[ He's suspicious, but he's also on a deadline, so he lets the matter go. For now.
Since Matthew actually enjoys his job, and the work he does for it, it's not like getting ready for his presentation is a hardship. He just hasn't gotten around to actually writing any of his thoughts down, which is a hassle, but once he gets going, he manages to knock it out quickly and even nips down to the hotel's office suite to print out all his notes and various paperwork.
Then he has his time up on stage presenting his thoughts to a room full of like-minded educators, and then there's dinner after, and then drinks with some of his colleagues from other schools he hasn't seen since last year...
It's late, by the time he gets up to his room, and he's had just enough whiskey to make him feel loose-limbed and lethargic, but not enough to make him want to go to bed. So he picks up his phone, just like he said he would, and texts Daisy to see if she's still awake. ]
[ she's... not asleep, technically. she's dozing, head resting on a pile of pillows with his sweater draped over top, eyes half-shut as a movie plays on netflix on her laptop. she's not asleep, but she's not totally awake either.
which is why there's a few minutes delay before her mind actually registers that, yes, the tritone chime of her phone was a thing in the real world and not just in her dreams, and yes, she should get up and answer it. ]
[ He frowns suspiciously down at his phone when it finally chimes with a response, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, but doesn't immediately call her a liar. ]
[ Spitting and rinsing, Matt finishes brushing his teeth and then quickly swipes one of the hotel wash cloths over his face before turning back to his room and moving back to his bed so he can flop down on it and pull up Daisy's contact details on his phone.
Smiling at the photo he took of her for her little icon, he hits dial and waits for her to pick up. ]
I'm a child of the nineties, honey, I know what watching Bob Ross tutorials will do to you.
[ Actually, he's more of a child of the eighties, but whatever. He was young enough to watch PBS growing up, he knows what The Joy of Painting is good for. Nap time. ]
It was good. I got some interesting feedback from some colleagues of mine that I need to work into the final product. How's your code coming along?
[ she doesn't respond to that dig, but she doesn't have to. the soft little yawn she gives as she shifts to sit upright, sweatshirt pulled into her lap for her hands to rest in, does all the talking for her on that front. ]
I finished it about an hour ago. All done.
[ earlier than expected, but she'd figured out a better way to do it than what was detailed in the assignment packet. no surprise there; the database administration course was taught by an adjunct as old as time. he probably wrote the SOP back when DOS was the way of the world. ]
You sound good. [ relaxed. happy. she likes that on him. ] You have fun with your nerd friends?
[ He can't see her, but he can hear a faint rustling on her end, and since he knows how much she likes to wear his clothes, he can imagine how she looks wrapped up in something she's stolen from him, oversized and cozy and sleep-warm.
Wow. He misses her. A lot. ]
Good for you.
[ He doesn't understand what she does at all, but there's still that warm glow of pride in his voice when she tells him she's already finished the project she was working on. He doesn't have to be able to understand the specifics of coding or software or cyber security to know that she's brilliant at it, and she'll make waves in that world long before she graduates. He can feel it. ]
Yeah, I had fun. I mean, I could think of more fun ways to spend an evening, but it was nice to catch up with everyone again and complain about our course loads. [ And students, but Matt is feeling pretty charitable to his students at the moment, chiefly thanks to one particular student. ]
Mm, [ a soft hum of approval, quiet in her throat, as daisy pulls the sweatshirt on. it takes a minute to adjust, to pull the sleeves up and tuck the hood behind her; if she leaves it full out, she won't be able to type or see, and neither are great options. even if he is on speaker phone. ]
You didn't miss much. It's been rainy.
[ everyone panics in the rain, scurrying inside as soon as the water starts to fall; from inside her room, daisy watched the rain pound against the windows, careful eyes tracking the path of the lightning as it struck in the distance. ]
But I miss you.
[ she's too sleepy to bite her tongue, too warm and cozy to care. maybe that's stupid to say out loud when they're not anything specific to each other, but she does. and she wants to tell him, so she does. ]
[ He lies there in his sterile hotel bed and listens to Daisy hum, the continued rustling from her end making him imagine her getting nice and cozy, maybe pulling up a blanket or snuggling into the couch cushions. If she were here, she could be making those rustling noises right up against him instead, curling in against his side, her head a sleepy weight on his shoulder.
