Strange Glue
This Chapter: Betty and Daniel arrive at her house and Daniel gets settled in.
A/N: Nothing in particular happens in this chapter as it's really mostly filler before the good stuff starts in the third chapter, but it has a few nice moments, I think. Many thanks to all the reviewers for the first chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one.
Chapter Two: Your Place Or Mine?
Daniel was by now thoroughly beginning to feel the Christmas spirit, and had let his driver have the night off. Instead, they travelled together on the subway to Queens. Betty had refused Daniel's offer to pay for a cab on the grounds that it would be too expensive – that and she had a return ticket to use up – but he had seemed more than willing to use public transport.
Betty realised, as soon as they'd sat down on her train home, that Daniel had obviously never been on the subway before, as he was counting stops and constantly ensuring they hadn't missed their station. He spent the entire journey looking alternatively fascinated and terrified, and at one point suffered so badly with claustrophobia that they had to get off at the next stop and wait for the following train. Betty found his childlike reaction quite endearing.
On the walk to her house, Betty pointed out various landmarks from her childhood. None of them were particularly notable, but she seemed to have an anecdote about almost everything, whether it was getting her head stuck in railings or having to wait, keeping watch, for Hilda to return from a liaison with a secret boyfriend. She even pointed out a paving slab where Justin had tripped, aged three, and ended up with stitches in his knee, but only cried over the fact that he'd ruined his favourite jeans.
It was strange to Daniel to hear about a neighbourhood like this, and Betty's childhood in the area. When he was growing up, the nearest neighbours lived several miles away, and all the shopping was done in the grand stores of New York City. The only story he could think of to tell was about attention-seeking in Tiffany's by throwing a tantrum – Claire had completely ignored him, left him there, and returned an hour later laden with bags to find him still sitting on the floor. He never had another tantrum in public after that. His story didn't sound the same as Betty's, though; her stories were humorous – his merely sounded like a bad childhood memory, although she did laugh nonetheless at the reaction of his mother, which sounded typical of Mama Meade.
Daniel's tantrum story only reminded Betty of another tale of her own. She was quite aware that she was rambling on about things she was certain he had no interest in, but it was only to fill the silence. He seemed content to let her continue, and she was enjoying having someone to tell the stories to, someone from a different world. It was strange, she thought, how completely comfortable she felt talking to him. It had only been a few months, after all, since she'd even started working at Mode. She had never anticipated being such good friends with her boss.
It was a fairly long walk to Betty's home, but when they finally approached the neat little house in the middle of the row, Daniel felt it had come too soon. He could easily walk around the block another five times if it meant more of Betty's company.
Of course, arriving at the house didn't mean he'd see any less of her, but suddenly he wanted them to be completely alone, as they had been on the walk. Well, alone was relative – there had been other pedestrians and a few last-minute shoppers, some kids hanging around in groups, but they were oblivious to the pair. Daniel had become so completely lost in Betty's world that he had barely noticed them anyway.
"Well, here we are," she said, redundantly. "I guess I should have called ahead to warn them, but it probably won't be a problem."
Daniel looked up at the house. A warm glow emanated from the windows, and neighbouring houses were bedecked with lights. He remembered standing on her front porch a year ago, confessing feelings he'd never had before for a woman he never wanted to see again. Shaking off the memory, he asked, "Are you absolutely sure it won't be a problem?"
"It's a little late now if it is…"
So saying, she unlocked the front door. The warmth from within finally dragged Daniel over the threshold, into the cosy Suarez home. Betty wandered in ahead of him, but Daniel stayed momentarily in the porch. The friendly voice of Ignacio filled his ears as he greeted his youngest daughter.
"Hola, mija. You're early. I wasn't expecting you for another two hours."
Hilda spoke up next. "Did Mr Grouchy Meade actually let you go early?"
"Well, actually," said Betty, "you can ask him that for yourself…"
Daniel assumed that was his cue to come out of hiding, and he stepped into the main part of the house. He gave a sheepish wave. "Hi, everyone."
Justin, ever reduced to a mass of teenage oh-em-gee by the presence of the youngest Meade heir, bounded towards him. "Are you staying for dinner? Can he stay for dinner, mom? He's so staying for dinner."
"Actually," clarified Betty, "he's staying for Christmas."
This statement effectively silenced the rest of the Suarez clan, though Justin's grin had perhaps doubled in size. Hilda raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. Finally, Ignacio broke the quietude.
"What happened to Henry?" he asked.
"Oh. He's been asked to stay with Charlie's family for a couple of weeks." Betty was getting sick of explaining the situation, and attempted to look nonchalant about it for the sake of her family, forcing a casual shrug. "Kind of a bummer, but not to worry because Daniel's going to take his place at the table. Aren't you?" she prompted, jabbing Daniel in the ribs with her elbow.
"Ow! Yes. If that's okay, anyway. I don't want to im-"
"I swear, Daniel, if you say that one more time…"
"Looks like it's decided," said Ignacio, interrupting them. "Welcome to our home, Daniel, as ever. It's our pleasure." Noticing that he didn't appear to be carrying a bag, he thoughtfully added, "I'll find you some spare clothes," and disappeared upstairs.
