robert had pounded into their heads almost a decade ago.
“Step-brother. Can you imagine me trying to walk on those ski-boats he calls feet?”
“Hey!”
“Sorry, Harry. Um, this is my friend Keith.” She gave Harry a significant look and motioned with the tiniest of head jerks towards Keith.
“Huh?” Harry looked like he was trying to puzzle something out, then the pieces snapped together. “Oh! Fireman Keith!”
Unbelievable. Was it going to be like this every time she met Keith? Awkward and Daisy doing something ridiculous?
“Keith, this is my step-brother, Harry. He drove out here from Pennsylvania to bring me a few of my things that have been in storage.”
Keith shifted uncomfortably on the walk. “Oh, if you have family in town, we can reschedule....”
Daisy rolled her eyes and tugged at Keith's elbow to get him to come closer to the front door. “Don't be ridiculous. Harry was literally on his way back; he has big plans with some old friends, right?”
Harry grinned, looking between the two of them. “Hey, you're a fireman, right?”
“Firefighter, yep.”
“Oh, is that the way you're supposed to say it? Sorry man, I didn't know.”
Keith closed his eyes briefly and smiled, all gentility. “It's fine; we get that a lot.”
“So...do you have the Ghostbuster's pole?”
Keith actually laughed at that. Daisy wanted to listen to that sound forever; it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and pleasure shoot down her spine.
“You mean a fire pole? Yeah, we do, but it's not used much since we shoved the offices upstairs and put all the rec rooms downstairs.”
Daisy filed away that Keith's office was secluded from the other men. Focus, stop jumping ahead.
“Next time you're in town, have your sister bring you by. I'll even let you slide down it, if you want.” Keith leaned in towards Harry, as if spilling a secret, “It's totally fun.”
“Sweet! That's cool, Daisy, I'm glad you're dating such a cool dude.”
Flames may have actually shot from her eyeballs, Daisy wasn't sure. “God, Harry. Anyway,” she sing-songed, “I'm glad we got to hang out a little bit. Be careful driving back, and thanks for bringing me my things, I really appreciate it.”
She one-arm hugged Harry and practically shoved him to his truck. She heard Harry chuckle to himself. Oh, Harry wasn't always as naïve as he pretended; Daisy had learned that years ago.
Daisy whirled around to face Keith, feigning disappointment. “So! You came a little early, hmm?”
Keith smiled and blushed as well. “Yeah, I have an impulsive streak that usually gets me in trouble.”
Daisy motioned towards the front door with one hand and replied, “Impulsive is fine with me. But jumping to conclusions, not so much.”
They both waved at the truck as it drove away.
“Your brother is really tall. Like, really tall.”
Daisy paused by the door to allow Keith to enter first. “My dad thought about cutting half-circles at the tops of all the doors in our house, to help with all of the ducking.” She leaned back against the wet bar, smiling. “And what's that in your hand, Captain?”
Laughing, Keith rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and held the bottle out to Daisy. “A little house-warming gift.”
“Well, aren't you just the charmer,” Daisy grinned, taking the bottle. “Thank you, that's so thoughtful.” She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a crystal bucket. She pulled a tray of ice cubes from the small freezer and emptied them into the bucket. She examined the label; it was a really nice bottle of Viognier, perfect for a warm summer night. She put the bottle on ice. “We'll let that chill and maybe have a glass later?”
Daisy settled Keith into a chair with a selection of magazines as she excused herself to change clothes. She pulled on a fitted grey-blue dress that accented his lean frame and complemented his eyes and a pair of designer black boots. She checked her hair in the mirror, and tiptoed to her bedroom door, opening it just a crack. Keith was sitting comfortably, one foot resting on the other knee, wholly engrossed in the latest issue of Vogue.
Daisy smiled to herself, rested her hands on the edge of her vanity and sighed at her reflection, “Well-dressed, handsome, brings a house warming gift, and he likes Vogue. He's...perfect.”
She stepped out of the room and called out, “Well? Shall we?”
Keith went still, taking her in. He laid the magazine down and stood, his eyes raking over Daisy's frame. The intensity in his gaze was heady; not unwelcomed, just not something Daisy was used to.
“You look terrific.”
She clasped her hands and tilted her head, saying coquettishly, “You're not so bad yourself.”
Keith made a shallow nod with his head and waved a hand towards the door. “Mind if we just walk for a bit? There are a few places I want to show you.”
“I'd like that.” Very much. And there are a few things I'd like to show-- Hey, take it easy, the night's young. In fact, it's not even night.
