For the Ugly Betty Holiday Advent Calendar over on LJ's the Bachelor and the Butterfly, here is my first attempt at fanfiction (I usually write about food). Always been an Ugly Betty fan, but earlier this year was very ill in hospital and, when convalescing, I watched every episode back to back. This is sort of the result. Please forgive any errors, especially American-isms - I'm from London. Oh, and this is for entertainment purposes only...
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fireplace is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow let it snow let it snow
"Did you hear the radio this morning? They said conditions were 'Arctic'. I'm thinking they have zero idea what the Arctic is actually like".
Such were Daniel's musings as he lay on the couch in Betty's cramped office, coffee cup balanced precariously on his stomach. Dressed like a college boy in his sweater and black Vans, he looked younger than his 37 years; his hair was getting long and slightly shaggy, and he'd definitely begun to re-grow his Beard of Sorrow, though as far as Betty knew, nothing concrete was bothering him.
Betty closed her laptop and looked at Daniel with her usual mixture of annoyance, fondness, amusement, and … something else which she couldn't quite pin down, which had been cropping up more and more often lately.
"And, oh my God, the Tube was totally screwed – it took me half an hour longer to get over here", he continued. "They should see what a real winter is like. Ten flakes of snow and it's like 'Call out the National Guard".
At this, Daniel suddenly got up, almost spilling the coffee, "Hey, do they even have a National Guard here?"
"Daniel", Betty began, "As much as I'm enjoying your commentary on the inclement weather in London, isn't there somewhere you have to be? Like a class? I really need to finish this piece by lunchtime before everyone gets Royal Baby-ed out".
"No classes today – the tutor couldn't get in because of 'snow on the line' - you have me all to yourself today", and his eyes twinkled at her as he took another sip from his coffee.
Daniel had been enjoying his marketing diploma so far, and had been doing surprisingly well, but a legitimate excuse to play hooky was fine by him.
"Fine, well, can you be quiet for a little longer? I'm almost done" and she rebooted her laptop to resume pecking at the keys.
"So what angle are you taking?" he suddenly asked. "You're Betty Suarez, not Suzuki St Pierre. So I'm assuming there'll be no seedy speculation about how Prince Harry might help?"
"What? No! Of course not", Betty said testily, "And what do you mean by that anyway?"
"You know … the old cure for morning sickness? Ginger? As in, ginger Harry?"
"Ew, no – that's gross, Daniel. Are you five years old? Never mind – don't answer that. If you must know, it's a piece about hyperemesis gravidarum. As in, the serious condition which Kate is suffering from, and which has seen her be hospitalised. The mass media has done her a horrible disservice by lazy reporting, and I want to set that right. It's not just 'morning sickness' – it even killed Charlotte Bronte!"
"How do you know that?" asked Daniel, "Surely everyone died of consumption in those days?"
"It's just something I know". The words slipped out, and suddenly Betty felt odd and cold, though Daniel just laughed and lay back down on the couch.
Truth be told, Betty hadn't thought once about Henry since that Thai meal before Hilda's wedding when they'd agreed to part as friends, aside from noticing that his Facebook said he was back 'in a relationship'. What had really made her shiver was the thought that she hadn't been with anyone, or even considered it, for longer than she cared to remember.
"You know what else is retarded about this country? Apart from the fact that we can't use the word 'retarded', or 'spazz', without getting in trouble?"
Betty sighed, though his interruption was a welcome distraction from her lack of love life. "No, Daniel – what else is retarded about this country?"
"They don't have half and half. Hell, they don't even have heavy cream. The closest you can get is by mixing whole milk and something called whipping cream. The fat percentages are all over the place", and he screwed up his face whilst staring at his now-empty polystyrene cup.
Betty couldn't help but smile. "Since when have you been so knowledgeable about our international dairy disparity?"
"Since I got Food Network. Hey, I needed to find something to do in between classes. It's great – I've even learnt a few tricks and you know I make a mean spaghetti and meatballs now. Man (or woman in your case) cannot live on takeout alone, Betty."
Another sigh, and Betty clicked her laptop shut once more. "I miss my Papi's cooking like you wouldn't believe… Oh God, this isn't happening and you're making me hungry. C'mon - let's grab an early lunch".
Daniel punched the air softly, glad to have worn Betty down as she got up and pulled on her magenta coat – the coat she'd been wearing when he'd waylaid her in Trafalgar Square six months ago to say sorry and to start over. As she fastened the buttons, she caught him staring at her with a look on his face that she couldn't quite identify but she'd been seeing a lot lately.
Just as quickly, the look was gone, and Daniel said cheerfully, "You craving Mexican then? We could go to Lupita?"
"No, it's not the same and their salsa gives me gas – what I really want is one of Papi's breakfast burritos, and no one here does anything like it".
Daniel made a face, remembering Ignacio's fruitless attempt to feed him the first time he visited Betty's house. And then he remembered that that wasn't the first time he'd visited – the first time was when he apologised for humiliating Betty at that doomed Philippe Michel photo-shoot.
He smiled ruefully, thinking he'd had to say sorry to Betty a lot in all the years they'd known each other. Lucky for him she was a forgiving person.
As they walked out the building side by side, Daniel reflected on just how lucky he was that Betty had been willing to let him back into her life, even if it wasn't quite the way he wanted. But really, whose fault was that? He'd asked her out (sort of), she'd given him an awkward not-quite Betty hug, and then somehow they'd stayed firmly in the Best Friend Zone, and he'd been too chicken to try anything since.
To his eternal satisfaction, Betty had at least been too busy with launching and then running IGNITE to date anyone else, so he'd been her default plus-one at the many networking dos she'd had to attend. In fact, that very evening they were going to some charity event which IGNITE was co-sponsoring – Daniel had even got himself fitted for a stylish, new, thin-lapelled Prada suit in this season's midnight grey to make sure he dazzled as her arm-candy.
"Hey, you've got your fishy face on!" teased Betty. "I know, let's go to Hazuki and you can get your sashimi platter and pretend like you're a model".
"Whatever - so long as I never have to wear a school uniform again. Those shorts really chafed", laughed Daniel as they strolled along the Strand.
