( the problem with dean is that he's not really into reading the warning lables amidst all these sweets, he's more of an eying-it-out guy, which could definitely prove disastrous. he's already had himself a slice, despite the fact that it wasn't blackberry didn't dull it's bliss. no side effects so far; a huff, weaklings. )
( She arrives fairly quickly, though this time there's no outrageous swimming costume in sight.
Instead Daisy's in her comfiest jeans, her softest flannel shirt, the Quake boots she'd arrived in. It's a mess of opposing factors, half tactical gear and half the slouchiest of outfits. She hadn't exactly intended on hanging out with anyone, attractive men or otherwise. But she likes that he thought to call on her.
Likes that it feels normal.
It's definitely been fun talking to Dean of late, even if it's a half flirtatious back and forth. Daisy's of the impression that he's kind of more her kind of person than he lets on and she'd kind of wants to actually get to know him. There humour is similar and there's something she recognises in his expression when he thinks she's not looking. So. The u-turn. The change of plans.
She makes a beeline for him, hand on her hip as she gives a teasing smile. ) And here I thought crafting lanterns would be more your style. ( No, she didn't. )
( it's a scoff of a laugh that greets her in return, shooting a glance over toward the lanterns both giving their first, dancing flicker, and those that'd drifted off to small, tangerine blurs within the sky. ) Have to craft a hell of a lot of them. ( but he's quick to save such an admission, clearing his throat, not for a moment letting that characteristic tick to the edge of his mouth fall. no one needed to know how much he'd lost; and he's definitely not here for the pity. )
I've seen Tangled. ( yes, really. ) I consider that my share.
( it's then he allows himself a look at her, a real look at her, not the way he'd scoped her figure at the beach, but more or less the fact that they're nearly dressed the same, that she didn't have to put a damn amount of effort in or even wear one of those suits to catch his attention— not that he'd ever complain, obviously.
and maybe his expression softens, drifts a little from that usual childish flare to something a little more genuine. ) What about you, Rapunzel. You come for the sweets or the sweets? ( the latter is supplied with a palm waving down along his figure, as if to indicate yes, he was 'the sweets'. )
( Daisy's grin is brighter than any of the lanterns, even as she swings down to sit across from him on one of the picnic benches dotted around. She lets her gaze sweep over the gathered crowds, the little booths, taking in everything as best as she can. Part of it's curious, part of it's just habit. Cadelle may not be exactly dangerous, but she's learnt not to take anything for granted. Besides, once a SHIELD agent, always a SHIELD agent.
Inevitably though, her attention is snatched back by the man in front of her long enough to see the way his mouth drops a little before the mask slides back into place. )
Does that make you Eugene Fitzherbert? But instead of the white horse it's that gorgeous Impala in the parking lot, right?
( She lives in his building. She might have been eyeing it up for a while now. Daisy's foot knocks against his under the table, the punctuation to her joke as she crosses her arms in front of her. Whatever made him look like that before, she's going to do her damndest to see it doesn't return. Even if she isn't sure why she cares. It helps that he's like her, wisecracks at the ready. Laughter is a helpless response to all his posturing, her nose scrunching up even as she tries to look serious. )
I don't know. Which one's worse for my hips?
( Reaching out, Daisy swipes a finger through the frosting of the cupcake in front of him, popping it into her mouth with a daring lift of her eyebrows. )
( he doesn't miss the swell of her cheeks when that grin bears her teeth, how she surveys the area about them with just as much a cocktail of suspicion and curiosity. it definitely wasn't something he was used to, the plethora of events and crowd of bodies murmuring chattily and snuggling up close— used to run down bars and whatever shit motel him and sammy could find themselves into for the night. it's almost like a luxury he doesn't quite know how to blend with, yet having her at his side makes it seem ridiculous to even care.
a look of mock indignation. ) I'm a hell of a lot prettier than that guy. ( but she's pretty much right on target with Baby— he's beginning to think she may be able to read him a little too well to pucker up a compliment to his car. direct hit to his heart, daisy.
the moment she reaches over to steal a fingertips-worth of frosting, mouth opens to complain, but falls more to a silent vowel instead as he watches her pucker cheeks around the digit, sampling it for herself and giving him a look thats just as much a taunt as it is challenge. ) Anyone who tells you more hips is a bad thing should be ten feet under. ( yeah, he's still fixed on her mouth. sue the guy.
eventually, eventually they drag back up, and he's lifting the cupcake she'd sampled up to inspect it, dramatically at that. ) I dunno, you think this stuff actually works? No going back. ( raising a brow at her in return, as if to say: if you're in, i'm in. )
You're right. I like my men a bit more rugged. ( It's meant to be a teasing kind of joke, but Daisy's actually got a type. Men who throw themselves headfirst into danger for the good of the world. Also men who look good in leather. Dean fits the bill more than she currently realises. ) Besides, I don't have a tower I need rescuing from.
