[ He is good to her, he knows, but she's good to him too. She's good for him. It's been an embarrassingly long time since he's had someone touch him with tenderness and care, and even if they haven't Talked About Things, he's so grateful to have her that he'll take anything she wants to give him.
Keep it together, Matthew. Play it cool. ]
You already have.
[ Whoops, did he make it uncomfortably emotional there? It just slipped out, honest. ]
she's quiet for a moment, the uncharacteristic delay all too obvious, but after fifteen minutes or so (plenty of time to overthink), a message eventually comes through. ]
[ The last time his dick slipped out in her presence it worked out pretty well for them both, so... ]
Never too busy for you, sweetheart.
[ Patently untrue, as loath as he is to admit it. There are times when he is too busy to see her, times when he has to work, or has to see his family, or has to just go home already instead of spending all his time at the university. But he can absolutely make time for her this weekend, even if he has to move other things around.
[ as a child, daisy had wondered who she was. where she came from, what kind of family she might have had, what her mother or her father might have looked like or how they lived or what they filled their time with. as an orphan without any history or even a birth certificate to prove her name, there was no public record to look into, no social media to stalk — all she had was the imprint of a flower on a gold chain and a generic last name given to her upon arrival to saint agnes.
but some things were obvious. the shape of her eyes, the color of her skin, the way she saw herself reflected in the girls who wandered the streets of chinatown — always almost, never quite. when she was younger, still debating the merits of public school educations, daisy had picked up odd jobs on those streets. dog walking, courier services, trash delivery: anything she could do under the table for cash, anonymous and simple.
one of those jobs had found her on the steps of nom wah, an old-fashioned tea parlor deep in the heart of chinatown, and after a few weeks of lingering in the kitchen, they'd invited her to a booth in the back, a place where she could slowly but surely learn the foods of a world she might have belonged in. it's to nom wah she goes almost every saturday, sitting in the same corner booth for hours, her laptop and notes splayed out on the oversized table — and though she doesn't order much, she never leaves hungry.
and it's to nom wah she'll take him, if he'll go. ]
11th and 21st 11:00 am
[ it'd be too obvious to meet him at the lobby of her apartment building, too many eyes around. better to meet him at the nearby subway station, where they can ride the line outside the immediate area of the school in relative anonymity. ]
[ Hopefully Daisy is ready for Matthew to be both absolutely hopeless at figuring out the tiny dumplings and chopsticks and woven steam baskets, as well as embarrassingly open about how touched he is that she's sharing a part of her like this. He hasn't ever asked her too many probing questions about her family or her past, appreciating the fact that she doesn't ask him about any of that either, but he has absolutely no frame of reference for not knowing about who you are.
His family can trace their ancestry back to the Mayflower, for god's sake. Even further, if they try.
He will gladly meet her at the subway station and accompany her to her secret hideaway, and make patently obvious cow eyes in her direction the entire time. ]
[ thank god for text. he can't see the way her face tucks down, the way she smiles all warm and pleased and relieved. ]
try not to miss me too much until then.
[ blame her computer forensics class and the fact that she's procrastinated like crazy on this project for why she won't leave her room until saturday morning... ]
[ It's fine, he's got a lot of grading he's been putting off so he can swan about with her, so he can keep himself comfortably busy until Saturday. He'll still text her a lot between now and then, of course. ]
[ he wants her to graduate, doesn't he? and if she doesn't stay away, how's he going to cope with her just sitting around in his sweatshirt angry typing on her keyboard ... ]
[ He's joking. He smoked for most of his early career and has a full goddamn beard, not to mention the whole tall-and-broad-shouldered thing. Nobody could confuse him as looking "boyish."
There's a reason he doesn't shave any more and only part of it is laziness. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ in more ways than just this single date night idea. if she was the kind of person to gush, maybe she'd tell him all about them. ]
how can i ever repay you?
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Keep it together, Matthew. Play it cool. ]
You already have.
[ Whoops, did he make it uncomfortably emotional there? It just slipped out, honest. ]
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she's quiet for a moment, the uncharacteristic delay all too obvious, but after fifteen minutes or so (plenty of time to overthink), a message eventually comes through. ]
are you busy on saturday?
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Never too busy for you, sweetheart.
[ Patently untrue, as loath as he is to admit it. There are times when he is too busy to see her, times when he has to work, or has to see his family, or has to just go home already instead of spending all his time at the university. But he can absolutely make time for her this weekend, even if he has to move other things around.
She's worth it. ]
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but some things were obvious. the shape of her eyes, the color of her skin, the way she saw herself reflected in the girls who wandered the streets of chinatown — always almost, never quite. when she was younger, still debating the merits of public school educations, daisy had picked up odd jobs on those streets. dog walking, courier services, trash delivery: anything she could do under the table for cash, anonymous and simple.
one of those jobs had found her on the steps of nom wah, an old-fashioned tea parlor deep in the heart of chinatown, and after a few weeks of lingering in the kitchen, they'd invited her to a booth in the back, a place where she could slowly but surely learn the foods of a world she might have belonged in. it's to nom wah she goes almost every saturday, sitting in the same corner booth for hours, her laptop and notes splayed out on the oversized table — and though she doesn't order much, she never leaves hungry.
and it's to nom wah she'll take him, if he'll go. ]
11th and 21st
11:00 am
[ it'd be too obvious to meet him at the lobby of her apartment building, too many eyes around. better to meet him at the nearby subway station, where they can ride the line outside the immediate area of the school in relative anonymity. ]
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His family can trace their ancestry back to the Mayflower, for god's sake. Even further, if they try.
He will gladly meet her at the subway station and accompany her to her secret hideaway, and make patently obvious cow eyes in her direction the entire time. ]
I'll be there.
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try not to miss me too much until then.
[ blame her computer forensics class and the fact that she's procrastinated like crazy on this project for why she won't leave her room until saturday morning... ]
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[ It's fine, he's got a lot of grading he's been putting off so he can swan about with her, so he can keep himself comfortably busy until Saturday. He'll still text her a lot between now and then, of course. ]
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don't be cute.
[ it makes it hard for her to stay away. ]
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Also impossible.
[ What on earth makes her think he wants her to stay away? ]
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you and your boyish good looks.
[ he wants her to graduate, doesn't he? and if she doesn't stay away, how's he going to cope with her just sitting around in his sweatshirt angry typing on her keyboard ... ]
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[ He's joking. He smoked for most of his early career and has a full goddamn beard, not to mention the whole tall-and-broad-shouldered thing. Nobody could confuse him as looking "boyish."
There's a reason he doesn't shave any more and only part of it is laziness. ]
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you could always come keep me company while i wait for my code to compile
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Should I bother bringing any of my grading?
[ Look. He knows what's up, alright. ]
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[ that's practical, right? ]
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[ Very practical. ]
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[ about anything other than what he's doing, anyway ]
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[ is that while he's reciting chaucer, or all the time? ]
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[ Yes, yes he is. For her at least. ]
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[ his mouth is very good at getting her off. that's the compliment. ]
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[ He knows. He just thinks it's cute to play dense. ]
A compliment immediately followed by an insult, I see how it goes.
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i wouldn't want your head to get too big, it might not fit between my legs anymore
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[ She's good for his ego. ]
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[ good thing he has her, full stop. ]
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