Summary: George doesn’t know what to make of Daisy, but she knows that she likes her.
Category: Dead Like Me, George/Daisy, prefemslash
Thanks: to sionnain who helped drag this from me when I got stuck.
“You know,” she said, dragging a manicured fingernail along the side of my face, “you’re actually rather beautiful.”
I pulled back, disbelief flooding my mind. It had been four months now since I had looked in a mirror and not seen Millie’s wan face looming back at me. “Really?” I asked, my eyebrows rising as I looked for any trace of insincerity in her eyes.
“Really.” She smiled, using that same hand to brush my hair back, tucking it neatly behind my right ear.
My face relaxed slightly, but I looked down, no longer able to meet her eyes. I wasn’t exactly used to these kinds of things. Sure, Delores at work had told me I was pretty… but that was different.
This was Daisy, sitting on my bed (our bed?) in her bathrobe. It wasn’t tied very tightly and I could see the gentle curve of her breasts without too much effort. She was touching me and giving me compliments when I expected her to be throwing a fit about sharing the bed (much like the one I had thrown last night about my neck and the chair and my apartment, damnit!).
She leaned in towards me, and my eyes darted. Was she going to kiss me or call “Scene!” and fall back laughing while I gazed at the way her breasts moved?
“I’m going to shower, all right Georgia?” I cringed at my full name (also cringing to repress the immediate image of Daisy, naked, wet, and lathering herself with my soap, that popped into my mind).
“Sure,” I flat-lined, “whatever.”
I wrenched my eyes from her, acting as nonchalant as possible. She stepped into the bathroom, and I lay back on the bed, my hands under my head. After a minute or two the water turned on. I looked around the room for something to do until she was done, anything to take my mind off of the pictures that were flashing with increasing intensity through my head.
“Georgia?” Daisy’s voice came faintly from the bathroom, filtered through the sounds of the water and through the door.
I panicked. Was this when she invited me in to the shower with her? I hadn’t shaved my legs in two days. “Uh, what Daisy?” I got up and pressed myself to the bathroom door.
“I forgot my loofah. Would you be a dear and fetch it from my bag for me? You know the one.”
I actually did know from all the times I’d watched her fingers sort through her countless belongings, so I begrudgingly went over and got it. It smelled like flowers. Or like body wash that is supposed to smell like flowers.
“I got it, what do you want me to do?” I dared to crack open the door, but I squeezed my eyes shut like I was afraid the sight of her might scald me. Who knew, it might.
“Just reach on in here and I’ll grab it.”
To fit my arm in, I had to open the door wider getting a large whiff of steam and shampoo and Daisy. I was afraid that I might open my eyes, so I used my other hand to cover my face.
Her fingers brushed mine when she grabbed the loofah from me. “Thanks, dear!” she chirped.
I took another deep breath in and closed the door.