( Don't worry, Dean. This isn't Misery. She just loves cars. )
Oh, believe me. I'm well beyond the days of letting boys dictate my figure. The last guy who tried found himself at the wrong end of some kind of internet trouble. ( Widening her eyes innocently. ) Those unsolicited pics of his just happened to find their way all over his Facebook. And his Twitter. And his LinkedIn. ( A woman scorned.
She's feeling a little bit warm, actually. Maybe she'll have to get rid of her flannel. But she's lifting an eyebrow. )
( single brow quirks upward, lips puckering out as if impressed, and maybe he'd be a little more leery of the fact that he's apparently sitting before the hell hath no fury of hackers, but he doesn't have much of a public presence to uphold, nor does he have any idea how social media even works. ) Stay on your sweet side: noted. Besides, you look fuckin' great, so the tool deserved it, anyway.
( he's popping the cupcake into his mouth, resisting the urge to groan as it's cinnamony sweetness indulges his senses. ) No idea.
( hell if he knows what it does, he's never been one to pay much attention to directions, and any warning labels were quickly cast as a mental side note because, well, the table was fucking covered in sweets. a guy can only have so much self control. and for one that doesn't usually care what bit of it is held, in the physical regard, he finds himself far more fixated on how these particular treats may affect that manner of control, and, all the more, how her own wavers.
probably doesn't help that he's about two of them deep by the time she'd gotten there, and mixed his plate with various goodies with, apparently, all different totems of effect. it's kind of difficult to tell whether the interest kindling in his system is just his character, typical, or the baked goods at hands. but he's willing to find out. ) C'mon, Miss Daisy- ( couldn't help himself. )
You afraid some sugar's gonna make me that much more irresistible? ( cue a wink, because it's dean winchester. )
( Oh, good. He's exactly her kind of man. Impulsive and unrepentant about it. Daisy definitely can't resist. But for now she's at least trying to look like she can. )
You don't exactly strike me as the LinkedIn kind of type. But that wouldn't matter much. I have more than a few tricks up my sleeve. ( Anyway, despite his somewhat leery side, he's definitely not like the kind of douchebag frat bros she used to date.
Daisy looks thoughtful when he teases her. She swings out from underneath the picnic table and turns. It almost looks like she's going to leave, but she's striding to his side, slipping in beside him. It's a little bit of a squeeze, but she doesn't mind and she doubts he would either. Pressed up against each other at the thigh has something appealing about it, and she leans across to snack a sweet from his plate. It's soft looking, spongy, and it smells like ginger. )
I don't think it's your sugary side I'm interested in, but I'll stick around to see.
( She takes a bite of the cake, humming in delight before she offers him the rest by lifting it to just about mouth height. She double dares you, Dean. )
( if there's anything about her he holds not a single doubt of, it's her capability to raise hell to a man or otherwise that deserves it. she's never come across as the type of woman to allow another to slander her, nor probably anyone she cared for— they were pretty much the same in that regard. selfless to an often reckless extent, uncaring as to what sort of predicament it might throw them into.
it's only once she stands again that he realizes the root of the confections that may have actually gotten their roots in him, unable to help his gaze from falling to the lean graze of her limbs, how well she works an outfit that's all too similar to his own, hitting him with the same jut of arousal he'd fine before another with nothing on. if that wasn't saying something, the way fire zings low from his navel the moment she's beside him will.
he's greeted with a faint hit of her perfume, or maybe it's just her, and there's no denying or hiding the fact that he's more than a little entranced. )
No? ( silly question? sure, but he's always been a sucker for vocalizations. his whole world is shot to hell when she pretty much offers to hand-feed him the spongey cake, caution aside raveling a single, large palm to the lower of her back to give a swift, insistent tug to swoop her in closer. when he takes the treat from between her fingers he's not shy to include the their fleshy tips, grazing teeth against them before tilting his head back slightly wicked smirk falling back into place as he chews. )
( She feels a little flushed, is the thing. It's difficult to tell why. Maybe it's that the colour of his eyes change up close, maybe it's the hand at the base of her spine, maybe it's just that she's enjoying herself like this, helpless flirtation drawing her deeper and deeper. Either way, Daisy feels warm and pleased all over, the smile on her lips something sweet but still sly. )
That'd be telling.
