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cripplecharacters · 6 months ago

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Hi! I have a character that has a slight limp due to injury, Im not sure if it counts as a disability or if this is the correct place to ask since what I find online differs a lot, but I figured it wasn’t wrong to ask. I’d like to know if there’s some advice from someone with personal experience. I know it depends on many factors, like the type of injury, the severity, etc. But I think all kind of input would be nice! I’m specially interested in difficulties people don’t usually consider (Does your bad leg bothers you even if you’re sitting down? Is there something that aggravates it that isn’t usually considered?) and misconceptions people may have (How much can you actually endure? Can you actually push yourself to do something (like run) or is it straight up imposible?). Most of the things I find online are about cures and hypotheticals so I’d like to know more about the mechanics about living with one. Any advice would be useful! Thanks!

Hello!

Yes, a limp can be a disability, especially if the underlying cause of it affects the person in other ways too. That being said, there are people who have permanent limps that wouldn't consider themselves to be disabled, which may be why you've found some conflicting information online.

To give some context for my further answers: I have a pretty bad limp in my right leg, which was caused by a past injury and has only gotten worse over time due to my chronic pain and issues with my joints -- especially those in the lower half of my body. I use a cane full time because of it and have used a wheelchair before when it gets bad.

You are right that it depends a lot on somebody's specific situation such as the cause and severity of their limp, but it also depends on other factors such as the part of their leg that is affected and any other conditions they may have.

Keep in mind that a limp is always the result of something, not the cause.

In my case, it's from my past injury to the leg as well as my chronic pain and other condition(s). However, the root cause isn't always pain in the leg or even in the leg at all. A limp can also be caused from an injury to the spine/back or other places in the body, chronic conditions such as arthritis, limb differences such as a leg length discrepancy, several neurological conditions, and a whole host of other things.

Because of all the different causes of a limp and the different factors that can impact somebody's situation, people's experiences can differ greatly. I can only speak from my own experience, so please keep that in mind.

Now, to address some specific questions you've asked:

Does your bad leg bother you even if you're sitting down?

I'm at the point where I don't typically notice my pain unless it's much better or much worse than usual. It's just a constant sensation in my life that I've gotten used to (For lack of a better term).

That said: I find that my bad leg is usually bothering me regardless of the position, though sitting or laying down is almost always better for it. It doesn't stop the pain entirely, but it does help to ease it and prevent my leg from feeling stiff or cramping.

With that in mind, it depends on how I'm sitting. Having my leg folded up (Such as when sitting cross legged) or sitting on my leg is the worst, even compared to standing, especially when in close quarters such as the back or middle seat in a car.

Most of the time, I'm fine with sitting in a chair normally or even cross legged with my bad leg pulled up but having my leg stretched out is better since it doesn't start to cramp or seize up.

The best position I've found is sitting normally on a chair with my bad leg outstretched and propped up slightly on a stool or a lower chair. Propping it up too high (Such as straight out or above the chair I'm sitting on) causes my knee to overextend, which makes my pain worse, while propping it up too low is just an awkward position and doesn't help.

On days when it's worse, sitting down doesn't do much for me except stop the pain from actively getting worse. These are usually the days where I can't stand for longer than a minute or two unassisted and for around five minutes with my cane or another support.

Is there something that aggravates it that isn't usually considered?

To be honest, I rarely see characters with limps in the media I consume so I'm not sure what kind of things are already considered as it is. That said, here are some of the factors I find make it worse:

Overuse: Being on my feet or pushing myself the previous day can cause the next day to be much worse. Before I stopped being able to play sports, I found that my limp was always worse after a hockey game or a particularly active practice. I'm still fairly active even without organized sports (Though I do play wheelchair basketball on occasion) and I now find that my leg is worse and my limp is more pronounced after I've been hiking or walking around.

Underuse: On the other hand, spending the day in bed or in one position also doesn't do me any good. My leg begins to ache and cramp up if I can't stretch it frequently. In general, a good balance for me has always been shorter, frequent walks throughout the day or one longer but slow-paced walk.

Standing Still: This may sound counter-intuitive but standing still (Or generally keeping my leg in the same position for so long) actually aggravates my leg more than being active does. Walking around allows me to move and stretch my leg out. Keeping it in one position too long makes the pain worse and causes it to seize up and cramp. If I'm able to, I'll usually try walking back and forth or even just taking a few steps but sometimes this isn't possible when waiting in line.

Weather: When there's a sudden shift in the weather, especially in the air pressure or when it becomes damp, my leg tends to ache more and be more stiff. Usually this is when a big storm is coming or there's a drastic shift in temperature but even just cold or damp weather in general makes it worse. I don't fully understand the science behind it myself, but this article [Link] goes into it a bit.

Other Injuries/Pain: Though this isn't something people tend to think about, having pain in other parts of the body (Especially the opposite leg) can make my limp worse. If it's pain in a completely different part of the body such as a headache or stomach ache, it usually has no effect. For pain in my back, arms, or other leg, however, it can have a big effect. This is usually because my bad leg has to compensate in some way. This could mean putting more weight on my bad leg to take weight off of a sprained ankle on my 'good' leg, walking with a slightly different gait to avoid worsening back pain, or needing to use my cane on the other side to compensate for shoulder/arm pain.

Poor Footwear: This is one I am... very guilty of. My combat boots don't have the best support but they're what I have right now and I can’t afford better footwear or orthotics right now. This is to say, wearing poor footwear such as flipflops, sandals, or other shoes without proper support will make a limp worse. I don't personally notice much of a difference with my boots since I use them all the time regardless but wearing flipflops is very difficult because I have no stability in them.

Something to note is that sometimes bad days can come on with seemingly no cause at all. Though I don't doubt that there is something influencing it in the background, it's not always possible to pinpoint what it is.

How much can you actually endure? Can you actually push yourself to do something (Like run) or is it straight up impossible?

On a good day, I'm sure I could run for a bit if I absolutely had to but I would certainly be paying for it later. Running puts a lot of strain on my leg and I know from experience that on a very bad day, I wouldn't be able to get very far without my leg giving out, even if it was a life or death situation. I'm unsure how adrenaline would effect that, however.

Something to keep in mind is that for a lot of people with limps and/or chronic pain (Myself included), the pain is rarely linear. There are days where I feel great and I barely notice it and there are other days where I can hardly walk without wanting to cry from the pain. And I have a fairly high pain tolerance.

In general, I am fairly fast with my cane. I'm able to walk at the same speed as most people my age and I generally tend to outpace them on a good day. My cane helps me avoid putting too much weight/strain on my leg and also helps with my balance issues. Without my cane, I'm usually in too much pain and don't have the stability to walk normally.

Whenever I do have to push myself to do something (Such as navigating the stairs during a fire drill or carrying my gecko's terrarium into my room), I try to get ahead of the pain if it doesn't show up immediately. Ice packs help to mitigate any swelling or pain that might come and I usually have pain meds with me to take just in case. I usually take a Tylenol (Or the generic version) and an Advil (Or the generic version). This is at the advice of my doctor to help with my specific issues, I strongly advise against mixing pain meds without approval from your doctor.