He probably shouldn't be imagining that. It seems...too intimate. ]
Yeah, it's been raining here too. I think it's the tail end of some tropical storm or something, we've been inside all day so I haven't really paid attention. [ Trapped in the hotel's conference center, he hasn't really been too concerned with what the weather is like outside. It's cool and comfortable inside in the air conditioning, and that's what matters.
He sighs quietly when she confesses that she misses him, something twisting in his chest. ]
[ he tells her he misses her, and the bed suddenly spills out around her, too much space even with pillows and electronics sprawled out around. she's drowning in it. he misses her, and in that moment, all she wants is to be right where he's at, to trade the warmth of his sweatshirt for the heat of his skin, to press her cheek against his chest and hear his heartbeat thumping underneath instead of just the low echo of his breathing through the phone.
she wants, and the sharpness of that wanting is an ache she doesn't know what to do with; in its wake, she blows out a breath, fingertips curling into the sleeve of the sweater, her voice a little tight when she finally pipes back up again. ]
[ It may be selfish, but she's not alone in her wanting.
He's had this conference booked for a whole year, the long weekend marked off in his calendar in green highlighter, and they've only been doing...this thing for a few weeks. Long enough to settle into a comfortable rhythm of meeting up regularly, their awkward little edges smoothed out through a growing familiarity, and he's stunned to realize that he does miss her, and not just in the idle way you might miss a close friend (or casual romantic partner).
He wants her here beside him, so he can turn to her and see the edge of her smile, so he can lean in and whisper something to her, so he can touch her wrist and smell her hair and feel her warm weight beside him in this horrible hotel bed. ]
I'm going to Chicago to talk at NIU at the beginning of December. If you're not busy with finals...
[ She could come with him. They could get her a plane ticket, and she could come to the city with him, where nobody knows who they are, and he could hold her hand if he wanted to, could take her to art galleries, or out for dinner, and they could play at being tourists in someone else's city for a little while. ]
[ maybe that comes out too fast. maybe it's reckless and stupid and desperately, achingly familiar, but the words spill out the second the pause enters the conversation, and daisy doesn't take them back.
she isn't, though. unlike poetry analysis or history exams, her coursework ends in projects, submitted and reviewed a week prior to the end of the semester, with allowances for one digital revision if necessary. there's no in-person requirement, no awkwardly scheduled exams in large rooms. just the work that must be done, and if it isn't by then, a weekend in december wouldn't have saved her regardless. ]
My capstone's due end of November. [ she says it both to reassure him and to remind herself. ] I could probably hitch a ride.
[ it doesn't occur to her to think of buying a plane ticket. she is, logically speaking, aware that planes go between the city and chicago literally a dozen times a day, but that's an expense she would never justify for herself — and certainly not one she would think of asking him to justify on her behalf.
it also doesn't occur to her that it's not out of the ordinary for university funding of conferences to cover transportation for an attendant's plus one — but how would she know that. ]
[ Her response comes almost before he's finished speaking, and Matt can't help the relieved little exhalation that slips past his lips when he hears her agree almost instantly to his suggestion. ]
Good. That's...that's good.
[ He also speaks suspiciously fast, but it's out there now, it's too late to take it back.
Now that they're both in agreement, she'll come with him for his next conference, it's a little easier to bear the thought of staying in this featureless hotel room for another two nights. He'll be lonely — how funny, that he's aware of how lonely he feels now, when sleeping on his own hasn't bothered him for over a year, when they haven't even slept in the same bed together before now anyway — but he has coming back to her to look forward to. That'll help. ]
You should make a list of what you want to see and do while we're there.
It's your trip. [ why isn't he making a list? she's just going along for the ride, right? a plus one doesn't necessitate changing of plans or re-adjusting schedules, not when his speaking engagement is the point of the visit. ] What about your list?
[ she'd be happy to do anything with him. just being in the city with him, actually with him, not having to lock doors behind them or walk appropriately apart, is enough for her. she doesn't need a special expedition or earmarked destinations to enjoy her time. hell, she'd be satisfied just hanging around in his hotel room, surfing free wifi, and waiting for him to come back after a day of very important speaking engagements to rapt audiences in the windy city. ]
If you tell me when you're supposed to fly in, I can meet you somewhere.
[ like, the parking lot of the airport or wherever his hotel is or just under the ... sign?? does chicago have a sign? maybe she should google that. she's never been there. ]
I've been to Chicago before. You should make a list, we'll do the things you want to do.
