Accusations d'amour
A/N: this little fic is set during the time when Betty is still with Walter. It may or may not be D/B in the end.
Flashlights and Razrs
"Hey, Betty!"
She turned. "Daniel! You're coming in early today."
"Yeah, I've got to plan some things for Paris." He fell into step beside her in the busy street. "Are you okay for next week?"
"Yep," Betty said.
"Your dad was fine with it?"
"Yep," Betty said, trying not to think of Hilda's rants.
"How about, um," Daniel said. "Wil- nah, never mind."
"Not Wilbur, Walter," Betty said, patiently.
"Sorry."
"Well, I haven't had a chance to tell him yet."
"You should be able to now," Daniel said, nodding at a figure coming at them.
Betty turned in time to see Walter appear before her. "Hi! I brought you a manually rechargeable flashlight, Betty."
"Thank you, Walter!" Betty said, uncertainly.
Grinning rather inanely, Walter pressed the rectangular package into her arms. Then, turning to the boss, he went, "Yo."
Again, in that absolutely humiliating trying-to-be-cool way.
Stop thinking like that, Betty thought fiercely to herself. He is your boyfriend.
Daniel smiled politely, his eyes betraying no emotion, though he wondered to himself as always what Betty could possibly see in this guy. "Hello, Walter." He looked to Betty, at Walter, back at Betty. "Well, I guess I'll get going. Betty, we can talk Paris when you come."
Walter stared at Daniel's departing back, and then turned to Betty, who was still cringing.
Trust Daniel to spill it before she had a chance to break it gently.
"Huh?" Walter asked.
Wondering how to phrase it, Betty was tongue-tied.
"Paris?" Walter asked. "You and – that guy?"
"Yeah," Betty said, and then looked alarmed at the single syllable her brain had managed to force into being. "I mean – not like – you know."
Still he stared. "But I don't understand, Betty."
Betty sighed, irritated suddenly and for no apparent reason. "Look, I gotta go," she said. "We can talk later." And she walked past, leaving Walter in the busy street.
Gone again, Walter thought. She always seemed to choose Daniel over him.
Betty knew she shouldn't have done that. But she couldn't stand that conversation, for some reason, couldn't stand explaining herself again – she'd explained countless things countless times since she'd landed the job at Mode.
And Walter bugged her more than she liked to admit.
She couldn't like Walter, a part of Betty realized, but her loyal heart slammed the opening of the idea shut. She had Walter, was lucky to have somebody who loved her.
It should be easy to tell him…just tell him she needed to go to Paris for a one-week fashion show.
Betty swung her bag onto her chair and went into Daniel's office.
"Hey." Daniel got up from his desk, holding a stack of paper. "I've got a print out of your e-ticket here, our itinerary, a guidebook, a phrasebook, a map, a list of phone numb-"
"Daniel. I'm the assistant, remember?" Betty grinned.
Daniel smiled, scratching his head. "Yeah…but in some way this is kinda…I don't know. Your trip."
Betty cocked her head. "My trip?"
"You know," Daniel said. "I wanna make it fun. So you can tell your family how untroublesome and great it was."
She smiled, slowly. "Really, don't worry about me. But thanks."
He smiled back at her.
She looked away, though she knew Hilda's words were nonsense…she, Betty, did not like – no, want – Daniel.
Raising an eyebrow slightly, he said, "Well. I've just gotta –"
He stopped abruptly mid-stride to his doorway, at Amanda's sudden appearance.
"It's fate," she breathed, smiling scarily, and he backed away slowly.
Advancing further into the room, Amanda caught sight of Betty. "Oh. You."
There was a pause.
"Er, yup!" Betty said. "Me."
"Oh I get it," Amanda said, turning to Daniel. "You want her." She jabbed an unsteady finger in Betty's general direction.
Daniel squinted at the receptionist. "Excuse me?"
"Go on, kiss her, or something." Amanda said, looking completely mad. "Just admit it. You've always liked her haven't you? She hangs on your every word and –"
"Are you drunk, Amanda?"
There was a pause.
"Yes!" She practically squealed the syllable, and gave Betty a push toward Daniel.
Given their height difference, Daniel and Betty did not bump mouths or even faces; instead, Daniel fumbled awkwardly to catch Betty, to prevent them from crashing backwards over a white sofa.
You weren't touching her, Daniel thought to himself, sternly, as he released his hold on her and straightened.
He looked up, annoyed, for Amanda, in time to see her motorazr flip shut.
"Ciao," she sang, and danced out of the room.
Daniel stared after her dazedly. "Well, she's finally lost it."
Betty gave him her disapproving look. "Maybe somebody should start considering her feelings more. So that her feelings wouldn't be taken out in strange accusations toward somebody's assistant."
"Alright," Daniel mumbled. "Okay. I'll just..."
He left the office.
Betty sighed.