This is my first-ever Driving Miss Daisy fanfic, for the play and for the site! I love the relationship between Daisy and Hoke, how their friendship transcended the racial boundaries of their time and proved that love is indeed colorblind. I don't know about other fans of Alfred Uhry's awesome play, but I think that, on some level, Hoke and Daisy's relationship even went beyond friendship - let's face it, these two genuinely loved each other, even though they couldn't say it. I realized that when I saw Angela Lansbury interviewed for the 2013 Australian production of the play - look it up; her insight is pretty cool. Needless to say, when I saw this OTP prompt, I couldn't resist writing a fun, yet sweet, moment for Hoke and Daisy. I'm following the aforementioned Australian production's casting for this story - Angela Lansbury as Daisy and James Earl Jones as Hoke. If you haven't yet seen this version of Driving Miss Daisy, please do yourself a favor and watch it!

Imagine Person A of your OTP up in the middle of the night (whether it be insomnia, jet lag, or messed up sleep schedule) making food. Person B wakes up to the sound of Person A, believing that there's an intruder in the house so they grab the closest thing to them, a hairbrush. Person B manages to fumble their way down to the kitchen and find Person A, making food. Due to being half asleep, Person B thinks that Person A is the intruder in their home and hits Person A on the head with their hairbrush. Person B then realizes that they just hit Person A on the head with their hairbrush and apologizes nonstop.

CLUNK!

The sudden noise, so out of order in the Werthan household, roused her from her sleep. Time had passed since she lay down for a nap: the sky had darkened from clear azure to deep indigo, and the wind was howling around the eaves. Trees were rustling their leaves, adding to the evening din. It was probably just a branch falling on the roof, she reasoned to herself, laying her head back on the pillow. Nothing to be scared about.

CLUNK!

This time, the noise snapped Daisy Werthan's eyes fully open, and she sat bolt upright in bed. That racket wasn't coming from outside... it was inside. What on Earth? Another clunk, followed by a rustling of paper, brought Daisy out of bed, as fast as her aging body would allow. There's someone in my house! Going through my papers, my things... she heard a door open, bottles clinking, and then the door shutting. My food! My icebox! Indignation flaring, Daisy smoothed out her blue dress and her hair, drawing herself up to her full five feet, eight inches. She had just begun sneaking to the door when she froze in place. Wait a minute. What am I doing? He could be armed! I can't go down there without a thing to defend myself! Silently wishing Hoke Colburn, her loyal chauffeur, hadn't left early, Daisy cast her sight around her room until she spotted... her hairbrush.

Perfect! Daisy padded to her dresser and seized the brush. Her late husband, God rest his soul, would have scoffed at her, muttering something about female fribble. Boolie would have laughed his tail off, and then she would have had to jerk a knot in said tail. Hoke? He would have laughed, and then grabbed the mirror that matched the brush to join her in defending her home – and her.

That was one thing she loved about Hoke. He may have laughed at her now and then, but he never failed to stand up for her when she was in trouble – or to her, when she was being stubborn. And he was refreshingly honest, unlike several folks she knew. He would have seen the brush's practicality as a weapon: the heavy, carved silver was enough to leave a dent in anyone's head. And after she dented the intruder's skull, Hoke would drag him out by his ears, because he was always ready to defend her honor... strong and good... oh, get ahold of yourself, Daisy! What on Earth are you thinking? Hoke is your chauffeur, and a man of –

She forced her train of thought to derail, right before the word color came to mind. I am not prejudiced. Hoke is my chauffeur and my friend. I can't be thinking such nonsense right now, anyway! I have to get this intruder out of my house! Clutching the brush tightly in her hands, Daisy crept out of her room and down the stairs, taking care to skip the step that creaked.

It was still relatively dark downstairs. Daisy pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen, slowly, quietly, and there, in the dim light, was the intruder. Light was spilling onto the checkerboard linoleum from the open icebox, into which the intruder was bent double. Daisy bristled. Stealing my food? Oh, no you don't! Shuffling soundlessly across the floor in her slippers, she reached the intruder just as he rose up. Raising the brush, she brought it down on his head with a sound whack!

"OW!" The intruder let out a cry of pain and leapt into the air – and so did Daisy, when she realized she knew the intruder's voice. Oh, no! Did I just hit...

"Dagnabbit, woman, are you tryin' to kill me?"

"Hoke?" Horrified at what she had done, Daisy scooted back over to the light switch and flipped it on. Sure enough, she intruder was her dear chauffeur, rubbing his head, his face screwed up in pain. "Oh, my God! Hoke!"

"Yah, Miz Daisy! Who'd ya think it was?"

Daisy pressed a hand to her heart. "Good Lord, I thought you were a burglar! I could've killed you!"

"Ya dang near did," Hoke complained, still massaging his head. "What you hit me wit', anyhow?"

Daisy blushed, wishing she could fall right through the linoleum. Reluctantly, she held out her silver brush. "This."

Hoke stared at the brush for a good minute before he spoke again. "That? Ya hit me wit' yo brush?" Slowly, the pain evaporated from his face and the corners of his mouth began to twitch. Only one second passed before Hoke's face split wide in a grin and he threw back his head, roaring with uncontrollable laughter.

Daisy felt her mouth drop open in shock. He was laughing, of all things? "Why in God's name are you laughing? Good grief, Hoke, if I'd have killed you... it's just not funny!"