[ Honestly, he'll be busy with work stuff for a large chunk of the trip, which is why Julie doesn't go with him any more. She's busy with her own life, and she often found being left to her own devices while he sequesters himself in a room with other nerds to talk about metaphor usage in turn of the century literature incredibly boring. If Daisy wants to come with him, she's more than welcome to, but she might as well decide what she wants to do and go do it. He'll come along when he's able.
He frowns at the darkened hotel room at large for a moment before turning on his bed to frown at his phone in particular. ]
I mean, I know December tends to be a peak traveling month, but I'm pretty sure we can get you a ticket on the same flight as me... [ It might be expensive, since it's sort of last minute, but better now than in December. He's got a rewards card, he can probably scrape together the miles to take care of it. ] I don't think we'll be sitting together, but it's a short flight. I think we'll survive.
[ for a brief snippet of time, there is only quiet on daisy's end of the line. or, rather, there's no talking, but there's enough noise to ensure no one assumes the call was dropped. it's just the noise of daisy shuffling, picking up her laptop and beginning to tap on the keys and the touchpad, slow at first and then more enthusiastically as she picks up steam. ]
Matt... [ she blows out a breath, but it's not annoyance or irritation that colors her voice. it's a nervous, anxious energy as she peers at a flight pricing graph. he hadn't told her the dates, but she does know when finals are — and knowing the type of conference he'd be attending makes it a lot easier to cross-reference the topic and the destination to find the right one. ] Jesus, this is highway robbery.
[ who on earth would pay two hundred dollars to sit on a plane? ]
You know I was just gonna hitch a ride, right? Like, there's an app for that and everything, I can be there in two days at the most.
[ He's not worried the call has dropped; while Matt may be something of a Luddite — at least, as much as any millennial can claim to be a Luddite in this day and age — he knows Daisy is on the cutting edge of tech in a way he could never hope to be, so he assumes her phones are always up to the task of maintaining a connection. He is a little curious as to why she's suddenly stopped talking to him, but the clack of computer keys is a familiar sound to someone in academia, so he assumes she's researching stuff to do in Chicago.
He doesn't mind sitting on the phone with her in silence for a little while.
When she starts talking again, he realizes maybe she was researching something else. He's about to open his mouth to ask her how much it's displaying for when she continues, and his thoughts screech to a halt. ]
What? [ He knows ride-sharing is a thing, he's not stupid. But there's a difference between Ubering somewhere, where drivers have ratings and presumably some sort of oversight, and just...getting into someone's car. ] You can't hitch hike to Chicago!
You can totally hitch hike to Chicago, what are you talking about?
[ she doesn't completely connect the dots that by saying you can't, he's saying that's not safe and i don't want you to do that. she thinks he's just... unaware, in the same way that he was unaware that you could redirect internet traffic over a vpn in order to watch international netflix streams or that it was possible to set up an if/then protocol to turn his lights on when he dialed a number on his phone.
technology, she figures, is the missing link here. functional capacity, not the safety ratings or rationality behind it. ]
I mean, it's not a direct shot or anything, but you can totally do it. I used to pick up people in my van all the time to make a little money.
[ not for gas, but for food. so she wouldn't starve. but that's a little... heavy... for this conversation. ]
[ Matt can tell, by the tone of her voice, that Daisy doesn't understand why he thinks this is something she shouldn't do.
He, on the other hand, doesn't know how he's supposed to explain to her that climbing into other people's vehicles is dangerous. Especially when she tells him that she used to give people rides. He sits in silence for a moment, staring at his phone, dumbfounded, before he clears his throat and does his best to explain himself without coming across as condescending or talking down to her like she's an idiot child.
Even if he kind of wants to yell at her like she's one of his relatives. ]
It's dangerous to get in a stranger's vehicle, especially for a single female, especially for a long haul like that. [ That was okay, right? ] I will gladly buy you a plane ticket. It's the simplest solution.
