[ for the few seconds that pass in between that call from within and the door finally opening, daisy goes through one of the worst emotional rollercoasters of her life. with only a few inches of door between them, she can feel daniel there on the other side, her attention focused so intently on that space that she couldn't possibly miss him. weeks may have passed since they were last together but she'd still know his vibration anywhere.
in those seconds when the silence stretches into hours, fear grips at her chest, twisting like a fist around her heart. what if he decides to just let her stand out there like an idiot, waiting for a chance that she's already lost? what if he opens the door and tells her to leave, that her silence has caused too much damage and he's not interested in her mess anymore? what if he's already started moving on with his life and there's no room for her—
but then the door is swinging open and just the mere sight of him standing there is enough to send relief rushing through her. he's there and he's okay, still in one piece and very firmly in this timeline. that relief is short-lived, though — his cool voice sends her anxiety spiking again, leaving her shifting her weight on her feet as she struggles to figure out what to say. ]
Hey. [ very eloquent. she clears her throat, looking past him into the apartment because she's not sure if she'll actually get to see inside, and then looks down. right, the plant, her own personal crutch against this incredibly overwhelming situation. ] I brought you a housewarming gift. Sorry it's late.
( from her words, a smile blooms on his face, dispersing some of the uneasiness jolting through him. daniel would like to believe that he's gotten good at reading people — reading their thoughts, their emotions, their next movements. it's a necessary trait for any spy to develop if they want to survive more than a day. so it's easy to pick up on daisy's emotions: the way she shifts her feet, the grip on the potted plant tightening, the nerves cracking her voice. to put it simply, she's aquiver with fright. and, in a way, it kinda soothes daniel. they're in the same boat; both wracked with nerves.
if daisy wasn't interested in him any longer, she didn't have to come by. she could've just disappeared and never see him again. that's a valid option. but, no, he didn't think she was that kind of person. from the, admittedly, very short time that daniel's known her, daisy johnson does not run away from her problems. if she was indeed no longer interested in him, at least she came in person to tell him. he likes to think that this courtesy would attenuate the heartbreak that may or may not be coming. (of course, he'd still drown himself in soup and billie holiday, but hey. at least he finally got an answer to that burning question.)
daniel tilts his chin, gesturing to the plant. ) Better late than never. ( that's not an outdated phrase, right? he swears he heard it on a television commercial a couple days prior. granted, it was for a medicare ad (whatever medicare is, but he assumes it's a program for senior citizens, what with the elderly actors and the spokesman mentioning being for those over sixty-five years old). so it could be a phrase used only by his generation. )
[ damn, he has a nice smile. she'd forgotten just how nice in the weeks since they last saw each other but those warm fuzzy feelings are bubbling right back up again now. it helps to counter the nerves a bit, because no way could he smile at her like that while preparing to slam the door in her face. daniel sousa might be a highly trained spy capable of a great many things, but she doesn't believe he's capable of that. at least, not with his gentlemanly sensibilities.
better late than never. it's certainly not an outdated phrase, and the words leave her smiling back at him as relief floods through her. ]
I was hoping you'd say that. [ though 'hoping' is putting it mildly. holding the plant up, she turns it so he can see the little card poked into the soil. ] It's got instructions and everything. I went for low maintenance so, hopefully, you won't turn into a plant killer because of me.
[ is she rambling? a bit. but she's still standing in the hallway and this all seemed so much easier when they were busy trying to save the world. where's a high-stress situation when you need one? ]
( daniel's head tilts, brown eyes slowly going over the big red words on the little card poking from the soil, stating the species and its care instructions. lightly chuckling, he smiles again and returns his gaze back to daisy. ) I'm sure a city boy like me can figure it out.
( their brown eyes meet. a slight breeze ruffles the millefleur curtains as the classical piece ends on the radio and the college aged host reappears to recite the piece's name. but the name falls on deaf ears. to daniel, it's like time stops for a moment. right here, right now, it's just the two of them. what does it matter that captain rogers and his friends are still not allowed back in the states? what does it matter that alien ships from thano's failed quest still litter the jungles of wakanda? what does it matter that, right now, the literal god of thunder, thor, is arguing with the nations of earth to accept his people as refugees? and what does it matter that he's struggling to find his place in this new world? all that matters to daniel is the woman standing across the threshold of his door. a woman who has endured so much pain and faced so many threats and, yet, has come out a stronger person. who cares about anything else?
the freedom brought on by the thought jolts him awake from his somnolence. it's like he's been asleep for the past month and a half. it's the twenty-first century! captain rogers is alive! aliens exist! the literal god of thunder, thor, is a real figure! daniel's in a new world with all these new opportunities laid out in front of him! all he has to do is reach out and stick his foot in the breadfruit (don't ask, it's a portuguese idiom his pai would always say).
daniel takes a half step forward towards daisy, letting go of the doorknob. it's no longer needed.
suddenly, the scent of something burning fills his nostrils. it takes his brain a second to register the smell.
his soup!
daniel hisses, ) Oh shoot. ( turning on his heels, he rushes back to the kitchen and pulls the pot of smoking blackened onions and garlic off the burner. the pot gets pushed into the sink. the water leftover at the bottom of the sink sizzles from the heat. )
[ she'd forgotten how nice his eyes are too. it's only been a few weeks and yet everything feels new again, like any progress they'd made in their time together was put on pause and is still trying to catch up. the way she wants to both kiss him senseless and run right out of the building speaks volumes of the way he still affects her when their eyes meet and time seems to stop.