"Wit' all due respect, Miz Daisy..." Hoke stopped laughing long enough to shoot his boss a wicked grin. "In a pig's eye it ain't funny!" he bellowed mirthfully, releasing another mighty laugh. "Ya, ya come down here thinkin' I'm a burglar, tryin' to defend yo'self wit' nothin' but a hairbrush!" He bent double again. "Whatcho gonna do next? Blind me wit' the Crisco?"

Try as she might, Daisy just couldn't stay mad. Her earlier thoughts were right: Hoke thought the hairbrush was hilarious, and darn it, he was laughing with her, not at her. The whole situation tickled her so that she finally burst out laughing, louder and harder than she had in a long time. They laughed on for what seemed an eternity, neither one able to control their chuckles. At long last, though, Daisy caught her breath, clutched at the stitch in her side, and attempted to clear her throat. "Oh, me," she giggled, wiping mirthful tears from her eyes. "It sure feels good to laugh."

"Sho' does," said Hoke, when he managed to straighten up. His hand went to his head again. "My head ain't feelin' too good, though." He nodded at the brush Daisy still held in her hand. "Ya gave me a goose egg wit' that thang." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Bet you've wanted to do that fo' a while now."

Daisy winced. When Hoke had first come over, newly employed by Boolie (against Daisy's wishes), he had been nothing but nice to her. An impudent, rude chauffeur would have been easy enough to report to Boolie, but not Hoke. His eternal optimism, gentle persistence, and genuine kindness had grated on Daisy's nerves for a good, long while. Stubborn as she was, and still smarting from her accident with the Packard (backing it into the Pollards' garage and sideswiping the tool shed had definitely not been her finest hour; her own stupidity had cost her some cherished independence), she had seen Hoke's kindness as his way of aggravating her. His offering to help her out with household projects, put in a garden for her? That, she had seen as treating her like a helpless old woman, like Boolie seemed happy to do. Now, Daisy felt ashamed for thinking such things, and for treating Hoke with such disdain early on. He never treated her like she was helpless, and certainly never like an old woman. He treated her like a person, with genuine respect. His kindness had broken the wall she had built around her heart after her husband's death, so much that she had found herself caring for Hoke in a way she hadn't since... well, since her husband was alive.

"When I first met you, I did," Daisy admitted quietly. "But I've gotten to know you since then. You still get on my nerves sometimes, just like I'm sure I get on yours, but I'd never deliberately hurt you, Hoke. Never."

Hoke smiled. "Aw, I know that, Miz Daisy. You a good woman. You crazy as a Betsy bug sometime, but you good."

Daisy grinned. Years ago, she would have been offended by this. Now, it was just part of the friendly banter she and Hoke shared. "Oh, really? Well, how about you making all that racket down here and waking me up? You were being clumsy. If you were a woman, I'd say your mama should've named you Grace!"

Hoke just laughed. "Don't I know it. Serve me right fo' not turnin' on the lights when I come in here."

"Well, why didn't you turn on the lights? That would've made a lot of sense."

"Remember when the 'lectricity went out durin' the snowsto'm a few months back? I learned to get around this house wit'out lights pretty darn good. It wasn't too dark in here, plus that fridge light is mighty bright, so..." Hoke shrugged. "I just wasn't countin' on my makin' so much noise. I didn't mean ta wake you, Miz Daisy. Or scare you."

"It's all right." Daisy watched him raise a hand to rub his head again. "Hoke, have a seat. I want to have a look at your head."

Hoke did as she bade him, but not without a wry grin. "Whatcho gonna do? See how deep a hole you left?"

"Stop being sassy." Daisy came up behind him and examined the spot where her brush had smacked him. Thankfully, he wasn't bleeding, nor was there a sunken spot indicating a skull fracture. There was, however, a raised bump that was rapidly bruising. Remorse for hurting him filled her. "Oh, Hoke, I'm so sorry."

"That bad, huh?"

"No, it's not bad. You're not bleeding and nothing's broken, but I sure put a knot on your head. I'm just sorry for being so stupid. If I hadn't panicked like that, I wouldn't have hurt you."

"Now, Miz Daisy," Hoke began, rising from the table and facing her. "Lord knows, you ain't stupid. Sho' nuff, you made a mistake, but you human! We all human. We all make mistakes. I know you wouldn't hurt me. You was just doin' what you thought was right. If I was in yo' shoes, I woulda done the same thang."

In spite of herself, Daisy began to chortle. "You would've clobbered me with a hairbrush? What have I ever done to you?"

"We ain't got all night fo' me to tell you that, Miz Daisy!" Hoke guffawed, doubling over for the third time that night, Daisy with him. They laughed on until Daisy straightened, cleared her throat, and wiped more tears of laughter from her face. "All right," she said, "now that we've had a good laugh, what were you doing down here?"

Hoke opened the fridge and showed Daisy the pieces of chicken marinating in Idella's special buttermilk batter. "Thought I'd fix dinner fo' you, since you lay down fo' a nap earlier."

Daisy smiled. What a dear the man was. "Hoke, that's so sweet of you." She strode to the fridge and took the bowl of chilled chicken out. "How about we fix it together?"

"Fine by me," Hoke grinned, as they set about preparing their meal. If anyone looked through the kitchen window that night, they would have seen Hoke and Daisy side by side: a white Jewish woman and a black chauffeur, two people who were supposed to be "separate" under a stupid set of laws. Society may have deemed them separate, but there was no denying the affection in their hearts was as equal as could be, forging a friendship that, unbeknownst to them, would show both sides that love did not discriminate at all.