I don't — [ have that kind of money, she nearly says, but she's stopped in her tracks by his offer. two hundred dollars for a plane ticket may be a reasonable price point for the rest of the world, but for daisy, that's an absurd luxury she'd never allow herself. not when the roof over her head or the food in her pantry weren't guaranteed, not when she couldn't be sure some emergency wouldn't befall her in between then and now.
but she doesn't know how to explain that to him. she doesn't know how to say, i used to be homeless on the street for two years and then i bought a van and i lived off the money i could make driving people around as an unregistered taxi and whatever i could steal to resell at a pawn shop. she doesn't know how to explain that his expectations of safety come from a place she never knew, an expectation that there was always a more reasonable solution or a more comfortable one, even if it meant stretching a little to get there.
and she doesn't know that he wants to know all of that about her, anyway. why would he? she might be grown up enough now to dress herself in clothes that fit, she may have pocketed enough money in between semesters to buy an imported knockoff smartphone, but she wasn't comfortable. not the way her roommate or her fellow students or her professors were, anyway.
but that's not his fault, and she doesn't want to ruin her chance to talk to him by yelling at him for something he doesn't understand. not tonight. not when she misses him so much it feels like a piece of her's been cut out and taken away, a feeling that she keeps telling herself is way too strong for what's only been a few weeks of casual meetings and rushed sex in offices and back rooms.
no, it's too much. to feel, to explain. she can only blow out a breath, a click and a rustle of fabric echoing the closing and pushing away of her laptop, and lean up against the wall behind her bed, head thumping gently against the chipped paint. ]
That's the only way I could have gone. [ okay, she could have burned her budget for the month, but that's stupid. ] I want to, I do, I just —
[ There's a multitude of words not being said right now, he can almost feel the physical weight of them even just from the tone of her silence. He doesn't have to look at her to know that some complicated mix of emotions is currently playing over her face, even though he can't tell what it is.
It stops him from getting belligerent about this; obviously, there's a reason Daisy is resisting him buying her a plane ticket, and it's not just her being polite. ]
Honey. [ His voice is low, gentle. The way you'd talk to a spooked animal, or a child that's woken up from a nightmare. ] It's okay.
[ He doesn't understand why she can't get a plane ticket, or why she won't entertain the idea of him getting her one. She's right. He doesn't understand her financial baggage, her background, anything like that. She's never brought it up before, and he comes from the sort of comfortable middle-class anglo-saxon lifestyle that means he's had the privilege to never worry about where his next meal came from. Sure, he has a big family, and money was always a little tight, but he was never homeless, never had to worry that he wouldn't be able to find warm clothes when it was cold, never had to try and live off Top Ramen and day-old bread. ]
You don't need to repay me. [ It's only two hundred dollars. At least he's smart enough not to say that out loud. He has a feeling it won't go over well. ] I've got a miles card. I can scrape together enough points for a ticket for you.
[ and, for a second, that's all she says, her mouth otherwise occupied in letting out a shaky exhale, one that's (only somewhat successfully) attempted to be muffled by a sweatshirt-sleeve-clad hand. she just says okay, and resists the urge to explain all the hesitation and anxiety and nervous, self-destructive thoughts that are rattling in her brain.
because, no matter how okay it is, no matter how gently he tells her that he can afford this and he wants to do this and that he wants to bring her along, the sad truth is daisy can't repay him. not in funds, not in favors, not in anything she knows as valuable or worthwhile or important.
sure, she can keep him company. she can make him feel good. she can ease his stress after a long day, make him smile when he's frustrated; she can let him burn off steam when he needs something real under his hands, something pliant and obedient and wanting.
but those things aren't the same. and that's not what he's doing, either. he's not paying her for her company. he's doing this to be nice, and she doesn't know how to repay that. not really. ]
I really wish I could see you right now.
[ not the other way around. she doesn't necessarily think he needs to see her. but she can't really fight down the desire to tuck herself into his space, to find that solid reassurance, familiar now in other contexts. she wants to be held, to be cradled: she wants to feel the way his arms wrap around her when she sits in his lap, strong and steady and sure, the way his chin tucks into her hair, letting her face find purchase against his chest.
she just wants to be with him, and she isn't, and the realization aches like an open wound. ]
[ This is a conversation they clearly should be having face to face, when he can see what expression she's wearing and doesn't have to guess based on the muffled sounds coming from his tinny iPhone speakers. Is she sighing? Is she huffing? Is she rolling over and burying her face in her pillows so whatever noises she wants to make can't get free?
He wants to be able to touch her, to stroke his hand down her arm or to card his fingers through her hair, to hold her close against his chest the way he knows she likes. He likes it too, honestly, he's not just being altruistic when he wraps his arms around her and lets her put her face into his chest. It's been a long time since someone turned to him for comfort, and right now feels like a moment that desperately needs some comfort inserted into it.