Phew, that was more than I thought I'd type about this! Hopefully some of this is helpful, I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

#mod icarus #mynameisactuallyten #limp representation

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wardenparker · 22 days ago

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Countdown to a Kiss

Dave York x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 10.4k Warnings: None to speak of, really? Food and alcohol, brief clothing/outfit mention. Single Dad Dave and Single Mom Reader. Flirting. Fluff. Implied sex. Summary: Attending a New Years Eve fundraiser at your daughter's school doesn't seem quite so daunting when you get to spend the night with her best friend's single father - Dave York. Notes: Happy 2025, everyone! A little festive fic to ring in the new year 🍾🎆 (As always, the gif is just for vibes, not for physical representation of the reader.)

Dave doesn’t move like he used to. There’s muscle weakness. He sometimes limped. His grip strength in his right hand - his dominant hand - is significantly less than what he was just a year ago. It was better than it had been right after the hours of surgery he had endured, but he would never be what he was. Be it a blessing or a curse, Dave York was different.

However, how could he say no to those warm, gentle brown eyes when they look up at him with so big a pleading? Looking so much like his own without the cynicism and rancor he had developed over time. Little Molly hadn’t had the hard life lessons he had, and he hopes she never does. Alice, older, more observant, is slightly more jaded but she had been old enough to understand that someone had hurt her daddy when he had been trapped on that hospital bed for weeks. He had avoided telling her the truth, but she was also smart as a whip. She didn’t believe him when he said it had been an accident.

“You girls really want to go to this New Year’s dance?” He asks, glancing at both of them as the three of them stand in line at the grocery store with the supplies for the grilled chicken dinner he had planned. Since Carol had left, grilling had been his go-to for meat, since he hated the dry, pan fried pork chops she had served him for years.

“Yes!” Both of them immediately answer, nearly shouting and Dave sees several people glance his way and shift uncomfortably at the sight of the deep, ugly scar over his eye. He had just been lucky to keep the damn thing, so it doesn’t bother him. His girls still look at him, so that’s all that matters. “Please? Please, daddy?” Molly begs, making Dave soften, even though he had already decided to go.

“Alriiiiiiiiiight.” He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes because it makes them giggle. “We’ll go to the New Year’s Dance.”

Carol had been the shrewdest of the three women in his life. As was her right. He had married her for her beauty and her brains, but it seemed that when it came to her heart, even Carol York had limits.

The divorce had been ruthless, with Carol keeping the house in DC and two of the three cars. She combed the accounts -- the ones she knew about -- for all the assets she could possibly lay claim to. And she'd thrown away the girls just as quickly as she had their marriage. It was her claim that she wanted nothing to do with them in case they turned out like him.

So that was it. Dave, Alice, and Molly were on their own.

He had moved them away. Away from the mother that didn't want them and memories of the past. Mainly moving away so that he could make sure that Robert McCall didn't know he was still alive.

He didn't want to deny them much, so he had enrolled them in a private school. The best in the area. Hoping that the structure would keep them on track after Carol had let their schooling slip when he was in the hospital.

The first few months seemed to go alright. Molly had made several new friends, always being the outgoing type, but more reserved Alice had made only one. Still, Dave counted that as a positive. One new friend was better than none, and it boded well for her.

Dave had accounts Carol had never known about, would never know about. She had signed away all of her rights in exchange for no child support. He didn't need money from her, able to buy a house that was better than the one in D.C., even if it was smaller. He could hire a sitter for the girls if he needed but his business allows him to work from home and take the girls with him when necessary. He didn't kill anymore, but he didn't need to.

As a security consultant, he was able to navigate his business and his family life as needed. The newest piece of that puzzle was the girls’ school. Because of the nature of the school he was sending the girls to now, with its occasional political family, old money benefactors, and celebrity children all in the mix, they did require a level of finesse that he wasn’t much used to from a school. Their barbecues were practically Michelin star and their talent shows could have been Broadway caliber. The annual PTA fundraiser was a New Years Eve party that was so swanky it could have been mistaken for a Hollywood soirée.

"I guess we will have to find dresses for you girls." He muses, making a face that makes Molly giggle and Alice roll her eyes. His girls are beautiful and he hates that they are growing up far faster than they should.

"And you a pretty suit!" Molly reminds him.

"Daddy has pretty suits." Alice reminds her sister, and he can see the wheels of her clever little mind turning already. "The one that has the two rows of buttons," she tells her father, chin turned up to look all the way up at him. "Makes you look like a black and white movie."

He lifts a brow, the one that isn't scarred, at her comment. "That one, huh?" He asks, amused, although she has always had a flair for fashion. Her dress up clothes were always neat and coordinated. She hadn't been one to wear the same princess dress for months at a time. "You think I should shave?" He asks, rubbing the slightly unkempt stubble on his chin. Growing out a beard wasn't working for him, it was growing in patchy.

"Yeah!" Alice nods enthusiastically, but then seems to think better of the idea and frowns. "Shave your chin."

"Shave my chin." He barks out a laugh and nods, "message received." He hums as the three of them move up in the line to start putting their groceries on the conveyor belt. "I'll shave my chin."

"Marnie's gonna wear pink to the party." Alice reports, solemnly and with an air that said it would definitely affect the decision of what she would wear. But to her father, she adds, "Our party is different from your party."

"What happens at your party, baby?" He reaches out and strokes her back. He always wants her to be able to talk to him, to confide in him.

"It's called a Sock Hop." Her tone implies that since she had never heard the term before, she's absolutely certain her father hasn't either. "And there's gonna be pizza and ice cream and the teachers are gonna play games with us."

“That sounds like fun.” He offers, knowing he would like that party more than the one that they want him to attend. He doesn’t have much in common with the wealthy parents so he won’t have much conversation during the party.

"Do you know what your party will be like, Daddy?" Molly asks, equally excited to go to a sock hop with all of her new friends.

“No pizza.” That he knows for sure. “But I’m sure there will be music and dancing.”

"No pizza?" His younger daughter looks positively affronted at that idea. "How do you have a party without pizza?"

“I don’t know.” He nods to the cashier, watching her glance at his eye and then at the girls warily. He’s used to it, but it still stings sometimes, before this, he has been a pretty good looking guy. Nothing astonishing, but he had more than a few women giving him an interested glance. Now they just look at him and wonder what happened to his face. They wouldn’t even know how to react to the other scars he wears from that day. “I’ll have to report back if I survive.”

"Daddy." Alice scolds with a very serious expression. "You'll be fine." Sometimes she sounds so much like her mother that it stings. Sometimes, like now, she sounds like his mother.

“Are you sure?” He asks, pulling out his wallet to pay. “Because I’m not so sure.”