They left the house and walked around the neighborhood, traveling an ever wider circle as Keith pointed out which grocer to avoid, who had the best Thai, and so on. Every now and then their hands or shoulders would brush against each other as they walked, thrilling Daisy every time. Once she glanced over at Keith to see him flushed and smiling after putting a hand on Daisy's back to guide her around a crowd of people.
Daisy's face positively ached from smiling. Not that she was complaining.
They talked about the usual things: where did you grow up, what's the latest book you've read, have you seen such and such movie, and with an ease that spoke of comfortable companionship. There were no awkward pauses, no time when Daisy thought Keith was a little weird for liking something or was a secret bigot, or any of the other horrible things that can happen when you're just getting to know a person.
After the waiter at the bistro took their order, Daisy leaned back in her seat, happy that Keith liked sitting outside. It was gorgeous, blue skies with a few high clouds and pleasantly warm.
“So I've noticed something about you,” Daisy said, forcing a suspicious look on her face as Keith laid his napkin across his lap.
“What's that?”
“You don't like talking about your job.”
Keith went still.
“I just want to make sure of something, so I don't stick my foot in my mouth,” She continued. “If that's a topic that's off limits, just say the word. We can talk musical theater and French film – you do like French film, don't you? - all night, if you'd prefer.”
Keith huffed out a small laugh. “Well, I don't know that I can say that I love French film, I've only seen a handful. I liked what I saw, though. And...” he trailed off, looking out at the passers-by on the street. “I think my job has taken over enough of my life; I don't want it to take over the pleasurable parts as well.”
Daisy smiled into her water glass, taking a delicate sip. “Oh. Well, then. Point taken.”
“Besides,” Keith said, nudging Daisy's foot under the table. “There's plenty of time for all of that to come out, right?”
“Oh, is there, now?”
Keith laughed as the waiter arrived with their food, giving Daisy a smug-looking grin. She didn't mind the interruption; she'd find a way to get Keith to expound on “plenty of time” at some point, she decided.
And if Keith didn't want to have his job take over the pleasurable parts of his life, then that just meant that Daisy had to focus on making sure that part of his life was satisfactory and fulfilling, didn't it?
-8-
They both decided the food lived up to the hype. Keith took the check, leaving Daisy protesting. “I asked you, Daisy. You can get the next one, if you'd like.”
Daisy sighed back into her chair, grinning. Already saying there would be a next time was a very good sign. “Okay, I would like that.”
It was still early evening, and they weren't ready to call it a day yet, so they took a walk to a nearby park. Keith was very interested in hearing about Daisy's family. They both took a seat on a bench, close enough to hint at their attraction to each other, but neither quite ready to make that commitment to physicality just yet.
Keith noted, “You don't talk about your mother. Just Anne.”
“Oh.” Daisy shook her head, taken aback for a moment. “She died suddenly when I was eight. It was just my dad and I for so long, and then Anne and Harry joined our family. Everyone I'm close to knows about her, so sometimes I forget there are other people who don't.”
“What was she like?”
One thing that Daisy enjoyed most about Keith, she was finding, was that when Keith asked a question, he really listened. It wasn't artificial courtesy, he genuinely wanted to know. It put Daisy at ease; her voice grew soft, her eyes looked off, and memories of bedtime stories and spicy-ginger perfume enveloped her.
“Keep in mind that I was really young when she died, so most of my memories are how I felt about her. I look a lot like my mother, but I have my dad's eyes. She was fun, loved to laugh. Apparently I inherited her laugh, as well. My dad was always the serious one, still is,” Daisy said, smiling at Keith. “But she just.... I don't know, she was just full. Filled to bursting. With happiness, love, fun.”
And she felt Keith take her hand and cover it with his own. It magnified those warm feelings from her past and turned them into something hopeful for the future.
“She sounds wonderful.”
Daisy turned to look at Keith, so much closer now. His whiskey-colored eyes were looking right into her, searching for something. Daisy's breath caught in her chest. “She was.”
Keith looked down at their hands and entwined his fingers with hers. Warm, firm, and it felt like a missing piece of Daisy was snapped back into place after a long absence. Keith absentmindedly stroked his thumb back and forth sending tiny tremors up her spine.
“Emmet tell you that my father died?” Barely a whisper, and Keith didn't bother looking Daisy's way for confirmation. “He was, uh, he was a good man. Well-respected.”
It was Daisy's turn to take Keith's hand into hers. She laid his hand on her knee, palm up, massaging both of her thumbs over the rough skin. Daisy watched the action, not looking up when she asked, “But?”