How can he tell her that the money doesn't matter to him? Objectively, two hundred dollars matters. Of course it does. He has to pay over two grand every month to repay his student loans, on top of the rent he and Julie pay for their place, on top of all his other expenses. Two hundred dollars matters. But he's willing to tighten his belt in other arenas so that he can afford this one indulgence, so that he can take her out to Chicago with him and he can show her a good time, so they can spend time together that isn't snatched between classes, so that he doesn't have to lock the door behind her or put his palm over her mouth to keep her quiet while he touches her. He wants to not have to look over his shoulder, to smile at her the way she makes him want to, to put his arm around her and kiss her whenever the spirit moves him regardless of who's watching.
She means so much to him, but that's not something he can articulate over the phone. ]
I know, baby. [ He'd almost forgotten how it felt to feel someone else's heart beating against his skin, and he wants. ] It's only two more days, though, then I'll be back in town and you can see me whenever you want. You'll be sick of me in no time.
[ he calls her baby and she chokes out a sound that's somewhere in between a laugh and a sob, her whole brain seemingly short-circuiting on how nice that sounds even through the speakers of her phone. it's not the first time he's called her a pet name, not even in the first time in conversation — but baby is different. baby is soft and affectionate, intimate and gentle; it's not teasing or light the way babe rolls off his tongue or slides into a text.
it's — god, it sounds so good, she just wants to hear him say it again. ]
I'm not gonna get sick of you.
[ she can almost guarantee that it'll be the other way around. he'll get sick of her, he'll get tired of her, he'll learn too much and walk away because that's too much to handle. he'll change his mind or get back with his wife or something. it's too good a dream to even consider that he won't. ]
I want to see you when you get off the plane.
[ like, immediately. in a dream world, she'd pull a scene from a movie and kiss him at the gate. the image flashes and burns into her retinas before she has a chance to shove it down. she can't do that, can she? she can't meet him at the gate like she has a right to his time, like she belongs there, waiting for him. it's a sobering thought. ]
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[ she's... definitely gonna be something. maybe that something is startled awake by the buzz of her phone after she drops it on her face, though. ]
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[ He's suspicious, but he's also on a deadline, so he lets the matter go. For now.
Since Matthew actually enjoys his job, and the work he does for it, it's not like getting ready for his presentation is a hardship. He just hasn't gotten around to actually writing any of his thoughts down, which is a hassle, but once he gets going, he manages to knock it out quickly and even nips down to the hotel's office suite to print out all his notes and various paperwork.
Then he has his time up on stage presenting his thoughts to a room full of like-minded educators, and then there's dinner after, and then drinks with some of his colleagues from other schools he hasn't seen since last year...
It's late, by the time he gets up to his room, and he's had just enough whiskey to make him feel loose-limbed and lethargic, but not enough to make him want to go to bed. So he picks up his phone, just like he said he would, and texts Daisy to see if she's still awake. ]
Hey babe. You up?
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which is why there's a few minutes delay before her mind actually registers that, yes, the tritone chime of her phone was a thing in the real world and not just in her dreams, and yes, she should get up and answer it. ]
hi 😊
[ totally drowsy, if nothing else ]
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Are you actually up or did I just wake you?
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[ she didn't go to bed, so technically, she's not lying. she was just in bed, and very comfortable, and daydreaming a little. night dreaming?
not asleep. that's her story, and she's sticking to it. ]
how was your presentation?
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Smiling at the photo he took of her for her little icon, he hits dial and waits for her to pick up. ]
I'm a child of the nineties, honey, I know what watching Bob Ross tutorials will do to you.
[ Actually, he's more of a child of the eighties, but whatever. He was young enough to watch PBS growing up, he knows what The Joy of Painting is good for. Nap time. ]
It was good. I got some interesting feedback from some colleagues of mine that I need to work into the final product. How's your code coming along?
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I finished it about an hour ago. All done.
[ earlier than expected, but she'd figured out a better way to do it than what was detailed in the assignment packet. no surprise there; the database administration course was taught by an adjunct as old as time. he probably wrote the SOP back when DOS was the way of the world. ]
You sound good. [ relaxed. happy. she likes that on him. ] You have fun with your nerd friends?
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Wow. He misses her. A lot. ]
Good for you.