"Alice is always sure," Molly reminds him. The air of a little sister admiring the hell out of her big sister is obvious, and Dave can't help but grin.

The cashier seems to soften slightly, seeing his interaction with his daughters and she doesn't seem so hesitant when she gives him the total. He pays and loads up the groceries, letting the girls chatter between themselves as he wheels the cart out to the parking lot and nearly runs into a cart rushing into the store. "Whoa!" He yanks it back just in time and looks up, about to say something snarky when he sees that it's you. Marnie, your daughter, already lunging forward to hug Alice while letting out an ear piercing squeal that only pre-teen girls manage. It makes his tinnitus flare up sometimes.

The commotion drowns out your gentle scolding, and Marnie isn’t listening anyway. You’ll remind her afterward that she has to stay safe and aware of herself in parking lots — right now she’s too busy hugging the life out of Alice York and won’t listen to a thing that comes out of your mouth.

Frazzled single mom isn’t normally the look you go for but today has been a doozy, and you know your hair is a bit unkempt and your clothes not as neat and tidy as you would prefer. It wouldn’t matter to you except that you’ve run into your daughter’s best friend at the supermarket — which means he is here too. Alice’s father, Dave. Ridiculously hot, mysterious, definitely has seen some shit in his life but loves his girls so much, Dave.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you joke, lamely, and wish you had just stopped to run a comb through your hair before you left the house.

"Odd thing, that need for food." Dave always thinks that you are nervous around him. Little tics showing up every time you run into each other. Shifting, sometimes tripping over your words. He tries to be friendly to put you at ease, but it seems to never help. "You two busy today?" He maneuvers the cart over a half a foot and reaches out gently to guide yours to the side as well the man behind you can slip past. Not ready to let the conversation die just yet, his excuse will be the girls, but that's not completely it.

“The usual Saturday chaos,” you tell him, letting out a poorly disguised nervous laugh. He’s so stupidly attractive that it makes you flighty. Like a teenager with her first real crush. It’s probably that he’s the first person you’ve been genuinely attracted to since the divorce and that also makes you nervous. “Errands, swim lessons, going to grandma’s house. How about you guys?”

"Karate, lunch out, going to the park." He shrugs. "Now the age old question of 'what's for dinner?' has been answered." He motions to the bags. "Grilled chicken and asparagus, mashed potatoes and a salad. One of those caesar kits Molly loves."

“That sounds positively gourmet.” From everything you know about Dave York — which is admittedly not much — he dotes on his girls completely and takes incredible care of them. Which frankly, only makes him more attractive. “I think my mom was talking about meatloaf tonight.”

"Meatloaf is delicious." Dave agrees. "I've just never been able to make it." He misses Carol's recipe, but she wouldn't give it to him to make for the girls. All the ones online didn't sound similar to it so he had essentially given up the search.

“It’s not easy. My Mom’s is always infinitely better than mine.” You glance at your daughter and laugh. “Or so I’m told.”

“Oh yeah. I love the comparisons.” Dave snorts, rolling his eyes.

“So, um…” Watching the girls chatter excitedly for a long moment, you bite back your nerves and decide that you’re asking for Marnie. That’s it. Just for your daughter. And not at all for your own selfish interest. “Did you get the annual fundraiser notice?”

"I did." He nods, wondering if you will go. He knows that you aren't quite like the other parents either. He's always assumed that’s why you are a little more friendly with him than the other mothers. Your daughter attends the private school because it was a part of your divorce settlement. At least, that was what was whispered behind cocktail glasses at the first and last PTA meeting Dave attended. "The girls just begged me to go. So I have to ask, what shade of pink is Marnie wearing?" He had been informed there are many types of pink when he had gotten the wrong one once for the Barbie movie he took the girls to see.

“Ah, yes, I heard about the Barbie movie debacle.” It eeks a grin out of you, because despite Dave being a girl dad you don’t see him as a pink kind of guy. “That would be baby pink. I managed to unearth an old Pink Ladies costume from many moons ago and I’m altering it for her.”

"Baby pink." He nods and pulls out his phone to make a note. "I'm going to take them dress shopping tomorrow I guess." He looks up. "Are you going to the adult party?" He tries to keep the question casual, like he's just curious.

“I thought I might put in an appearance.” It makes the most sense for you to go. It’s better than spending New Year’s Eve at home with a bottle of wine and take out, anyway. Or, at least, you tell yourself it is. All those gossipy PTA parents know far too much about your divorce and all sigh about how much they miss seeing your ex-husband at events. The best you can figure, the Moms all miss drooling over him. You don’t want to think about how many of them he actually might have slept with. Keeping the girls in that school is good for them, but it’s a punishment for you.

"Me too." He sends you a commiserating look and shrugs. "Beats being alone and then having to pick the girls up later." He reasons.

"Daddy!" Alice's eyes widen like she's just thought of the greatest idea ever. "Why doesn't Marnie spend the night?" She asks excitedly. "After the dance. Please? Please? It would be so much fun!"

Marnie immediately jumps on that idea, pleading along with Alice the way only best friends can. You never really mind sleepovers, but you don’t know how Dave feels about them. “That’s a long night sweetie. The party is late at night.”

Dave is a sucker for the girls, maybe a little too soft, but after everything he thinks they deserve a little bit of spoiling. Nearly dying had truly put his priorities in order. "I don't mind." He offers. "If you don't." He shrugs. "Give you a night off if you want."

“As long as that’s okay with you.” It won’t be too much, after all. The girls will crash soon after getting home and you’ll come by early to pick up Marnie the next day.

He teases the girls by making them wait for a minute more, Alice and Marnie practically bouncing on their toes and Molly is just as excited because her older sister doesn't leave her out of fun with her friend. "Well, I guesssssss." He draws out, grinning when they start cheering and dancing in the entryway to the grocery store.

“You know what that means, girls,” You remind them in your best mom voice. “It’s still three weeks away, and Christmas is still coming, so we’re all going to be extra good. Right?”

He approves of the bribe, it's a good one and he nods in agreement when they glance over at him. "Gotta be good." He tells Marnie. "Help your mom out, m'kay?"

“Okay, Mr. York!” She’d do just about anything in the world to be able to spend time with Alice, so it isn’t much of a stretch to have her agree here.

Now that there is a plan, he hums. "We should probably go get dinner started, girls." He tells them, ignoring the whining groans and looks over at you. "Have a good night."

“Have a good night.” Your voice echoes his with a hint of a smile, bundle your daughter into the store to let the Yorks get on with their day. If you take a second glance behind you as you walk into the store…well…that’s perfectly fine. He didn’t catch you checking him out and you’re a grown woman. You’re allowed to have impure thoughts now and again.

******

It's a hassle, tying a perfect double windsor knot but the girls had insisted that he wear the polka dotted tie with his double breasted suit. He has to admit that it looks good with the crisp white shirt and pocket square against the dark charcoal of the suit. He had scrapped the hair off his chin but left the mustache, giving him a slightly darker, cleaner look.