The atmosphere relaxed considerably, and Daniel settled himself on the sofa, content to watch the Suarez world go by for a while. Betty headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes, leaving Daniel downstairs, whilst Hilda joined him on the sofa, flicking channels absently.
Justin approached, after a while, hiding something behind his back.
"I wasn't sure if you were coming," he said, "but I saved this for you anyway…" He pulled out a Christmas ornament – not the one Daniel had made himself the year before, but a new one – and some craft materials. "I made the base already, but it's in serious need of a glitter transplant."
Daniel laughed and took the proffered items. "Thanks, Justin. I'll get right on it."
"You don't have to humour him, you know," said Hilda, without looking over from the television. "If you ignore him long enough, he'll go away."
"You're so mean!" protested her son. "Just because you ruined Christmas…"
"I did not ruin Christmas!" Hilda protested, then paused, thoughtful. "All right, maybe I did a little bit, but at least we have a tree…"
Justin turned to Daniel for moral support, giving him a knowing nod. "A horrible tree."
"Justin!"
Daniel intervened. "If it's any consolation, I like your tree…" They both looked at him incredulously. He caved under the pressure of Hilda's gaze, though Justin also made a forceful silhouette, with his hands on his hips. "Okay, that's a lie. But you haven't ruined anyone's Christmas, Hilda, and Justin, you didn't have to save me an ornament. I'm not even family."
The teenager shrugged. "S'no big deal." He tried to sound unbothered, though it was clearly the biggest deal in the world for Justin to have a Daniel Meade original hanging from their neon pink disaster of a tree.
"Come on, you know I suck at this…" Daniel indicated for Justin to join him on the sofa, creations in glitter and glue not being his particular forte, and Justin eagerly sat down, grabbing the glue stick and giving instructions.
It was this scene that faced Betty when she returned downstairs a few minutes later, as her boss and her nephew put the finishing touches to their work of art. She stopped at the base of the stairs and watched the pair for a while.
"The trick," explained Justin seriously, "it not to overdo it. You need more glitter, but don't Liz Taylor it to death."
Daniel carefully sprinkled a little more glitter onto his cardboard angel. "How's that?"
Betty came forward at this point to admire his handiwork. "Perfect."
Daniel beamed, apparently genuinely quite pleased with himself, and Justin put the decoration to one side.
"Once it's dry, we can hang it," he said authoritatively, "but not before, 'cause if you get glitter on the couch Granpa will kill you."
"Kill who?" Ignacio had returned from upstairs, bearing an armful of clothing. He took in the scene. "Oh, I see Justin got you involved in our family tradition."
"It's not very good," said Daniel, bemoaning his decoration.
"It's not the quality that counts, it's the effort." Ignacio handed him the pile of clothes. "Here. These should fit. I doubt they're quite what you're used to, but…"
"Thank you, Mr Suarez, it's appreciated."
Ignacio nodded, then turned to his youngest daughter. "Betty, next time you drag him from the office, make sure he's got a change of clothes."
"Thanks, Dad…"
Ignacio headed back into the kitchen to finish whatever was for dinner, which was starting to smell delicious, whilst Daniel looked through the pile. They were all comfortable items – exactly what he needed for a pleasant Christmas away from his own life. He stopped at a pair of blue-and-white striped pyjamas.
"Wow," he said, "it's been a while since I wore some of these…"
Betty and her sister exchanged glances, apparently realising the same thought simultaneously. Hilda's eyebrows raised approvingly; Betty turned a bright shade of red. When she spoke, her voice seemed uncomfortably high-pitched.
"Umm… I'm going to help in the kitchen," she announced, hastily excusing herself.
Once within the relatively safe confines of the kitchen, Betty opened the refrigerator to get a nice, cold drink, suddenly feeling quite flushed. For good measure, she stuck her head inside the cool interior for a few seconds to numb her brain of her madly wandering thoughts – thoughts she most definitely should not have been having about her boss, for God's sake…
"So," asked her father, distracting her, "this Henry thing – you weren't just saying that, were you? He is with Charlie's family?"
"What? Oh. Of course he is; it's only temporary. He'll be back in…" she mentally counted "… ten days."
"If you're sure, mija."
"Why would I lie?" She was becoming exasperated – couldn't everyone just drop the Henry issue?
"I don't know. It just seems awfully convenient for you to bring Daniel over here in his place…"
Betty pointed towards the lounge and the front door beyond. "Do you want me to tell him to leave?"
Ignacio stopped stirring the concoction on the stove and turned, waving his hands calmingly. "No, no, of course not… I just hope you know what you're doing. If it's just to make Henry jealous…"
"It's not." Although the thought had crossed her mind, at one point, after she'd already invited Daniel for his own benefit. "I'm doing Daniel a favour," she clarified, mostly to herself. "He's got nobody to spend the holidays with, so I thought…" She sighed, looking to her father for advice. "Was it a bad idea? I don't want Daniel to think I'm just using him to get back at Henry…"
Her father moved over to take Betty's hands in his. "Betty. It was a very nice thing to do, and I'm sure Daniel appreciates it. He wouldn't have agreed otherwise. I know you two have a close bond, and that Henry not being here is difficult for you… I just don't want to see you get hurt, mija."
