Jerry and Jensen's Apartment

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry gave a short laugh that turned into a delicate cough. Covering his mouth, he cleared his throat of the gravy he'd almost inhaled and grinned down into his plate, cheeks flushing afresh. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but really, there's nothing more to know about me. Books, writing, getting shaken down by demanding waterfowl... That's pretty much my whole life in a nutshell."

Taking another gulp of his milk, he considered for a few moments. "My parents...," he began tentatively. "Well, Jensen and I are from Schenectady. Our parents own a horse farm on the outskirts of town. We breed racing horses. I had a horse named Bucko until I was eleven--I told you that last night, I believe. Until he died, I wanted to be a cowboy, same as Jensen. After that... well, that was when I stopped riding and started writing."

He thought for a moment longer, wondering how deep was appropriate to delve, where the line between answering Daisy's question and monopolizing the conversation lay, before tossing caution to the wind. "Soon after, I got very sick and spent much of my time inside. My mother had me take up the violin to keep me occupied--she's a rather accomplished violinist herself, you see. I was never very good, I don't think, but she was wonderful. She played with the symphony before marrying my father."

[Daisy O'Connor]

Daisy sat and listened quietly, seeing something stirring in Jerry's eyes though she didn't know what, it tugged at her heart and she reached across the table to brush her fingers against his arm. The slightest bit of contact that she dared but for some reason felt like she needed in that moment. "I think the measure of something is not necessarily in the doing of it well, but in the doing of it at all," She said softly, finally giving into temptation and sliding her hand down to cover his and slip her fingers in between his larger ones.

"I'm not much of a musician myself, one of the girls at the pub plays the fiddle beautifully and I've already mentioned that my singing voice isn't quite what some of the other girls have," Daisy shrugged, deciding she liked her hand resting on his and boldly left it there, along her fingers to occasionally play across his skin. "But I do love music, it can be salve to an aching soul, or cheer a saddened one. In Ireland, my da used to take me for walks some nights down into the village and at the local pub there was music every night. Sometimes there were instruments but mostly it was just the people, singing and dancing with a kind of joyous cheer."

She blushed a little when she realized she had been more or less babbling and lapsed into silence, finding that there was a certain calm to that as well. Just being able to sit with Jerry like this; her hand resting on his, the remnants of their shared meal spread out before them and the quiet rhythm of their breathing filling the air.

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry didn't start in the least at Daisy's impromptu contact; quite the opposite, he felt himself relax under her touch. For the first time in a very, very long time, Jerry found himself feeling completely at ease, and closed his eyes, his head bowed over his plate. He wondered, was he putting off signals? Was this only a response to some invisible alert he flashed that Daisy, who'd already explained herself the mothering type, picked up on and reacted to? Jerry wasn't sure, but he also wasn't caring at the moment. His "getting sick" was a simple explanation--more like, an easy cover-up--for a period in time he refused to revisit. Daisy's comfort was greatly appreciated as he barricaded those memories even further into the recesses of his mind.

He listened quietly as she praised the wonders of music and took a small detour through her childhood memories before falling silent as well. Every word she spoke was truth as far as Jerry was concerned, and he would've spoken up to agree, but the silence that settled between them felt so comfortable, so easy, he dare not interrupt it. She traced lazy circles along the back of his hand with her fingers as they finished their meal.

Looking down at a plate he would've happily licked clean, the meal had been so good, Jerry felt another little prong of boldness spark through him. Slowly, he rolled his hand over beneath hers, turning his palm up to entwine his fingers with hers.

"Thank you very much for the meal, Miss Daisy," he said softly, finally breaking their silence. "It was delicious, far better than anything I've had in recent memory." Swallowing nervously, he brought Daisy's delicate little hand up to lightly kiss her knuckles. "Miss Daisy," he murmured, even more softly now, "I think... I like you, M-miss Daisy. Quite a b-bit."

[Daisy O'Connor]

Daisy's breath caught a little bit when Jerry shifted his hand beneath hers, linking their fingers together and she watched as he lifted their join hands to brush a kiss against the back of her hand, her stomach fluttering at the gentle, yet intimate touch. "I do believe that I quite like you back just as much," Daisy breathed out, shifting as close as she could from her position at the table and looking up into his warm brown eyes.

She could see a lifetime in those eyes, the colors that swirled in the depths of them and the layers of the man who held her hand, sending a glorious feeling tripping through her stomach as she watched him. Daisy's eyes roved the handsome lines of his face, taking in every curve and angle, committing them to memory so maybe she could close her eyes and revisit it later. Perhaps it was madness this feeling she had, perhaps she was allowing her romantic nature to guide her emotions and ignoring logic, but the truth was she had never felt like this before. This was something special, to hell with what society or propriety or anything else said.