Alice and Molly are in complementary pink and white dresses — Alice’s is more pink and Molly’s is more white, at their insistence — and their hair is done up in painstaking curls. Dave has had to learn, but the curve was unforgiving and steep.

Together they look exceptionally smart, and Molly giggles in the living room as her father adjusts his appearance for the eighth time in as many minutes. “Daddy looks handsome,” she points out to her older sister, who had very definite opinions about their father’s appearance tonight.

"You forgot cologne, daddy." She points out, arching a brow to look just like he used to when he would give her that look. He huffs slightly. "Why do I need to smell good?" He argues, although he is already starting to head towards the bedroom again to put some on. "It's not like I'm impressing anyone." He mutters to himself.

The ride to the girls’ school is full of upbeat pop music that Alice had picked out. She decided that she wanted to get excited but instead of listening to the 50s and 60s music that will get played at the party, she opted for the Barbie soundtrack yet again.

The music is definitely not to Dave's tastes and it makes his ears want to bleed, but he focuses on driving so he can ignore it. Now he understands how some targets caved under the pressure of torture. This is torture.

The girls sing along and giggle happily, keeping the volume in the car high all the way to the school. The kids’ party is in the gymnasium so he parks the SUV in the lot there and gathers them up, fully expecting that Alice will bolt the second she sees Marnie.

Dave adjusts his tie and suit jacket before he takes Molly’s hand. Proud of how confidently she walks towards the entrance to the building where he will drop them off for their party, he runs into you and Marnie.

The girls squeal, running to each other and wrapping up in enthusiastic hugs, and you’re left laughing with Marnie’s coat in your hands. “Well that’s certainly one way to say hello,” you admit, shaking your head a little as you turn to say hello to Dave. The word sticks in your throat, though, when you get a glimpse of him. All cleaned up in a double-breasted suit with a beautiful silk tie, clean shaven except for an incredibly debonair mustache…Dave York looks like a 1940s matinee idol. He could give Humphrey Bogart such a run for his money that Bogey would be broke on the sidewalk. “H—hi.” You finally manage to stammer out, instinctively hugging your long wool coat a little tighter around yourself.

“Hi.” He nods respectfully and sees you shiver. “Come on girls.” He calls out. “Let’s get you checked in.”

“It was so sweet of you to offer to take the girls tonight.” The five of you go in together, finding long tables set up in the school gym for check in with smiling teachers who are hopefully being paid a whole lot of overtime. “I have Marnie’s bag in the car and I promise I won’t be late in the morning to get her.”

Dave frowns and shakes his head. “You should sleep in.” He huffs. “The girls will either sleep in like the dead or be up at the crack of dawn. Either way, I’ll be up.” He chuckles. “I promised them New Year’s Day waffles.”

“You’re a miracle.” You laugh, knowing waffles are your daughter’s favorite food on the planet. Waffles, chicken tenders, and carrot sticks would be the only thing she ate if she fixed her own food. “How about I give you a call when I wake up and you can let me know how the girls are managing?” It had become necessary to exchange numbers ages ago when the girls had their first playdate, but you have never abused the privilege. Even if you had started at his contact info a little too intensely once or twice after an extra glass of wine at night.

He chuckles, ignoring the startled looks from the teachers checking in the girls. Some people find it amazing that he laughs or can joke around. “That sounds good. And if you’re hungover, a waffle bar cures all ills.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll avoid that,” you murmur, momentarily averting your eyes so he doesn’t see how damned soft you get at the sound of his laugh. It seems to you that Dave York doesn’t laugh nearly enough. “I do have to drive myself home, after all.”

“If you need a ride, you just let me know.” He murmurs seriously. He wants you to enjoy yourself. He might have a drink but he never drank much before either. It wasn’t a good idea in his former profession.

Before you can get too flustered or trip over your words at such a simple show of manners, it’s suddenly your turn to check Marnie in for the kids’ party.

Her teacher flashes you an expectant smile. “Marnie and Alice, my dynamic duo. Come on over!”

Dave has to check both girls in, so he sidles up behind you. It almost makes the five of you seem like a family, eager to enjoy the night.

The same thought occurs to you, but it feels dangerous to dwell in it. You’ve had this lingering whatever this feeling is for Dave since you met him a few months ago and you can’t let it get out of hand.

Once the teacher has checked the girls in, they give Dave a hug, only because he insists. Both of them are eager to get to the fun. “Have a great time, girls.” He tells them. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”

Marnie gets the same hug and cheerful goodbye, and for a second it really is like you’re here with Dave instead of just at the same time. The silence lingers for a moment before you chuckle under your breath. “Somehow I think the food is going to be better at their party than ours,” you joke. The list of pizzas that have been ordered is out on a nearby table and you just know the food for the adults will be pretentious fine dining.

Dave snorts and nods. “I’ve never liked escargot. No matter how many times someone tries to convince me that it’s good.” He sees you playing with the edges of your coat. It seems to be a nervous tic. “Come on.” He offers his arm since it’s the polite thing to do and those heels look dangerous. “Why don’t I buy you the first of the overpriced gin and tonics made with mediocre, well quality gin?”

“Sounds absolutely perfect.” The offer of his arm is downright gallant, and though you’re loath to make the comparison, for a moment you struggle to remember a single time your ex ever did something as chivalrous as offer you his arm or even open a door for you.

The two of you walk down the lit path towards the social hall of the school. Where the adults party was being held. It’s romantic with the white lights wrapped in the bushes and around the trees. Making him wonder if you wish you had brought a date.

Struggling for anything else to latch on to, you glance up at the man beside you and offer him a smile. “They did a nice job with the decorations this year.” Along with the silver lights all around you, there are golden lanterns near the entrance of the social building and you can see shimmering decorations inside along the hall.

“They know how to throw a party.” He agrees. “The last school the girls were in, they would have multicolored lights and handmade baubles.” He tells you. “Not bad, but a very different vibe.”

“Honestly?” You shrug a little. “I miss that kind of stuff. Marnie was in public school when she was little and loved all those homemade events. I did too.”

“Yeah.” Dave sighs softly. “I didn’t get to keep any of the homemade ornaments from when the girls were younger.” It didn’t make sense, since she didn’t want the girl, but he hadn’t argued. He just wanted to be done with everything.

“Neither did I.” Absolute bullshit that that was, but it’s a whole different story. “Divorce brings out the fucked up tendencies in people, if you’ll excuse my language.”

“Nothing to excuse.” He promises. “I completely agree with that sentiment.”

“Your girls are great though.” You can promise him that, even after a few months. “You got the good end of the deal with them.”

“I wasn’t going to let them be anywhere else other than with me.” Dave assures you. “Carol didn’t want custody at all.”

“Nick wanted just summer vacations.” You roll your eyes about the ridiculous way your ex had approached custody during the divorce. “Luckily for me, the judge wasn’t having any of his nonsense. She told him that Marnie was his child, not his accessory. I got full custody.”