Keith exhaled slowly, murmuring contentment at a particular spot on the edge of his palm as Daisy stroked. “But. He was a hard man, too. I never knew where I stood with him. You know...hmm.” He shifted on the bench, aligning his thigh to Daisy's, shifting his torso so that his chest was almost resting on her shoulder. Daisy briefly noticed that the sun was setting, but for her the only things that existed were the two of them in this moment.
Daisy had the impression that he was building up to something important and most definitely painful. She waited patiently, happy that she could at least offer the small comfort of her attention and caring.
“I don't know if he was ever proud of me. If he was ever glad for just a moment that I followed in his footsteps. Some of the guys at the station that knew him best say he did, but if he doesn't say it...”
Daisy twined her fingers with Keith's; she turned to him and answered softly, “Then how do you know?”
“Right.” Keith searched her face. If it was approval, Daisy had plenty to give. He raked his fingers through the hair over her ear, sliding his hand down Daisy's neck to squeeze her shoulder.
"There's something about you,” he murmured.
Daisy could barely take in breath; they were so close, every nerve ending was on edge, tingling with want of more contact.
“Excuse me, can you help me find something?”
They were snapped out of their reverie by an older woman trying to find an address. Daisy blinked, and pulled herself back together, smoothing her dress and trying to normalize her heart-beat as Keith pointed out the directions for her, walking her forward a bit to show her the way.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling sweetly.
Keith sat back down, a little further back than Daisy would have liked. He was still smiling in a way that made Daisy's toes curl, so that was a positive. She looked down at Keith's hand, inhaled deeply and took it in hers. Keith gave it a squeeze and tugged Daisy to her feet.
“Why don't we go somewhere else where we can talk some more?”
Daisy bit her lip. “Sure, that would be lovely. Is there anywhere you had in mind?”
Swinging their hands a little between their bodies, Keith asked quietly, “Is it too presumptuous of me to ask if we could go back to your place?”
Swooning. This is what they mean by that word. “Not at all. We do have that bottle you brought, after all.”
They didn't talk much on the walk back, but that was fine by Daisy The sun had set completely, and Daisy loved that this “tour” was turning into something she found hopelessly romantic. They held hands the whole way.
When they walked into her home, Keith excused himself, giving Daisy the opportunity to send a frantic text to Bea.
DO NOT COME BACK FOR SEVERAL HOURS. You owe me.
Daisy found two wine glasses and the bottle opener. Her phone buzzed and skittered.
YAAAAAAAYYY!!!!
She smiled and switched her phone to mute.
-8-
Daisy was very glad that her apartment wasn't large enough for a full-sized couch. As the evening continued (and the wine bottle emptied) they moved progressively closer to one another, sharing little moments both sweet and painful from their past. The time Daisy lost her mother, Keith's own tribulations with his family.
How Daisy had been a bit of an outcast in high school, never truly fitting in. How Keith had mostly coasted through school on his charms and looks, was well liked, but never well loved.
They both had their knees curled up under themselves, shoes having been removed some time previously. Daisy had her arm on the back of the small sofa, fingers drawing circles into Keith's strong shoulder and down his arm, trailing back up to do it all over. She knew that she'd been lucky. She'd had her share of heartbreaks, her own troubles, but Keith seemed so completely alone.
Once the floodgates opened, Keith couldn't seem to stop talking. Daisy didn't mind in the slightest; she felt as if she was being bestowed a gift – trust.
“My father wasn't always around. He didn't mean--” Keith picked at the edge of the sofa cushion near Daisy's thigh. “It's just that I felt like they were always hanging in the air, if that makes sense.”
Daisy ran her hand down Keith's arm to give his hand a squeeze. Her heart ached for Keith, and she was reminded once again how lucky she was to have Robert Cutler for a father. “You wanted respect.”
Keith's breath hitched.
“You deserved it, Keith. He didn't have to march in a parade, but he should have let you know he respected you, that you mattered to him. I'm sorry for that.”
Keith laid his head on Daisy's arm at the back of the sofa. “Why do I feel so comfortable with you?”
Here was someone so kind, so interesting, so easy to care for, and he was interested in her. It made Daisy's head spin. It led her to be more bold than she had been in the past; Keith seemed to be offering something that Daisy had been searching for, and something about him made her feel safe enough to ask for it. She cupped Keith's cheek, lightly running her hand down the cord of muscle in his neck and laid it flat on Keith's chest. He trapped her hand with his own, forcing her to move in closer.
“I don't know,” she said softly. “But I feel the same with you.”
No quips to lighten the mood, no sense of fear that this would go horribly, horribly wrong, Daisy just felt solid. Safe. Wanted. They leaned in at the same time, meeting in the middle with a soft kiss. Daisy pulled away, stroking Keith's cheek with the back of her fingers, asking “Is this all right?”