Lifting up her free hand, Daisy ran a few fingers down Jerry's cheek, smiling softly as she let her hand fall to his shoulder. "I think that I should like it very much if you were to kiss me again, Jerry Flynn."

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry grinned in spite of himself, nerves coiling and fluttering in his stomach. Daisy wanted another kiss? Surely that meant he had done something right! How on earth was this happening? What wonderful, selfless thing had he done to deserve time with this beautiful, blue-eyed angel? He wasn't entirely sure that this wasn't some cosmic mistake, that her presence was a clerical error that would remove her from his life when corrected--but, he decided, he would enjoy every second he could steal, punishment be damned.

"I think... I think I would very much like to kiss you again, Miss Daisy," he murmured, licking his lips self-consciously. Leaning forward, he tilted his head, surprising himself at how naturally it seemed to happen. He hesitated only a moment, his lips lightly brushing against hers, before plunging in and strengthening their contact. Instantly, that heady, mind-fogging sensation was back, making him feel slow and stupid, as though this physical contact was the only action he was capable of. Her taste (dare he call it a familiar taste now?) was tinged lightly with their dinner, both sweet and salty at once, and wonderful.

"M-miss Daisy, may I court you? Could I ask you to be mine?" Eyes popping open, Jerry drew back, shocked at his audacity. He hadn't meant to speak those words aloud, hadn't intended to lay so much pressure on her at once. "I, er, I'm sorry," he stammered hastily. "I didn't mean to be presumptuous. I don't know what came over me."

[Daisy O'Connor]

Daisy wanted to melt into the kiss, into the warm feeling that washed over her as his lips brushed against hers and she was once again swept away on a wave of feeling. She was both deliciously aware of everything about Jerry and hazily not, the warmth of his hand along her side clouding the thoughts that warned her that perhaps this was all happening to fast. Whatever the reason that they had found one another, be it fate like they had discussed the night before, or happenstance, Daisy was grateful and she never wanted these moments to end.

Her eyes drifted open as he pulled away, his words rushing out and slicing through her haze, causing her heart to race. "Yes..." She breathed out before even realizing that she had, her breath catching a little as she looked into his eyes, shaking her head a little as he apologized. "Oh Jerry, I do believe the rest of the world might find us mad," She mused with a slight smile, tilting her head forward so she could rest her forehead on his shoulder for a moment as she just allowed herself to feel everything.

"But you know, I've found that I don't have much care for what the rest of the world thinks," She pulled back again, lifting a hand and touching his cheek with gentle fingers as she considered him. "And I can think of nothing I would like more than to be your girl," Daisy said, giving into the urge from earlier and trailing her fingers up to comb briefly through his dark hair. "Will...will you be my guy?"

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry felt his face flush with the effort of restraining his elation and turned away, biting his lower lip and forcing himself to choke back the desire to crow happily, whoop with joy, and generally make an embarrassing spectacle of himself. Getting himself under control he returned his gaze to Daisy's, a broad smile tugging at his lips as he nodded.

"My brother will tease me about this relentlessly for the rest of my life, I think," he murmured, "but I would be honored to have the privilege of walking you home, holding your company, trying for your hand..." Her fingers felt wonderful against his head, threading through his hair and touching his scalp, and he tilted into her touch and gently pulled her forward for another brief, delicate kiss.

"Miss Daisy," he said, breaking their kiss after a moment, "would you still have any interest in... in reading my drafts on the story of the ducks? I think I would like very much to show them to you." It was the biggest, most intimate gesture he could make, allowing her a glimpse into his creative process. He never showed his works-in-progress to anyone--not his brother, not his mother, not even his publisher who often got antsy when a deadline was approaching and he didn't have anything in his hands. Rising, he moved slowly to the arm chair in the living-area of the room, his hand trailing along Daisy's arm until the last, and fetched his discarded jacket and the leather writing journal secreted in the inside pocket.

[Daisy O'Connor]

"Your brother may tease you, but I think I would rather enjoy having you walking me home every night, tucking my arm through yours, finding the things that makes that smile of yours dance across your face," Daisy said softly, lifting a hand and touching his cheek gently before accepting his kiss and basking in the feel and taste of it.

"Yes Jerry..." Daisy said, with a nod of her head, trying to ignore the sound of her heart beating loudly in her chest at what Jerry had just offered. She knew how much his writing meant to him and for him to offer to share his words with her when he was still in the draft process...well it touched and surprised her. "I would be honored to read your drafts."