[ He doesn't understand what she does at all, but there's still that warm glow of pride in his voice when she tells him she's already finished the project she was working on. He doesn't have to be able to understand the specifics of coding or software or cyber security to know that she's brilliant at it, and she'll make waves in that world long before she graduates. He can feel it. ]
Yeah, I had fun. I mean, I could think of more fun ways to spend an evening, but it was nice to catch up with everyone again and complain about our course loads. [ And students, but Matt is feeling pretty charitable to his students at the moment, chiefly thanks to one particular student. ]
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You didn't miss much. It's been rainy.
[ everyone panics in the rain, scurrying inside as soon as the water starts to fall; from inside her room, daisy watched the rain pound against the windows, careful eyes tracking the path of the lightning as it struck in the distance. ]
But I miss you.
[ she's too sleepy to bite her tongue, too warm and cozy to care. maybe that's stupid to say out loud when they're not anything specific to each other, but she does. and she wants to tell him, so she does. ]
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He probably shouldn't be imagining that. It seems...too intimate. ]
Yeah, it's been raining here too. I think it's the tail end of some tropical storm or something, we've been inside all day so I haven't really paid attention. [ Trapped in the hotel's conference center, he hasn't really been too concerned with what the weather is like outside. It's cool and comfortable inside in the air conditioning, and that's what matters.
He sighs quietly when she confesses that she misses him, something twisting in his chest. ]
I miss you too.
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she wants, and the sharpness of that wanting is an ache she doesn't know what to do with; in its wake, she blows out a breath, fingertips curling into the sleeve of the sweater, her voice a little tight when she finally pipes back up again. ]
I wish I could have come with you.
[ and that's selfish, and she knows it. ]
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He's had this conference booked for a whole year, the long weekend marked off in his calendar in green highlighter, and they've only been doing...this thing for a few weeks. Long enough to settle into a comfortable rhythm of meeting up regularly, their awkward little edges smoothed out through a growing familiarity, and he's stunned to realize that he does miss her, and not just in the idle way you might miss a close friend (or casual romantic partner).
He wants her here beside him, so he can turn to her and see the edge of her smile, so he can lean in and whisper something to her, so he can touch her wrist and smell her hair and feel her warm weight beside him in this horrible hotel bed. ]
I'm going to Chicago to talk at NIU at the beginning of December. If you're not busy with finals...
[ She could come with him. They could get her a plane ticket, and she could come to the city with him, where nobody knows who they are, and he could hold her hand if he wanted to, could take her to art galleries, or out for dinner, and they could play at being tourists in someone else's city for a little while. ]
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[ maybe that comes out too fast. maybe it's reckless and stupid and desperately, achingly familiar, but the words spill out the second the pause enters the conversation, and daisy doesn't take them back.
she isn't, though. unlike poetry analysis or history exams, her coursework ends in projects, submitted and reviewed a week prior to the end of the semester, with allowances for one digital revision if necessary. there's no in-person requirement, no awkwardly scheduled exams in large rooms. just the work that must be done, and if it isn't by then, a weekend in december wouldn't have saved her regardless. ]
My capstone's due end of November. [ she says it both to reassure him and to remind herself. ] I could probably hitch a ride.
[ it doesn't occur to her to think of buying a plane ticket. she is, logically speaking, aware that planes go between the city and chicago literally a dozen times a day, but that's an expense she would never justify for herself — and certainly not one she would think of asking him to justify on her behalf.
it also doesn't occur to her that it's not out of the ordinary for university funding of conferences to cover transportation for an attendant's plus one — but how would she know that. ]
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Good. That's...that's good.
[ He also speaks suspiciously fast, but it's out there now, it's too late to take it back.
Now that they're both in agreement, she'll come with him for his next conference, it's a little easier to bear the thought of staying in this featureless hotel room for another two nights. He'll be lonely — how funny, that he's aware of how lonely he feels now, when sleeping on his own hasn't bothered him for over a year, when they haven't even slept in the same bed together before now anyway — but he has coming back to her to look forward to. That'll help. ]
You should make a list of what you want to see and do while we're there.
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[ she'd be happy to do anything with him. just being in the city with him, actually with him, not having to lock doors behind them or walk appropriately apart, is enough for her. she doesn't need a special expedition or earmarked destinations to enjoy her time. hell, she'd be satisfied just hanging around in his hotel room, surfing free wifi, and waiting for him to come back after a day of very important speaking engagements to rapt audiences in the windy city. ]
If you tell me when you're supposed to fly in, I can meet you somewhere.