“Good.” He nods and steps forward to open the door for you. Hating to lose the contact, even if you were holding his arm, but it’s good manners.

“Thank you.” It seems silly to be flustered over something so basic, but here you are. Swooning at common courtesy and letting him sweep you inside like a paper doll. “That’s…um…you know you don’t have to do that?”

“What? Hold the door open for a pretty lady?” Dave asks, smirking slightly. “It’s my pleasure, believe me.”

In your wildest dreams you can pretend that he’s flirting with you, so for now you will simply take the compliment and pretend. “Well…thank you. Here, um…” Suddenly you’re nervous and it feels so silly. “It looks like they turned the first room over here into a coat check.”

Dave doesn’t have a coat to check, but he goes over with you, watching as you untie the belt and his mouth dries up the second you slide the jacket off your shoulders. You look stunning. A blue dress, covered in gold stars, hugging your curves in all the right places and dipping down between your breasts. Now the starburst earrings make sense.

"What?" He's staring at you when you turn around and you panic. "Do I have something on my face? Have I had lipstick on my teeth the whole time?"

“No, uh, no.” Dave shakes his head quickly, feeling bad that he had made you panic. “I just- I was -“ what was he doing? Other than staring? “You look great.” He offers, feeling foolish for gawking like a teenager peeping on the girl’s locker room.

"Oh." Without your coat on, you feel a little shyer, but considering you played out a little fantasy in your head of Dave complimenting you in this dress and then it happened? You're just going to go on smiling and feeling good about this decision. "You clean up pretty well, too, you know."

“The girls dressed me.” It’s true, Alice had told him what to wear, so she had essentially dressed him.

You can't help but laugh at that, knowing how opinionated those girls can be. "She did a very good job."

“Thank you.” The signin desk is more of a payment station. ‘Donations’ for the party suggested. There are also drink tickets for sale and Dave decides he will buy some, even if he’s not drinking.

The tussle of protest ends with Dave the victor anyway, but at least you're satisfied that you made enough of an offer that he didn't feel obligated. He offers you his arm again and the gentle fantasy of this being an actual date seems closer with every step. "Maybe we'll get lucky," you offer, chatting because you're nervous. "And there won't be escargot."

“Pizza rolls.” He leans over and murmurs quietly. “Pray for pizza rolls.” It’s a joke, but his girls could live off of them if he let them.

"Ooo, yes." The snack food was never anything you had a taste for before, but now they are a welcome lunch option with a salad. "Or a bacon grilled cheese." You flash him a grin. "No crust, obviously."

“Of course not.” Dave rolls his eyes playfully and wonders if you are finding the conversation just as easy as he is. It was never just this simple to laugh and joke with Carol. “Crust ruins it.”

The main room of the building has been decorated just as well as the rest of the grounds, and as you walk through the door you're greeted with hundreds of glitter twinkle lights. The room seems to drip with them, like fantastical icicles in a winter fairy land. Whoever organized the decor for this party seems to have been told that everything should fall in the middle of a Venn diagram of Frozen and Bridgerton, so while there are delicate things and somehow it became magical instead of cheesy.

It’s a little ostentatious for him. ‘Froufrou’ as his grandmother would say. Brass bells and real fern sprigs make up the centerpieces, along with tapered candles, already lit and burning down. The tables are set with gold, and silver plates, crisp snowy white napkins that will be grease splatter and stained by the end of the night, and a bar that is presumably well stocked off to the side of the dance floor.

"It's so pretty," you breathe, completely by accident. You definitely meant to keep that thought inside just in case he disagreed, but it's out in the open now.

“And expensive.” Dave chuckles, catching the view of you discreetly gawking. “But, it’s pretty.”

"I'm sure they had decor leftover from previous Christmas parties and winter formals." It's too late to disguise the expression of delight on your face, though, so you just down play it with practicality. "Saves on the decorating costs."

“It’s okay to like it.” Dave promises, hating that you seem to deflate a little. He doesn’t want that. “I think they hit their target.”

"Sad single moms?" You laugh it off, putting that smile back on your face. No one likes a morose girl on their arm, your mother's voice says in your head. "How about we hit the bar?"

“That sounds like a plan.” He doesn’t offer you his arm, but his hand slides around you to your back as he starts to guide you towards the actual bar they have hauled in. “Gin and tonic?” He asks, knowing they are your favorite.

"Please." One word is all you can manage, but at least your smile is far more genuine with the feeling of his warm hand against you. It feels surreal and has you bordering on giddy -- practically forgetting that you had just been edging on embarrassment seconds ago.

Dave hums. “I’ll have one drink with you and then I’ll be the responsible one.” He makes it sounds like you’re a couple, but even if you wanted to venture out, he would make sure you got home safely.

"Don't let me spoil your fun," you insist, so used to the way your ex used to be so vocal about needing a few drinks to unwind.

“I don’t drink very often.” Dave admits quietly. “I’ll probably carry around this one until the ice melts.” He shrugs. “I don’t like not being in control of myself.”

"That is...a solid point." And a comfort that you hadn't been aware you would be glad to hear of. "I usually don't have more than one or two when I'm out," you tell him, getting into line at the bar when you arrive. "There's always someone else to take care of, or I need to be able to drive, or any other of a million reasons not to have more."

“So if you want to let loose a little tonight….” He lifts a brow. “Feel free, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “I’d say you deserve it.”

"We'll see." Although you can feel something deep in your chest fairly flutter at being called 'sweetheart'. "Do too much and I'll end up crashing the sleepover by sleeping it off on your couch."

He smirks slightly. “Don’t think that would be a bad thing.”

Before you can demure or tut, the pair of you reach the front of the line and the cheerful bartender defers to Dave to take both of your orders. Even with -- or perhaps sometimes because of -- his injuries, he has an air of a man who is in control no matter what the circumstance. And frankly? You've always found that as comforting as it is attractive.

“Gin and tonic for the lady and a whiskey sour.” Dave orders, sliding two of the overpriced tickets over to the bartender and then pulling out cash to put in the tip jar. Just because the drinks are expensive doesn’t mean the bartenders are getting a cut.

Generosity is rewarded with quick service and heavy pours, and soon enough you have your drinks in hand so you can wander away to join the quickly growing party. Waiters make their way through the crowds with trays of appetizers and a few people are already making their way out to the dance floor as couples and groups begin to arrive in earnest after dropping their kids off in other parts of campus.

“I don’t see any slimy snails.” He leans in to whisper in your ear, smirking slightly. “So far, so good. But not a pizza roll in sight.”

His breath in your neck makes you shiver unexpectedly and you’re not at all sure you hid it well. “We’ll have to file a complaint with the PTA,” you whisper back.

“What I wouldn’t do for a jalapeño popper.” He groans. “Or a plate of chicken wings.”