Her eyes followed him as he stood, watched his steady progress over to his jacket, the feel of his fingers running along her arm only heighten the connection that she felt to him in that moment. He extracted a well loved writing journal from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to her, Daisy's slender fingers curling around the soft cover as she smiled up at him. "Let's see how Paddlefoot sets out on his grand adventure, shall we?"

[Jerry Flynn]

Heart hammering with a new breed of nerves, Jerry offered his arm to Daisy. "Let's move over to the couch," he proposed softly. Moving to the other side of the room, he snapped the sheets and blankets off the couch Jensen slept on, knocking the pillows out of the way and giving them a place to sit.

His brother, he knew, would sit with his arm around her shoulder, his hip pressing firmly into hers, making certain she was both contained in his grasp and well aware of his own solid presence as well. Jerry, however, couldn't seem to manage this, shifting slightly away from Daisy as they sat, respectfully keeping his body separated from hers. Instead, he turned in her direction, propping one arm up on the back of the couch and leaning into it, watching her intently as her blue eyes scanned each page slowly and thoroughly, taking in the narrative of Paddlefoot the duck and his life amongst the raft, leading up to the morning he awoke to find his beloved Quillfeather had disappeared in the night.

"I hope you find my handwriting legible," he said hurriedly, aware that his handwriting tended to take a turn for the chicken-scratch, especially when he was on a roll. "If you need translation, just let me know."

[Daisy O'Connor]

Daisy took his offered arm, allowing him to lead her over to the couch and settled there beside him, her hands still clutching the book that contained his writing. She smiled at him when he glanced at her, shifting away slightly as though not to invade her space and after a moment she carefully opened the book and with great care began to read. Jerry's writing was instantly descriptive and Daisy felt herself captivated by the adventures of Paddlefoot from the very first word.

As was often the case when she was reading, she got caught up in the words, the flow of them on the page overwhelming her. It was though she could see Jerry bent over his writing desk in the words, feverishly written when inspiration struck, a smoother script when the story came at a slower pace. It was like seeing a piece of art constructed from the inside out and the result was a beautifully heartfelt story somewhat disguised as a children's fable.

When Daisy finally looked up from the page, Paddlefoot's early morning discovery that Quillfeather had disappeared fresh in her mind, she was surprised to find that in the course of her reading she had leaned back into the couch - and subsequently right into the warmth of Jerry's arm. Blushing slightly at the realization but refusing to move because she found the whole arrangement to be rather cozy, she smiled up at him, blue eyes radiant. "I think it was rather brilliant, Jerry."

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry couldn't seem to stop himself. Those words from Daisy's lips, that particular review, removed every ounce of his self control. No sooner had the words passed her lips then Jerry leaned in and planted another kiss squarely on her mouth. His hands rose to cup her jaw softly, thumbs tracing the curve of her cheeks as he devoured the taste of her compliment.

And just as quickly, he pulled away again, cheeks burning and eyes darting. "Sorry!" he blurted quickly. "Um, sorry, I, uh, I didn't mean to--I mean, I shouldn't--I..." He broke off, biting his lower lip with a self-deprecating chuckle, collecting himself. "I mean, thank you. You really think so? I'm, um, I'm not sure where to go from there. Part of me wants to send Paddlefoot off on his quest alone, just a lone duck braving the unknown to rescue his lost love by himself, but another part of me wants to have his friend Bumblebeak come along to play the side-partner. Dialogue between the two of them would keep up the pace, and Bumblebeak would provide some comic relief now and again, but then there's something kind of romantic about Paddlefoot setting off all alone, despite all the hardships he knows are out there and all the troubles he knows he hasn't seen before, just to bring the duck he loves to safety."

Bringing himself to face her fully again, he looked to her with soft eyes, taken by the way she was nestled in the crook of his arm, book in her lap, words fresh in her mind. Jerry liked the way this felt. A lot.

"So, um," he said, his voice soft and a little distracted as he tried to focus again and not get lost in Daisy's beautiful blue eyes, "do you have any... any suggestions?"

[Daisy O'Connor]

Daisy was caught by surprise at Jerry's movement, his mouth pressing down over hers in with a warmth that flooded her, his hands cradling her face and making her feel safe and gloriously alive all at the same time. He pulled back and she could already see the self-doubt edging into his eyes before he rushed out an apology, the boldness of his actions clearly a revelation to him as much as they were to her. "Don't-" Daisy protested, lifting a hand to brush against his, curl her fingers around his and give them a gentle squeeze. "Please don't apologize Jerry. I want you to kiss me whenever you'd like...I like it when you kiss me." Red flushed her cheeks and she looked away at the book in her lap as Jerry began asking questions about where he hoped the take the story from where he had left off.