( Her answer would probably be all of them. There's a familiarity about him that makes her want to understand. She knows as much as the next person that sharing and caring doesn't come easily for some people, and she's definitely under the impression it's the case for him. But his jokes and his charm have done something of a number on her anyway, caught her curiosity.
Maybe she's relieved to find herself wanting, after Lincoln. She's finally realising that she isn't dead inside, that there's a life for her to live and a whole realm of possibility still out there. Strange that she needed a city based on cuddling to help her heal, but she's not really complaining.
There's still icing on her fingers from where she'd fed him, and Daisy doesn't think twice before she's licking it off, something heated in her gaze. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text. bc i need them at the energy event.
text.yeeeeeeeees
( Because she is a caring soul. )
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( or, you know, encourage him. )
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pie sounds really good right now.
but give me five and i'll be there. you better save me a slice.
daisy make him eat too much
Save for a save, sounds fair to me.
I'm by the three table tier of death.
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Instead Daisy's in her comfiest jeans, her softest flannel shirt, the Quake boots she'd arrived in. It's a mess of opposing factors, half tactical gear and half the slouchiest of outfits. She hadn't exactly intended on hanging out with anyone, attractive men or otherwise. But she likes that he thought to call on her.
Likes that it feels normal.
It's definitely been fun talking to Dean of late, even if it's a half flirtatious back and forth. Daisy's of the impression that he's kind of more her kind of person than he lets on and she'd kind of wants to actually get to know him. There humour is similar and there's something she recognises in his expression when he thinks she's not looking. So. The u-turn. The change of plans.
She makes a beeline for him, hand on her hip as she gives a teasing smile. ) And here I thought crafting lanterns would be more your style. ( No, she didn't. )
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I've seen Tangled. ( yes, really. ) I consider that my share.
( it's then he allows himself a look at her, a real look at her, not the way he'd scoped her figure at the beach, but more or less the fact that they're nearly dressed the same, that she didn't have to put a damn amount of effort in or even wear one of those suits to catch his attention— not that he'd ever complain, obviously.
and maybe his expression softens, drifts a little from that usual childish flare to something a little more genuine. ) What about you, Rapunzel. You come for the sweets or the sweets? ( the latter is supplied with a palm waving down along his figure, as if to indicate yes, he was 'the sweets'. )
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Inevitably though, her attention is snatched back by the man in front of her long enough to see the way his mouth drops a little before the mask slides back into place. )
Does that make you Eugene Fitzherbert? But instead of the white horse it's that gorgeous Impala in the parking lot, right?
( She lives in his building. She might have been eyeing it up for a while now. Daisy's foot knocks against his under the table, the punctuation to her joke as she crosses her arms in front of her. Whatever made him look like that before, she's going to do her damndest to see it doesn't return. Even if she isn't sure why she cares. It helps that he's like her, wisecracks at the ready. Laughter is a helpless response to all his posturing, her nose scrunching up even as she tries to look serious. )
I don't know. Which one's worse for my hips?
( Reaching out, Daisy swipes a finger through the frosting of the cupcake in front of him, popping it into her mouth with a daring lift of her eyebrows. )
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a look of mock indignation. ) I'm a hell of a lot prettier than that guy. ( but she's pretty much right on target with Baby— he's beginning to think she may be able to read him a little too well to pucker up a compliment to his car. direct hit to his heart, daisy.
the moment she reaches over to steal a fingertips-worth of frosting, mouth opens to complain, but falls more to a silent vowel instead as he watches her pucker cheeks around the digit, sampling it for herself and giving him a look thats just as much a taunt as it is challenge. ) Anyone who tells you more hips is a bad thing should be ten feet under. ( yeah, he's still fixed on her mouth. sue the guy.