[ like, the parking lot of the airport or wherever his hotel is or just under the ... sign?? does chicago have a sign? maybe she should google that. she's never been there. ]
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[ Honestly, he'll be busy with work stuff for a large chunk of the trip, which is why Julie doesn't go with him any more. She's busy with her own life, and she often found being left to her own devices while he sequesters himself in a room with other nerds to talk about metaphor usage in turn of the century literature incredibly boring. If Daisy wants to come with him, she's more than welcome to, but she might as well decide what she wants to do and go do it. He'll come along when he's able.
He frowns at the darkened hotel room at large for a moment before turning on his bed to frown at his phone in particular. ]
I mean, I know December tends to be a peak traveling month, but I'm pretty sure we can get you a ticket on the same flight as me... [ It might be expensive, since it's sort of last minute, but better now than in December. He's got a rewards card, he can probably scrape together the miles to take care of it. ] I don't think we'll be sitting together, but it's a short flight. I think we'll survive.
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Matt... [ she blows out a breath, but it's not annoyance or irritation that colors her voice. it's a nervous, anxious energy as she peers at a flight pricing graph. he hadn't told her the dates, but she does know when finals are — and knowing the type of conference he'd be attending makes it a lot easier to cross-reference the topic and the destination to find the right one. ] Jesus, this is highway robbery.
[ who on earth would pay two hundred dollars to sit on a plane? ]
You know I was just gonna hitch a ride, right? Like, there's an app for that and everything, I can be there in two days at the most.
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He doesn't mind sitting on the phone with her in silence for a little while.
When she starts talking again, he realizes maybe she was researching something else. He's about to open his mouth to ask her how much it's displaying for when she continues, and his thoughts screech to a halt. ]
What? [ He knows ride-sharing is a thing, he's not stupid. But there's a difference between Ubering somewhere, where drivers have ratings and presumably some sort of oversight, and just...getting into someone's car. ] You can't hitch hike to Chicago!
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[ she doesn't completely connect the dots that by saying you can't, he's saying that's not safe and i don't want you to do that. she thinks he's just... unaware, in the same way that he was unaware that you could redirect internet traffic over a vpn in order to watch international netflix streams or that it was possible to set up an if/then protocol to turn his lights on when he dialed a number on his phone.
technology, she figures, is the missing link here. functional capacity, not the safety ratings or rationality behind it. ]
I mean, it's not a direct shot or anything, but you can totally do it. I used to pick up people in my van all the time to make a little money.
[ not for gas, but for food. so she wouldn't starve. but that's a little... heavy... for this conversation. ]
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He, on the other hand, doesn't know how he's supposed to explain to her that climbing into other people's vehicles is dangerous. Especially when she tells him that she used to give people rides. He sits in silence for a moment, staring at his phone, dumbfounded, before he clears his throat and does his best to explain himself without coming across as condescending or talking down to her like she's an idiot child.
Even if he kind of wants to yell at her like she's one of his relatives. ]
It's dangerous to get in a stranger's vehicle, especially for a single female, especially for a long haul like that. [ That was okay, right? ] I will gladly buy you a plane ticket. It's the simplest solution.
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but she doesn't know how to explain that to him. she doesn't know how to say, i used to be homeless on the street for two years and then i bought a van and i lived off the money i could make driving people around as an unregistered taxi and whatever i could steal to resell at a pawn shop. she doesn't know how to explain that his expectations of safety come from a place she never knew, an expectation that there was always a more reasonable solution or a more comfortable one, even if it meant stretching a little to get there.
and she doesn't know that he wants to know all of that about her, anyway. why would he? she might be grown up enough now to dress herself in clothes that fit, she may have pocketed enough money in between semesters to buy an imported knockoff smartphone, but she wasn't comfortable. not the way her roommate or her fellow students or her professors were, anyway.
but that's not his fault, and she doesn't want to ruin her chance to talk to him by yelling at him for something he doesn't understand. not tonight. not when she misses him so much it feels like a piece of her's been cut out and taken away, a feeling that she keeps telling herself is way too strong for what's only been a few weeks of casual meetings and rushed sex in offices and back rooms.
no, it's too much. to feel, to explain. she can only blow out a breath, a click and a rustle of fabric echoing the closing and pushing away of her laptop, and lean up against the wall behind her bed, head thumping gently against the chipped paint. ]
That's the only way I could have gone. [ okay, she could have burned her budget for the month, but that's stupid. ] I want to, I do, I just —
[ god. ]
I can't repay you for that.