Keith answered with a more forceful kiss, holding Daisy's face as his lips answered yes, yes. Daisy kept her hand on Keith's chest but circled her other arm around his waist, wanting to be closer, to feel as much as she could.
Keith eventually pulled back, his eyes fixed on her lips. Her breath caught, worried that Keith wanted to stop.
“What did I do,” Keith murmured, “to have this, you.” He pulled back again, thumbs stroking along her cheekbones. Daisy felt both light-headed and solidly affixed to every point in her body that was touching Keith's.
He lifted Daisy's hand from his shirt and held it, clutching it to his chest. Daisy had wanted romance, had dreamed of finding a man that was a gentleman, was kind and handsome, and somehow the very embodiment of what she'd been searching for had come to her, lights flashing, to make sure she got the point.
Daisy brought their foreheads together, saying, “Are you sure you're not just some dream I'm having? Wait, don't tell me if you're not.” She kissed Keith again, murmuring “Five more minutes, dad,” pleased when she felt Keith smile against her mouth before kissing her again.
He finally broke the kiss, resting his head on the back of the sofa again and looking up at Daisy with half-lidded eyes and a faint smile. “Really, what did I do?” Keith asked again, a tender expression on his face as he drew patterns with his fingertips on Daisy's arm.
Daisy exhaled a small laugh, not understanding the question but hardly caring about anything other than the waves of elation washing over her. It wasn't just the kissing; it was something about who Keith was, how Daisy felt with him. Keith felt like...more. It was more than a nice date with a nice man, more than sweet kisses with someone that found her attractive, more than just this moment.
Daisy wanted to laugh, she wanted to flash-forward years to when they were older and happy together, wanted to not stop kissing him ever, wanted to relive every moment from today.
“You know, Captain, you're pretty good at that.”
Keith ducked his head, chuckling. “Well,” he said, glancing up at Daisy with ridiculously thick and long lashes, sending her heart into a tailspin. “You're not too bad yourself.”
“Please say that it's not just me,” Daisy asked, burying her face in Keith's neck.
Keith, who had been running his hands in soothing patterns up and down her back, stopped and circled his arms tightly around Daisy, holding her close. “No, it's not just you.”
Daisy moved to her side, propping herself up by her elbow, her fingers gently smoothing back Keith's hair. “I just...,” she exhaled, closing her eyes for a minute to brace herself. “I don't normally bring men back to my apartment on the first date. Then again, I haven't had a first date in some time.”
“Idiots,” Keith murmured, kissing the inside of Daisy's wrist.
Oh, she was falling hard. It was both thrilling and terrifying. Daisy raised her eyebrows at Keith, waiting.
“Oh. Well, no. I don't normally do this either. And it's been a long time for me, too. Maybe...” Keith trailed off, and Daisy felt that he was looking right into her, looking for something. “Maybe I was supposed to wait. For this. You.”
Daisy blushed to her roots and dropped her forehead against Keith's neck again. She huffed out a small laugh. “You know, from anyone else that would sound like such a line.”
She felt Keith stiffen; Daisy raised her head and saw Keith with such a sad expression that she cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly once, twice.
“It's not,” Keith insisted.
She laid her hand over Keith's heart, fingers flexing, feeling the well worn cotton of Keith's Polo. “I know.” She caught his eye and repeated, “I know. That's...well. I feel a little out of my depth, here. That's all.”
“You're not the only one,” Keith chuckled, drawing his fingertips up and down Daisy's arms, sending shivers up her back, prickling her scalp. “Any idea of what we do now?”
Daisy laughed then, a good laugh that came from some place inside her where joy hadn't found an outlet until now. “Well, I can think of a few things, but they all require a few more dates. Call me old fashioned.”
Keith held her closer, kissing her hair. She could feel the warmth of his breath ruffling it. “I like that about you. I'm a little old fashioned, too. I want to get to know you more.”
Daisy settled in further, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of being held, of being with someone that was so good and wanted her.
“I...I worry about you and my job, though,” Keith said.
Daisy played with the front placket of Keith's shirt, toying with the smattering of hair curled in the small amount of bare skin he was showing. Keith's job was something they had to talk about, she knew that. She had knots in stomach, immediately fearing that Keith wouldn't want to pursue anything from the tone of worry in his voice. “Because of the hours? Or the danger? Or is it the horrid poly-blend trousers? Because I'll be honest: I never thought I'd date a man that wore synthetic fibers, it's going to be quite a challenge.”
Keith's chest bounced up and down with his laugh. “Yep. Funny, too.”