“I think we would both just rather be at a sports bar,” you observe, laughing at the obvious difference between that setting and this. “For no other reason than the snacks.”

“Sounds like.” He shrugs, knowing this is for the girls school, so it’s supposed to be a good cause. Just because it’s not his scene doesn’t mean others - you - won’t enjoy it.

"Maybe another time." It's just a thing to say. It's not necessarily an offer, or even a request, just the acknowledgement that you would both enjoy it. And that is enough.

“Yeah?” He’s surprised by that. It sounds like you’d like to go to a sports bar with him.

"I mean..." You could swear there is hope in his voice, and you look up with raised eyebrows. "If you want to? I mean stuff like this is beautiful once in a while but...I don't know. I think you can only go to these things all the time if you're fancy at heart. And I'm pretty sure that I'm comfy at heart."

“Comfy.” He chuckles at the way you describe yourself. “There’s this place I go to where the girls can come too.” He tells you. “Great potato skins and they love the fried pickles.”

“Yeah?” This time it’s your voice that holds hope, like he could actually be wanting to spend time with you and not just because your daughters are best friends.

“Mister York.” The excited tone of voice makes him wince slightly, turning to find the headmistress of the school barreling towards the two of you. She is the only one that knows that Dave wired the payment for the year for both girls directly, so he’s sure she’s hoping to lighten his pockets considerably. “So glad you could make it!”

“Whoops,” you mutter under your breath, obviously implying that avoiding this woman for the night is now a goal that cannot be met. There’s no reason Janice Harritt would want to speak to you, especially at a fundraiser, so you smile politely but aren’t surprised when she can’t manage to summon your name right away despite Marnie having attended her school for four years.

“Mister York.” Despite the smarmy tone, he sees the way her eyes flicker over his scar and there is a slight bobble to her throat where she swallows slightly before her hawkishly charming smile is plastered on. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She asks, obviously fishing for compliments as she gestures around. “The food is incredible. And the bar is stocked. What more could you ask for tonight?” She asks, looking back at him for approval.

Dave is an asshole. He knows this, and he’s quite proud of it most times. He sticks his tongue in his cheek and represses a grin. “Pizza rolls.” He answers seriously.

You snort, unable to contain the sound, and cover your face with one hand immediately to try to cover it with a small cough. A cough which isn’t really fooling anyone, but at least you manage to hide the fact that you’re trying not to laugh.

“I’m…sorry?” Harritt’s eyes betray her confusion, but she plays it off with a laugh. “Perhaps next year, hmm? We look forward to many years with your delightful girls, of course.”

“Of course.” Since he’s thrown her off kilter so badly, she quickly rushes off, calling out to another important parent. Leaving Dave to turn to you and arch a brow. “What did I say?” He asks sarcastically.

"I don't think she even knew the words 'pizza' and 'roll' could go next to each other in a sentence," you laugh, snorting again because you just can't help it.

“And she’s supposed to teach kids?” Dave snorts. “That’s making me question her credentials.”

"I don't think she's set foot in a classroom except to scold for a decade." A shrug of your shoulders is casual enough, but you're relaxed with Dave. Even if your belly is fluttering like a teenager with a crush, that's still more relaxed than you are most of the time. "Headmistress, remember?"

He rolls his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah yeah.” He grumbles. “Best leaders get their hands dirty.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But people like that are rarely into getting their hands dirty.”

“Very true.” He points over to a table. “Want to sit or do you want to mingle?” He asks, sure that if you want to go your own way, you would.

"Honestly?" The impulse to just tell him the truth comes out of left field, but it's there and it's strong. So you have another sip of liquid courage and offer him a smile. "If you weren't here tonight, I would probably only show my face long enough for it to register with the PTA that I was here, and then I would sneak off and read in my car until the kids' party was over. So mingling is...not in my plan, so to speak."

“No to mingling.” He nods, feeling a little proud of the fact that you would want to spend time with him. “Since we’re being honest, I have a question for you.” He sees you frown in confusion. “You don’t seem afraid of me? Why?”

"Why would I be afraid of you?" You ask honestly, not at all understanding at first. About two seconds after the question is out of your mouth, the realization dawns on you and you wave one hand to brush the question away. "Because of the scar? I just...I might be wrong, but I just assumed you might have been military? My uncle had a nasty limp and burn scars from Iraq. So I didn't--I guess I didn't really think about it after the first assumption. Which I now realize is stupid, because we always teach kids not to assume, but I did."

“I was in the military.” He acknowledges that. “Got out when a building collapsed with my team inside.” He chuckles, “but that didn’t cause this.” He tells you, gesturing to his face. “You just never seemed to be intimidated by my silence or the fact that I have resting asshole face.”

"Well...?" Taking another sip from your drink, you step up to a high top table just big enough for two when he steers you toward it and set both your glass and purse down comfortably. "You've always been nice to me, and you're sweet to Marnie. That's all that matters to me."

“She’s a good kid.” Dave assures you. He wouldn’t have let that friendship blossom if he thought she wasn’t.

"She's the best thing I've ever done." His commendation will stay close to your heart and you wouldn't mind admitting that at all. "And she has great taste in best friends."

“Alice is amazing.” He agrees, biased and not even a little ashamed of it. “Marnie is right there with her. Smart and compassionate. Honest to a fault sometimes.”

"I always told her that being completely honest was better than fibbing even a little. So...yeah. That one is my fault."

“That’s not a bad thing for now.” Dave chuckles. “Although sometimes you have to fib.”

"Well, sure." You chuckle along with him. "But I don't want to teach her that. They're still so young."

“They are. However, they are smarter than us already.” He snorts.

"I know, it's crazy." It's just so damn easy with him. Easy to stand together and drink and laugh. It's so easy that neither of you notice the party has been going on around you for quite some time while you have just been focused entirely on each other.

It’s getting later. Ever so often, the DJ will announce the time between songs and all the parents are getting more and more intoxicated as the drinks flow from the bar.

Smiling waiters with trays of hors d’oeuvres give way to a buffet of fine food, and Dave insists you indulge in a second drink if you want it, after you spent literal hours nursing the first.

Dave switches to Coke, the real crime here being that he still has to use a full drink ticket to get a half a glass of the soft drink. He doesn’t grumble, but it’s a little ridiculous, but glances over at you to see if you want a new drink.

Taking him at his insistence, you order a second gin and tonic and decide that that will be the last alcoholic drink of the night. Relaxing is one thing, but you have no desire for Dave to see you sloppy or out of control. He seems to appreciate maturity and intelligence, and you’d prefer he doesn’t see you any other way.

Now that the drinks are acquired, he leans in. “Shall we go see what they have on the buffet?” He asks. “I’m getting hungry and they have to have something good.”

“Let’s go find out.” You swear if he leaned in and breathed in your ear like that every time he made a request, you would jump off a damn bridge or something. Going to get food is the least of it.

