storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2008-09-17 05:07 pm
storypaint) wrote2008-09-17 05:07 pm
Hole (Mason/Daisy)
Comm: none
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: Mason/Daisy
Title: Hole
Author: rhap_chan
Words: 664
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Dead Like Me is not my property. All fanfiction archived here is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Excerpt: "I thought of her when I saw 'em, and they were just sitting there without anyone to appreciate them, so..." He lifted a small vase onto the table, of the sort one found in receptionists' offices across the city. In fact, there was a logo emblazoned on it.
You know, I thought I had a pretty good handle on this little group: their ideas, their hopes, their dreams. It wasn't like they was essentially complicated. Rube was swallowed up in being the boss, even though he didn't understand who bossed him. Roxy wanted to do her time and go on. And Daisy? Daisy just sort of wanted to sleep with people. I couldn't detect any other emotion in her large, empty head, anyway.
I still wasn't quite sure what to think about Mason.
"Where is she?" he asked as I slid into the booth next to his that morning. I rolled my eyes. There was no question of who he was talking about. He had a small flower pinned jaughtily in his buttonhole. Maybe that had worked wonders back when he came from, but here the flower had drooped so much that it managed to make me feel sorry for it. I wanted to put the poor thing out of its misery.
"How should I know?" I replied, my standard answer.
"You live with her," he replied reasonably.
"She was gone when I woke up, okay?"
It wasn't a common occurrence, but it did happen occasionally, in the case of early bird sales. I just liked having the bathroom to myself for once.
Mason sighed and leaned back into the booth. After a brief interlude in which the waitress came back with our orders and Rube came back from the bathroom, he asked me again.
"Didn't she say where she was going?"
"Doesn't matter, anyway, this is her day off," Rube said, clearly as bored with the matter as I was. He began to scribble on his post-its thoughtfully.
"Mason, don't you realize that giving her a flower won't do anything?" I said, turning around in my chair to look at him in the other booth.
"I thought of her when I saw 'em, and they were just sitting there without anyone to appreciate them, so..." He lifted a small vase onto the table, of the sort one found in receptionists' offices across the city. In fact, there was a logo emblazoned on it. I squinted at it and Mason's fingers dropped onto the writing. The flowers in the vase were the same kind as the one in his buttonhole. Some sort of daisy, I thought.
"No one to appreciate them, hmm?" I said. "You should have left them in the office building. You know she'll just dump them all over your pants."
"Love," he said dreamily, "you make sacrifices for it."
"Sacrifices?" I said, quirking an eyebrow. "I didn't realize love was so... wet."
"Only once in a while, Peanut," Rube said, "or when you're damp behind the ears still. Here."
I turned to accept the Post-It from him and Mason rose from his booth to accept his. He looked around hopefully in case Daisy was coming in anyway.
"I think you have work to do," Rube said meaningfully, and Mason shrugged, grabbing the vase and headed toward the door.
"What are you going to do with that? I don't want it splattered all over my walls, Mason!" I said, catching his sleeve. "My place is enough of a dump normally."
"Here," he said, handing me the vase and suddenly grinning. "You keep it. Make sure she knows it's from me to you, just you alone."
"Why?" I said as we walked out the door. Passersby coming into the diner looked curiously at the flowers and I tried to put my hand over the company sticker, feeling conspicious.
"Jealousy, George!" he said, eyes burning with supposed genius. "It will work a treat on dear sweet Daisy dear."
"Yeah, sure," I said, so he'd go away, and he did, so I chucked the vase into a nearby trashcan and headed to work.
Surely lovesickness wasn't anything like Mason's behavior. Maybe one of these days I'd figure him out.
Then again, the guy did drill a hole in his brain. What's to figure?
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: Mason/Daisy
Title: Hole
Author: rhap_chan
Words: 664
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Dead Like Me is not my property. All fanfiction archived here is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Excerpt: "I thought of her when I saw 'em, and they were just sitting there without anyone to appreciate them, so..." He lifted a small vase onto the table, of the sort one found in receptionists' offices across the city. In fact, there was a logo emblazoned on it.
You know, I thought I had a pretty good handle on this little group: their ideas, their hopes, their dreams. It wasn't like they was essentially complicated. Rube was swallowed up in being the boss, even though he didn't understand who bossed him. Roxy wanted to do her time and go on. And Daisy? Daisy just sort of wanted to sleep with people. I couldn't detect any other emotion in her large, empty head, anyway.
I still wasn't quite sure what to think about Mason.
"Where is she?" he asked as I slid into the booth next to his that morning. I rolled my eyes. There was no question of who he was talking about. He had a small flower pinned jaughtily in his buttonhole. Maybe that had worked wonders back when he came from, but here the flower had drooped so much that it managed to make me feel sorry for it. I wanted to put the poor thing out of its misery.
"How should I know?" I replied, my standard answer.
"You live with her," he replied reasonably.
"She was gone when I woke up, okay?"
It wasn't a common occurrence, but it did happen occasionally, in the case of early bird sales. I just liked having the bathroom to myself for once.
Mason sighed and leaned back into the booth. After a brief interlude in which the waitress came back with our orders and Rube came back from the bathroom, he asked me again.
"Didn't she say where she was going?"
"Doesn't matter, anyway, this is her day off," Rube said, clearly as bored with the matter as I was. He began to scribble on his post-its thoughtfully.
"Mason, don't you realize that giving her a flower won't do anything?" I said, turning around in my chair to look at him in the other booth.
"I thought of her when I saw 'em, and they were just sitting there without anyone to appreciate them, so..." He lifted a small vase onto the table, of the sort one found in receptionists' offices across the city. In fact, there was a logo emblazoned on it. I squinted at it and Mason's fingers dropped onto the writing. The flowers in the vase were the same kind as the one in his buttonhole. Some sort of daisy, I thought.
"No one to appreciate them, hmm?" I said. "You should have left them in the office building. You know she'll just dump them all over your pants."
"Love," he said dreamily, "you make sacrifices for it."
"Sacrifices?" I said, quirking an eyebrow. "I didn't realize love was so... wet."
"Only once in a while, Peanut," Rube said, "or when you're damp behind the ears still. Here."
I turned to accept the Post-It from him and Mason rose from his booth to accept his. He looked around hopefully in case Daisy was coming in anyway.
"I think you have work to do," Rube said meaningfully, and Mason shrugged, grabbing the vase and headed toward the door.
"What are you going to do with that? I don't want it splattered all over my walls, Mason!" I said, catching his sleeve. "My place is enough of a dump normally."
"Here," he said, handing me the vase and suddenly grinning. "You keep it. Make sure she knows it's from me to you, just you alone."
"Why?" I said as we walked out the door. Passersby coming into the diner looked curiously at the flowers and I tried to put my hand over the company sticker, feeling conspicious.
"Jealousy, George!" he said, eyes burning with supposed genius. "It will work a treat on dear sweet Daisy dear."
"Yeah, sure," I said, so he'd go away, and he did, so I chucked the vase into a nearby trashcan and headed to work.
Surely lovesickness wasn't anything like Mason's behavior. Maybe one of these days I'd figure him out.
Then again, the guy did drill a hole in his brain. What's to figure?