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It stops him from getting belligerent about this; obviously, there's a reason Daisy is resisting him buying her a plane ticket, and it's not just her being polite. ]
Honey. [ His voice is low, gentle. The way you'd talk to a spooked animal, or a child that's woken up from a nightmare. ] It's okay.
[ He doesn't understand why she can't get a plane ticket, or why she won't entertain the idea of him getting her one. She's right. He doesn't understand her financial baggage, her background, anything like that. She's never brought it up before, and he comes from the sort of comfortable middle-class anglo-saxon lifestyle that means he's had the privilege to never worry about where his next meal came from. Sure, he has a big family, and money was always a little tight, but he was never homeless, never had to worry that he wouldn't be able to find warm clothes when it was cold, never had to try and live off Top Ramen and day-old bread. ]
You don't need to repay me. [ It's only two hundred dollars. At least he's smart enough not to say that out loud. He has a feeling it won't go over well. ] I've got a miles card. I can scrape together enough points for a ticket for you.
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[ and, for a second, that's all she says, her mouth otherwise occupied in letting out a shaky exhale, one that's (only somewhat successfully) attempted to be muffled by a sweatshirt-sleeve-clad hand. she just says okay, and resists the urge to explain all the hesitation and anxiety and nervous, self-destructive thoughts that are rattling in her brain.
because, no matter how okay it is, no matter how gently he tells her that he can afford this and he wants to do this and that he wants to bring her along, the sad truth is daisy can't repay him. not in funds, not in favors, not in anything she knows as valuable or worthwhile or important.
sure, she can keep him company. she can make him feel good. she can ease his stress after a long day, make him smile when he's frustrated; she can let him burn off steam when he needs something real under his hands, something pliant and obedient and wanting.
but those things aren't the same. and that's not what he's doing, either. he's not paying her for her company. he's doing this to be nice, and she doesn't know how to repay that. not really. ]
I really wish I could see you right now.
[ not the other way around. she doesn't necessarily think he needs to see her. but she can't really fight down the desire to tuck herself into his space, to find that solid reassurance, familiar now in other contexts. she wants to be held, to be cradled: she wants to feel the way his arms wrap around her when she sits in his lap, strong and steady and sure, the way his chin tucks into her hair, letting her face find purchase against his chest.
she just wants to be with him, and she isn't, and the realization aches like an open wound. ]
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He wants to be able to touch her, to stroke his hand down her arm or to card his fingers through her hair, to hold her close against his chest the way he knows she likes. He likes it too, honestly, he's not just being altruistic when he wraps his arms around her and lets her put her face into his chest. It's been a long time since someone turned to him for comfort, and right now feels like a moment that desperately needs some comfort inserted into it.
How can he tell her that the money doesn't matter to him? Objectively, two hundred dollars matters. Of course it does. He has to pay over two grand every month to repay his student loans, on top of the rent he and Julie pay for their place, on top of all his other expenses. Two hundred dollars matters. But he's willing to tighten his belt in other arenas so that he can afford this one indulgence, so that he can take her out to Chicago with him and he can show her a good time, so they can spend time together that isn't snatched between classes, so that he doesn't have to lock the door behind her or put his palm over her mouth to keep her quiet while he touches her. He wants to not have to look over his shoulder, to smile at her the way she makes him want to, to put his arm around her and kiss her whenever the spirit moves him regardless of who's watching.
She means so much to him, but that's not something he can articulate over the phone. ]
I know, baby. [ He'd almost forgotten how it felt to feel someone else's heart beating against his skin, and he wants. ] It's only two more days, though, then I'll be back in town and you can see me whenever you want. You'll be sick of me in no time.
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it's — god, it sounds so good, she just wants to hear him say it again. ]
I'm not gonna get sick of you.
[ she can almost guarantee that it'll be the other way around. he'll get sick of her, he'll get tired of her, he'll learn too much and walk away because that's too much to handle. he'll change his mind or get back with his wife or something. it's too good a dream to even consider that he won't. ]
I want to see you when you get off the plane.
[ like, immediately. in a dream world, she'd pull a scene from a movie and kiss him at the gate. the image flashes and burns into her retinas before she has a chance to shove it down. she can't do that, can she? she can't meet him at the gate like she has a right to his time, like she belongs there, waiting for him. it's a sobering thought. ]
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i use this icon so rarely, can you believe
i cannot believe she is so pretty
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