He can’t stop putting his hand on your lower back. You look gorgeous and he’s noticed more than one discreet glance towards you. Appraisal by the women and approval by the men. For now, you are with him and he is more than a little happy about that fact. You are charming, kind, you love your daughter with your entire being.

“Same things as always.” Which is not bad, considering the food around here is excellent and the school inevitably chooses the same well-regarded caterer. At least this year there seem to be better vegetarian options for the few parents that apply to. You choose your entree and your sides by what is likely to cause the least mess — your velvet dress would not do well with a sauce spill — and before too long you and Dave are headed back to your little table with dinner in hand.

“They should do a Mac and cheese bar.” He knows his tastes have assimilated to the tastes of his kids, but it would be good. “That could also be classy.”

“Oohhh, I should make mac and cheese for dinner tomorrow.” The idea makes you light up, even more than the first bite of your dinner. “Marnie had cauliflower with cheese sauce at her grandmother’s and now I can actually get a veggie into her mac and cheese.”

“Add some carrots in there too.” He chuckles. “Tell her it’s extra cheesy.”

“Sneaky,” you commend with obvious admiration. “I’m going to have to try that.”

“Gotta be.” He snorts. “Sometimes I think I’m fighting for my life with both of them ganging up on me.”

“My ex used to claim that’s why he only wanted one,” you shrug and fork up another bite of your food. “He was already outnumbered with me and Marnie.”

“It was three against one in my former household.” He flashes you a sardonic grin. “I didn’t get my way often.”

“I think that’s what he was afraid of.” And after dipping into your second cocktail, you add, “Probably why he ran off with his secretary. She always did what he told her.”

“So he’s one of those assholes.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna say I never looked. I’ve got eyes.” He huffs. “But I don’t need my ego or anything else stroked by someone hoping for a raise. Especially when I was married.”

“Everybody looks,” you reason, knowing you had too from time to time. But you never would have acted. Never. “That’s completely different.”

“It is.” He sighs. “What kind of fucking example is that for your kids? ‘Hey it’s okay to fuck around on your partner’.” He curls his lip, making his thoughts on the idea perfectly clear.

“I’m lucky.” That’s something you know completely. “I didn’t have any of the agony of being aware while it was going on. It blindsided me, I got divorced, and I got Marnie. It could have been so much worse.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” It’s posed as a joke, since you have no clue that Dave is actually capable of doing it.

That draws an unexpected laugh out of you, pushing out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and you pick up your glass again to sip. “Ask me that question a year ago and I might have said yes,” you admit. “But I’m okay now. Though I do appreciate the sentiment. What about the former Mrs. York? Does she need taking care of?” Not that you ever could, but the joke seems soothing in an off kilter way.

“Not worth it.” He grunts, although he had thought about it. In the end, as long as she kept her mouth shut, she kept breathing.

“As long as they stay away, they can do whatever,” you say, guessing he feels the same way as you.

“I’ll drink to that.” Dave raises his coke to tap against the rim of your glass and takes a sip. “Hopefully the new year is our year, huh?”

“Maybe so.” The gentle ching of glass against glass is musical. A bit romantic, if you want to pretend that way. No matter what, the thought of anything being yours — for you and Dave — makes your face burn. “Hopefully.”

The two of you eat and while the duck is tender, the roast beef is a little dry for Dave’s taste. Talking easily like you have all night until the plates are pushed away and there’s only minutes left until the clock strikes midnight. “Wanna dance?” Dave asks, glancing back at you after looking at the floor filled with couples.

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. As stoic as he is, you had kind of assumed at this point that Dave was not a dancing kind of guy.

“Why? Do you not want to?” He asks, wondering if your heels are bothering you, or if you just don’t want to dance with him.

"What? No, no, I absolutely want to." It takes you a second but you shake off the surprise and move away from the table. "I just didn't think you would want to."

He huffs and reaches out to offer you his hand. “I’m not stupid.” He teases. “Dancing with a pretty lady would be a stupid thing to turn down.”

That isn't the first time tonight that he's called you pretty, and every single time you feel like your whole being is instantly set on fire from the compliment. "Some men just don't like to dance," you excuse. "I didn't want to assume."

“And those men are idiots.” He walks you out onto the dance floor and turns to pull you close. “It’s an excuse to hold a woman close and move with her.” He rumbles softly.

There is no damn way in the world that he missed your eyelashes fluttering at that light growl in his voice, not with as close as he's holding you, and you clear your throat slightly out of pure nerves. "I guess I never thought of it like that."

There’s a part of him that wonders if you would be this flustered if you knew what he was in a previous life. If you knew the marks that are on his soul. It’s at that moment, his leg decides to buckle and he stumbles slightly, tightening his hold on you, but he recovers quickly with just a quiet curse. “Sorry.”

"Are you okay?" You panic a little but hold onto him tightly, not letting him fall or even really lose his balance except for momentarily. There was one time that he came to pick up Alice from your place that you saw a handicapped placard in his car and a cane on the seat next to him so you're not totally surprised. It is the first time you've seen it in action though.

Dave has the decency to look embarrassed, although the reason why he nearly tripped still pisses him off. “Yeah.” He grunts. “Muscle weakness.” He explains quietly.

"We don't have to dance," you offer gently, not wanting to make him feel guilty but also not wanting him to put undue stress on his leg.

“No, I’m fine.” He insists. “It’s good for me to work the muscles.” He doesn’t let go of you, wanting to dance as the clock counts down to midnight.

"I'll keep you steady." It's almost too quiet when you say it, but he's close enough to catch it and you smile when the corner of his mouth turns up, too.

“My hero.” He teases softly, looking at you in true amazement. You are just naturally considerate and that surprises him.

"Oh hush." Teasing goes both ways, of course, and you're perfectly tickled that he would initiate it even a little. "It's the least I can do."

The two of you start to slowly dance again, fitting the music that is being played. It is not the heavy party music that might be in a New Year’s party for younger people, but this is intimate. Sensual.

It's so easy to sink into. Into the intimacy of the moment that could so easily be mistaken for romance. It's sweet. And gentle. And Dave's face rests at something far away from asshole right now.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the New Year’s countdown.” The DJ announces, making Dave smirk slightly as he tugs you closer.

Your heart does a little leap up into your throat that makes your whole chest ache, and you have to remind yourself that New Year’s kisses are for the young. They’re not for middle aged divorcees at their kids’ school fundraisers.

“Ten, nine!” Dave watches as you join the countdown. Eyes floating around the room and coming back to him. The two of you are still clinging to one another. “Eight, seven!”

It's too much of a fantasy for you to not let your gaze drift to his lips, even if you avert your eyes immediately. "Six, five!" Your stupid heart is pounding like anything could ever matter, and the room seems to slow down around you.

He notices, he’s noticed every little thing about you tonight. He sees the way your eyes touch his lips and it makes him grasp you just a little tighter. “Four, three, two!” Right before the room shouts ‘One!’ Dave ducks his head down and captures your lips in a kiss.