"I know…"
"Now," he said, effectively drawing the conversation to a close now that he was satisfied Betty's reasons were sound, "why don't you go and tell everyone that dinner's ready? I hope Daniel likes enchiladas."
-—d-b—
"Mr Suarez, that was delicious." Daniel sat back, stretched, and patted his stomach in a satisfied fashion. "Betty is always saying what a good cook you are, but this is the first time I've experienced it first hand. Now I don't just have to take her word for it."
Ignacio waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. And you don't have to call me 'Mr Suarez', 'Mr Meade'…"
"Fair enough. Point taken."
Hilda and Justin, sensing an opportunity, both yawned simultaneously and left the table first, effectively avoiding being lumbered with the washing up. They got halfway towards the lounge before Betty called after them.
"Hey, Hilda, it's your turn!"
"Let Daniel do it!" she called back.
"That's just plain rude – he's a guest!"
"It's okay, Betty," said Daniel placatingly. "I don't mind."
"Well…" There was going to be no arguing with him – he was already gathering up the plates. "Fine. But I'm going to help."
"That sounds fine to me," said Ignacio, stretching. "These old bones could do with a rest." So saying, he got up and joined his daughter and grandson in the lounge, where the sound of their soap opera could already be heard emanating from the direction of the television.
Daniel deposited the dishes in the sink and filled it with water, and Betty took it upon herself to dry and put away. The irony had not escaped her that Daniel was, for once, cleaning up someone's else mess – including her own – rather than the other way around. They passed the time in amicable silence, Betty absently humming a Christmas song without realising she was doing it.
"What's that?" asked Daniel, handing her a plate.
Betty stopped humming. "What's what?"
"What was that you were just singing?"
She thought about it. "I… don't remember."
"It was pretty." He didn't elaborate on whether it was the song or the singing itself he was describing. Betty became very self-consciously aware of herself, determined not to fall into the trap of letting herself get too comfortable around Daniel, even though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why that would be such a bad thing.
To distract herself, she struck up a conversation. "So, are you glad you came?"
"Very. Even with the added chores."
"I'm happy you're here," she admitted. "I kind of invited you for selfish reasons, too. If it had just been me and them, it'd just be 'Henry' this and 'Charlie' that… At least now they'll have something else to talk about."
"You don't have to explain. Besides, if I'm honest, I was starting to dread the thought of going home. I'm all for the minimalist look, don't get me wrong, but at this time of year, its just a little…"
"Boring?" she supplied, smiling knowingly.
"Sparse," he clarified. "Depressing, actually. I just needed something more homely. I can't think of anywhere more homely than here."
"Home-made decorations and all…"
Daniel smiled, realising what she was referring to. "Justin's a good kid."
"He is. Hilda's lucky to have him. Even if he does shirk on his kitchen duties…"
Their conversation descended into idle chatter and a brief discussion on the next issue of the magazine, though neither of their hearts were really in it. With the dishes clean and dry, they finally joined the rest of Betty's family in the lounge. Ignacio was sitting in an armchair, so Daniel and Betty squeezed onto the couch next to Hilda.
Justin was beginning to doze against his mother, looking younger than his years, and Ignacio was yawning widely. They sat watching television for a while, but eventually it became a futile exercise.
Daniel and Betty were both exhausted from their hectic week at Mode. Betty was struggling to keep her eyes open, sitting with her chin propped in her hands, elbows on her knees, staring through half-closed eyelids. Daniel wasn't faring much better, periodically opening and closing his eyes and jerking awake every few seconds.
Finally, Ignacio announced that it was time for bed. Instantly, Justin was awake and complaining, but Hilda was insistent. Then, there was the problem of the sleeping arrangements – something Betty hadn't considered when she'd invited Daniel. Obviously, she and Henry would have shared, and there wouldn't have been a problem.
Justin excitedly demanded a sleepover-style arrangement, but the idea was immediately quashed for being entirely inappropriate, no matter how innocently it had been suggested. That was the kind of information Daniel didn't want ending up in the wrong hands – specifically Wilhelmina's, though the idiots at Fashion TV came a close second. Then, Betty came up with the entirely more plausible idea of Daniel taking her bed for the duration, whilst she slept on the couch.
Daniel's protests fell on deaf ears. Betty's decision was final. He looked to her father for some moral support, but the elder man merely shrugged. Clearly, Betty's word was law.
To be continued...
A/N: If you're interested, the song I imagined Betty humming at the sink was "Fairytale of New York" by the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. If you imagined a different one, I'd be intrigued to know what it was!
From this point on the angst is really going to set in, as Betty and Daniel really have some thinking to do. Whilst this chapter was shorter than the first one, I'm hoping to keep them roughly the same length each time.