she'd missed this. the feeling of falling for someone, the excitement and thrill mixed with sheer terror and a yearning for something she hasn't had in so long. and even though her anxiety is trying to tell her there isn't a hope in hell of this working out, she remembers all those time loops and the way she now knows without a shred of doubt who daniel sousa is, and she tells that anxiety to shut the hell up.
he starts to move toward her and her heartbeat quickens, her pulse racing at all the possibilities — and then that smell reaches her as well. it really is hard not to laugh at the way he rushes, but she does her very best.
rather than continue standing in the hall waiting for an express invitation, she hesitantly enters the apartment, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. with a cursory glance around, she notes the open window and walks to it, carefully setting the plant down on the nearest flat surface. then she takes a moment to make sure the window is open as far as it can go before turning back and moving to the edge of the kitchen with a cautiously curious expression. ]
Anything I can do to help? [ he's already burned something, so whatever her disastrous skills can manage surely has to be better than that. right? ]
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no subject
in those seconds when the silence stretches into hours, fear grips at her chest, twisting like a fist around her heart. what if he decides to just let her stand out there like an idiot, waiting for a chance that she's already lost? what if he opens the door and tells her to leave, that her silence has caused too much damage and he's not interested in her mess anymore? what if he's already started moving on with his life and there's no room for her—
but then the door is swinging open and just the mere sight of him standing there is enough to send relief rushing through her. he's there and he's okay, still in one piece and very firmly in this timeline. that relief is short-lived, though — his cool voice sends her anxiety spiking again, leaving her shifting her weight on her feet as she struggles to figure out what to say. ]
Hey. [ very eloquent. she clears her throat, looking past him into the apartment because she's not sure if she'll actually get to see inside, and then looks down. right, the plant, her own personal crutch against this incredibly overwhelming situation. ] I brought you a housewarming gift. Sorry it's late.
[ smooth, johnson. oh so smooth. ]
no subject
if daisy wasn't interested in him any longer, she didn't have to come by. she could've just disappeared and never see him again. that's a valid option. but, no, he didn't think she was that kind of person. from the, admittedly, very short time that daniel's known her, daisy johnson does not run away from her problems. if she was indeed no longer interested in him, at least she came in person to tell him. he likes to think that this courtesy would attenuate the heartbreak that may or may not be coming. (of course, he'd still drown himself in soup and billie holiday, but hey. at least he finally got an answer to that burning question.)
daniel tilts his chin, gesturing to the plant. ) Better late than never. ( that's not an outdated phrase, right? he swears he heard it on a television commercial a couple days prior. granted, it was for a medicare ad (whatever medicare is, but he assumes it's a program for senior citizens, what with the elderly actors and the spokesman mentioning being for those over sixty-five years old). so it could be a phrase used only by his generation. )
no subject
better late than never. it's certainly not an outdated phrase, and the words leave her smiling back at him as relief floods through her. ]
I was hoping you'd say that. [ though 'hoping' is putting it mildly. holding the plant up, she turns it so he can see the little card poked into the soil. ] It's got instructions and everything. I went for low maintenance so, hopefully, you won't turn into a plant killer because of me.
[ is she rambling? a bit. but she's still standing in the hallway and this all seemed so much easier when they were busy trying to save the world. where's a high-stress situation when you need one? ]
no subject
( their brown eyes meet. a slight breeze ruffles the millefleur curtains as the classical piece ends on the radio and the college aged host reappears to recite the piece's name. but the name falls on deaf ears. to daniel, it's like time stops for a moment. right here, right now, it's just the two of them. what does it matter that captain rogers and his friends are still not allowed back in the states? what does it matter that alien ships from thano's failed quest still litter the jungles of wakanda? what does it matter that, right now, the literal god of thunder, thor, is arguing with the nations of earth to accept his people as refugees? and what does it matter that he's struggling to find his place in this new world? all that matters to daniel is the woman standing across the threshold of his door. a woman who has endured so much pain and faced so many threats and, yet, has come out a stronger person. who cares about anything else?
the freedom brought on by the thought jolts him awake from his somnolence. it's like he's been asleep for the past month and a half. it's the twenty-first century! captain rogers is alive! aliens exist! the literal god of thunder, thor, is a real figure! daniel's in a new world with all these new opportunities laid out in front of him! all he has to do is reach out and stick his foot in the breadfruit (don't ask, it's a portuguese idiom his pai would always say).
daniel takes a half step forward towards daisy, letting go of the doorknob. it's no longer needed.
suddenly, the scent of something burning fills his nostrils. it takes his brain a second to register the smell.
his soup!
daniel hisses, ) Oh shoot. ( turning on his heels, he rushes back to the kitchen and pulls the pot of smoking blackened onions and garlic off the burner. the pot gets pushed into the sink. the water leftover at the bottom of the sink sizzles from the heat. )
no subject
she'd missed this. the feeling of falling for someone, the excitement and thrill mixed with sheer terror and a yearning for something she hasn't had in so long. and even though her anxiety is trying to tell her there isn't a hope in hell of this working out, she remembers all those time loops and the way she now knows without a shred of doubt who daniel sousa is, and she tells that anxiety to shut the hell up.
he starts to move toward her and her heartbeat quickens, her pulse racing at all the possibilities — and then that smell reaches her as well. it really is hard not to laugh at the way he rushes, but she does her very best.
rather than continue standing in the hall waiting for an express invitation, she hesitantly enters the apartment, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. with a cursory glance around, she notes the open window and walks to it, carefully setting the plant down on the nearest flat surface. then she takes a moment to make sure the window is open as far as it can go before turning back and moving to the edge of the kitchen with a cautiously curious expression. ]
Anything I can do to help? [ he's already burned something, so whatever her disastrous skills can manage surely has to be better than that. right? ]