A half-squeak, half-gasp shakes from you but you're too absorbed in returning the unexpected kiss to even really register that you've made a sound. It may be chaste and relatively quick, but it's still better than half the other damn kisses you've had in your lifetime, and by the time Dave pulls back a few seconds later you feel like it's your legs about to give out this time.

“Happy New Year!” Dave pulls back to make sure that you didn’t object, only to find you looking completely bemused and he smirks slightly before he leans in again to claim your lips.

This time the sound is most definitely a moan when it comes out of you, and you cling a little more desperately as your arms wind around him and he deepens the kiss. You feel dizzy and disoriented, but in the most dreamlike way possible, and if it ever stops it will be far too soon.

You cling to him, making him deepen the kiss. One hand coming up to cup your jaw and encourage you to open up for him. Sliding his tongue inside your mouth when you yield.

The whole room has dissolved around you. The other dancing couples, the upbeat party music, the noise and the lights and everything in between. There is nothing else anywhere except Dave York kissing you, and the fact that you've been harboring this fantasy for months without ever thinking it could go anywhere. When it's finally necessary to breathe again -- what a nuisance -- you have to take another second with your eyes closed just in case the whole thing has been a dream.

“Happy New Year.” Dave whispers, smiling at the way you still have your eyes closed. As if you are dreaming.

“Happy New Year.” Hearing that he’s still there — still real — gives you enough courage to actually open your eyes. Like some kind of miracle, his arms are tight around you and his lips are swollen plush from sharing a kiss.

******

“We have strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips, pecans, whipped cream and those little marshmallow things. Molly wants those and chocolate chips in hers.” Dave rattles off as he pours the batter onto the hot waffle iron. “What would you like?” He turns towards the older two girls to get their orders as they sit at the bar in their pajamas.

"Strawberries and chocolate and pecans, please, Mr. York?" Marnie sits up at the bar with her legs dangling on her stool and hot cocoa clutched in her little hands. The party had been so much fun and the girls are still all chattering away this morning. She's dreading being picked up to go home, just because she hates being away from Alice. Those two girls have been attached at the hip since they met.

"Can I have blueberries and chocolate chips, Daddy?" Alice asks, knowing that adding a fruit will increase the likelihood of her father saying yes. "And whipped cream?"

“Anything you girls want.” Dave chuckles at the surprised look on his eldest daughter’s face. He shooks her a wink. “It’s a new year. The first day should be the best one so far.” He starts to add the chocolate and mini dried marshmallows to this waffle for Molly. “I’ll fix them all exactly how you like them.” He promises. “Anyone want eggs?”

“Do we have bacon, Daddy?”

You can hear Molly’s little voice from the other end of the hall as you creep down the back stairs. You had left the party separately from Dave and the girls last night, shooting back over to your house for a change of clothes and arriving at the York’s house a little after the girls had been put to bed.

Dave hadn’t waited too long to put you to bed either, and now you’re sneaking out like a teenager trying not to get caught by your boyfriend’s parents.

Dave tilts his head as he hears you. The girls don’t, but they also haven’t been trained to listen for unusual sounds. “We sure do, baby.” He hums. “Do you want some?” She nods eagerly and both Alice and Marnie quickly agree that they would want some bacon. “Let me get it on a pan.”

Out through the back door that goes into the garage, out the side door of the garage, and over to your car, you pop the bag that you brought a change of clothes in -- and now contains your dress and heels from last night's party -- into the trunk. That leaves you with just your purse on your arm but you tug on your coat and tie the waist to make it look like you're just arriving. And then, with flare, you slam the driver's side door of your car shut and walk up to his front door to ring the bell.

Immediately Alice and Marnie are groaning, not wanting to be separated so early. “Quit fussing.” He chuckles. “I invited your mom over for waffles this morning.” He explains to Marnie. He technically isn’t lying, he’s just not telling them that you spent the night in his bed last night. “Alice, watch the waffle, I’ll get the door.”

"Okay!" Delighted not to be separated so early, Alice pops up from her stool to stare intently at the waffle machine while her dad walks out to the hall in his pajamas.

Dave pads to the door, opening it quickly. “Fancy seeing you here.” He teases as he opens the door and drags you close for a quick kiss.

"Weird, right?" A little giggle bubbles out of you, and you steal another kiss, even boldly dragging your fingers through his short hair like you now know he loves. A second later, you add, "I'm not late, am I?" with more volume.

“Right on time.” He winks and squeezes your ass before he pulls away from you. “How was your night?” He asks, loud enough for the girls to hear. “The girls went to bed and I was quickly behind them.”

"Oh, same." The fake airiness in your voice is borderline laughable, but thankfully the girls are young enough that you would be absolutely shocked if they picked up on anything. "I was ready for bed right after the party. What a late night."

“Yes it was.” There’s only a little heat to his words and he manages to suppress the smirk by the time the two of you walk into the kitchen. It had been an amazing night if he had to judge. “You want some coffee? I have a fresh pot.”

"That sounds great." You're dying for a cup, if you're honest, but you set your purse on a chair as you walk into the kitchen and drape your coat over the back along with it. "Did you girls have a good night?"

The girls immediately start to chatter to you, leaving Dave to plate up the waffle and set the bacon in the oven to bake before he gets out another coffee cup for you.

They tell you about the weird music that got played, the food they ate and the games they played. How Courtney Schofield finally got told off by the girls she's been bullying and how Bobby Thornrite got a bloody nose because he tripped over his untied shoe and went face first into the boy in front of him.

Dave watches you with the girls as he starts on Marnie’s waffle next. Pouring syrup on Molly’s although he knows that she will want to wait until the older girls eat. It’s heartwarming to see how they enjoy talking to you. Basking in your attention.

"So I was wondering..." Leaning against the counter with the girls, you sip your coffee and try not to look over at Dave too often because you know you'll end up a giddy mess if you do. "If you girls wanted to just move this sleepover on over to our house tonight? We can watch movies and make popcorn and have some tacos for dinner?" You and Dave had bounced the idea around before you got out of bed this morning, figuring the girls would be ecstatic to keep hanging out and it would enable you and him to be able to spend the day together. A winning situation for everyone, as far as you're concerned.

Dave winces as the girls immediately start to screech in joy and excitement. Bouncing around the kitchen like Tasmanian devils and hugging each other like they’ve won the lottery. “I think that’s a yes.” He tells you dryly.

"Okay you two, okay." You can't help but laugh. They're such sweet kids and Molly is very nearly as excited as the older two. "Breakfast first, huh? And then we'll help Mr. York clean up the kitchen before we go switch houses. Does that sound like a deal?"

“Everybody is having a waffle and bacon.” He reminds them. “Then we brush our teeth, right? No cavities.”

"Right!" Chorus back all three girls, who could not be more thrilled with the way this morning is going.

Dave grins as he continues to make waffles. It was a great start to the New Year.

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