eventually, eventually they drag back up, and he's lifting the cupcake she'd sampled up to inspect it, dramatically at that. ) I dunno, you think this stuff actually works? No going back. ( raising a brow at her in return, as if to say: if you're in, i'm in. )
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( Don't worry, Dean. This isn't Misery. She just loves cars. )
Oh, believe me. I'm well beyond the days of letting boys dictate my figure. The last guy who tried found himself at the wrong end of some kind of internet trouble. ( Widening her eyes innocently. ) Those unsolicited pics of his just happened to find their way all over his Facebook. And his Twitter. And his LinkedIn. ( A woman scorned.
She's feeling a little bit warm, actually. Maybe she'll have to get rid of her flannel. But she's lifting an eyebrow. )
Why? What's it do?
( WHO CARES ABOUT BEING CAUTIOUS SHE IS WILD. )
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( he's popping the cupcake into his mouth, resisting the urge to groan as it's cinnamony sweetness indulges his senses. ) No idea.
( hell if he knows what it does, he's never been one to pay much attention to directions, and any warning labels were quickly cast as a mental side note because, well, the table was fucking covered in sweets. a guy can only have so much self control. and for one that doesn't usually care what bit of it is held, in the physical regard, he finds himself far more fixated on how these particular treats may affect that manner of control, and, all the more, how her own wavers.
probably doesn't help that he's about two of them deep by the time she'd gotten there, and mixed his plate with various goodies with, apparently, all different totems of effect. it's kind of difficult to tell whether the interest kindling in his system is just his character, typical, or the baked goods at hands. but he's willing to find out. ) C'mon, Miss Daisy- ( couldn't help himself. )
You afraid some sugar's gonna make me that much more irresistible? ( cue a wink, because it's dean winchester. )
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You don't exactly strike me as the LinkedIn kind of type. But that wouldn't matter much. I have more than a few tricks up my sleeve. ( Anyway, despite his somewhat leery side, he's definitely not like the kind of douchebag frat bros she used to date.
Daisy looks thoughtful when he teases her. She swings out from underneath the picnic table and turns. It almost looks like she's going to leave, but she's striding to his side, slipping in beside him. It's a little bit of a squeeze, but she doesn't mind and she doubts he would either. Pressed up against each other at the thigh has something appealing about it, and she leans across to snack a sweet from his plate. It's soft looking, spongy, and it smells like ginger. )
I don't think it's your sugary side I'm interested in, but I'll stick around to see.
( She takes a bite of the cake, humming in delight before she offers him the rest by lifting it to just about mouth height. She double dares you, Dean. )
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it's only once she stands again that he realizes the root of the confections that may have actually gotten their roots in him, unable to help his gaze from falling to the lean graze of her limbs, how well she works an outfit that's all too similar to his own, hitting him with the same jut of arousal he'd fine before another with nothing on. if that wasn't saying something, the way fire zings low from his navel the moment she's beside him will.
he's greeted with a faint hit of her perfume, or maybe it's just her, and there's no denying or hiding the fact that he's more than a little entranced. )
No? ( silly question? sure, but he's always been a sucker for vocalizations. his whole world is shot to hell when she pretty much offers to hand-feed him the spongey cake, caution aside raveling a single, large palm to the lower of her back to give a swift, insistent tug to swoop her in closer. when he takes the treat from between her fingers he's not shy to include the their fleshy tips, grazing teeth against them before tilting his head back slightly wicked smirk falling back into place as he chews. )
And what side might you be interested in?
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That'd be telling.
( Her answer would probably be all of them. There's a familiarity about him that makes her want to understand. She knows as much as the next person that sharing and caring doesn't come easily for some people, and she's definitely under the impression it's the case for him. But his jokes and his charm have done something of a number on her anyway, caught her curiosity.
Maybe she's relieved to find herself wanting, after Lincoln. She's finally realising that she isn't dead inside, that there's a life for her to live and a whole realm of possibility still out there. Strange that she needed a city based on cuddling to help her heal, but she's not really complaining.
There's still icing on her fingers from where she'd fed him, and Daisy doesn't think twice before she's licking it off, something heated in her gaze. )
Is it doing anything for you yet?