She considered the options he had laid out, gratified that he was asking her opinion at all and wanting to give her answer proper thought. "There is an inherent romance to Paddlefoot striking out on his own on a quest for Quillfeather," She agreed with a slight tilt of her head, biting at her lip for a moment. "But I also think there is something to be said for having a friend by his side as well. It might be worth exploring the strength of the friendship between Paddlefoot and Bumblebeak - who so bravely won't allow his friend to go on his quest alone."

She risked a look back into Jerry's eyes, knowing there was always a chance for her to get lost in them but unable to resist the warmth she found there, not now when she was nestled against his side, the taste of him still lingering on her lips. "I think there is something beautiful about having someone you can count on in your life, romantic love or not."

[Jerry Flynn]

Romantic love... or not? Was she hinting at something there? Was she having second thoughts about agreeing to his courtship? You're thinking about this waaay too much, came Jensen's voice in his head. She just said she wants you to kiss her, she likes when you kiss her. Let it go.

"Yeah," Jerry agreed with Daisy (and, conveniently, with Jensen's voice), nodding slowly. "There's a good market for buddy stories, too. Friendships are a very valuable asset. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. The three musketeers. Even in Dickens's A Christmas Carol, Ebenezer Scrooge's supernatural encounter with the Christmas ghosts was prefaced by a visit from his friend Jacob Marley to warn him of what could happen if he didn't heed the ghosts' advice. And they all threaded friendship and romance together quite well..."

He drifted off for a moment, writer's mind following a short tangent of Paddlefoot and Bumblebeak in flight, searching for a stretch of water to descend upon for a rest, Paddlefoot wondering if perhaps Quillfeather could be found here, Bumblebeak wondering if the local ducks could tell them where to find the best patch of watercress. Perhaps they'd have an argument halfway through the journey, Paddlefoot accusing Bumblebeak of not caring whether they ever located Quillfeather, Bumblebeak telling Paddlefoot they would never find Quillfeather until Paddlefoot realized that his romantic relationships didn't cancel out his platonic relationships. They could part ways, only to meet up later on, both much worse for their solo flights, Paddlefoot realizing that Bumblebeak refused to give up on him despite the things he'd said...

Dragging himself back to the real world, he shook his head lightly to bring back his focus and gave Daisy a bashful smile. "Sorry, I drifted a bit there. I think Bumblebeak is a must. The story wouldn't be the same without him. Thank you for helping me see this, muse Daisy."

[Daisy O'Connor]

"I'm glad that I could help," Daisy said, smiling brightly at the thought of having aided Jerry's creative process in any way. It struck her as they sat there how comfortable it was between them, how though they had only met the day before, she felt as though she might have known him for a lifetime. The warmth of his large frame sitting beside her on the couch, his arm draped along behind her as she sat tucked against him. She never wanted to leave and yet knew that propriety if not her own good sense told her that she should.

"I..." Daisy cleared her throat and regretfully pushed herself up so she was seated on the edge of the couch and turned to look at him, profoundly struck by how handsome he looked lounged out on the couch beside her. It was almost enough for her to forget propriety and good sense entirely. "I...really don't want too, but I should probably get back to my place..."

Sighing softly, she watched him carefully, her eyes searching and feeling the true depth of what they had talked about earlier sinking in. Jerry Flynn was her man...and she didn't think she could have found a finer one. "Perhaps you could walk me up to my apartment and I'll send you back with that pie for your brother."

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry's heart sank as Daisy announced her need to be going. To be honest, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to be parted from her again, but a glance to his watch told him that she was right. Night time would be approaching quickly, and a young woman holed up in a man's apartment for a late night with no chaperon? Hardly proper. He wouldn't want to damage Daisy's reputation like that in a million years.

"Yeah," he agreed, trying to hide his disappointment and appear nonchalant, "I think you're right. Pity, though." Accepting his writing journal again, he slowly rose and returned to his jacket, tucking the journal safely into the inside pocket once again, and dragging out his movements as long as possible without appearing to move backward altogether. He retrieved her coat from the hat rack by the door and held it for her to slide her arms into again.

"Thank you very much for dinner, Miss Daisy," he said softly. "It was delicious. And, um, I don't mean to be presumptuous, but... m-may I... may I walk you home from work tomorrow as well?" A quick assurance that he was merely monitoring her safety, walking home from a pub in Brooklyn, rose from his throat, but quickly died on his lips. It was true enough, of course, but Daisy had managed to return home every day for a couple years at least without incident; his presence was hardly required. But more to the point, his interests ran far deeper than wanting to ensure her safety. He just wanted an excuse to see her again, dammit, and he'd take it wherever he could get it.