There was that “too” again. Daisy smiled into his chest, savoring the warmth for a moment longer. She sat up, pulling Keith to sitting as well. She took his hands, thumbs running back and forth over the backs where there was a light dusting of hair just beyond Keith's wrists.
“Really, though. Tell me about it.”
Watching their hands for a moment, Keith opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if trying to find the right words. Part of Daisy felt foolish to have such a serious discussion about a potential future with this man she was just getting to know, but another part – and fortunately it had a stronger voice – thrilled that Keith wasn't immune to whatever it was that was happening between them. She had had crushes in the past, she'd imagined that she loved or could love others, but the feelings she had at this moment made those look foolish in comparison. She felt exhilarated, of course, like her heart was flying, but she also felt solidly affixed at the same time.
“We die, you know. And...it's terrible when it happens.”
An icy chill crept down Daisy's back, and her hands shook for just a brief moment; Keith noticed. He gave her hands a squeeze and released them, resting his elbow on the back of the sofa and tucked the other in between the cushion and his body, closed off. Daisy wanted to grab him, pull him back, hold on and never let go. She did none of those things, however. She tried to really think about this. It was hard when Keith was sitting there, hair rumpled, lips swollen and pink and close enough to pull back for more kissing.
“Is--” Daisy asked, slightly nervous. “--is that how your father died, Keith?” She reached over then, she couldn't help herself, and cupped Keith's cheek, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. “Is that why you don't talk about your mother?”
Keith closed his eyes, holding her hand in place before kissing her palm. “Yes. And...yes.”
“Do you want to tell me about it? So that--” Daisy bit her lip wanting to choose carefully. “--so that I can understand?”
Head tilted and resting on his hand, Keith just held Daisy's gaze, jaw muscles working. “No,” he breathed, “but I feel like I need to, at some point. Mostly, I just don't want to fall any hard--” Keith blushed, smiling, and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don't want there to be any illusions. I really like you, Daisy. I've not felt this...hopeful, like I'm waking up, in honestly, I don't know how long. You're making me want to try--”
Daisy felt as if her heart would pound right through her ribcage. No, Keith definitely wasn't immune to whatever it was between them. But. We die. “You want to try, what?”
“This,” Keith answered, pointing between the two of them. “I've not even dated since, well, since before my father died. But you have to know, Daisy, that anytime we get a call, that it could be it. That's--” He sighed, running his hand over his face, and looking so lonely Daisy couldn't hold off her impulse any longer. She slipped her hand behind his neck, bringing their foreheads together, needing to touch him.
“I'm not going to say that's not a terrifying thought.” Daisy knew she sounded desperate and afraid, but she wanted to let Keith know that she was trying to understand. “But you don't always. It's not always the worst thing. After all, you got a call that brought you to me.”
They kissed then, both needing the connection. It was too much, Daisy thought. Oh, Keith as more, all right. But she needed to be clear that with all of the wonderful things Keith had going for her, there was the other. We die, you know.
“I think I could do this all night, holding you,” Keith whispered.
Daisy laid her head on his shoulder. “That would be nice.”
“But,” he sighed, kissing her forehead. “I know that it's getting late, and someone told me a few days ago how important their beauty sleep was.”
Laughing, she leaned back. “I don't want you to go, but I understand. I think I have a lot to think about.”
Keith looked as if he was closing off again, hurt creeping back into his eyes, so Daisy leaned in, breathing softly along his lips. “I want to make sure this is as worth it as I think it is.” She kissed him, just a gentle press of her lips, but she felt Keith sag back against her, kissing back.
“I wasn't kidding about doing this all night, but I'm on shift tomorrow, so I really should get some rest, too.”
Daisy nodded, pulling Keith to his feet and wrapping her arms around him. Daisy swayed and walked them to the front door, still holding Keith in her arms. She reached behind and turned the knob to open the door, planting a final kiss on his neck. “Sorry. I wasn't finished doing that, yet.” Daisy knew she had a silly smile on her face, but she couldn't help it. Keith made her feel ridiculously happy. Definitely something to think about.
Pausing in the doorway, Keith looked at Daisy, smiling as well. “I don't think I am, either.”
Daisy needed to make a point of holding on to things when she was around him, because she was about to swoon yet again. I could get used to seeing that smile. Daisy sighed, “Good night.”
“'Night, Daisy Call you later?”
“You better.”
Keith hopped back up to the top of the stoop and lightly kissed the corner of Daisy's mouth. “Sweet dreams.”
Daisy reminded herself to exhale. “They will be.”
She stayed in the door, watching Keith walk away. And it's terrible when it happens.
So much for her sweet dreams.
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Post by HburgEagle44 on Jun 13, 2014 2:26:22 GMT -5
Oof. Intense. Good updates
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