Chapter Text
Maybe it was that she’d only been in New York City out and about, always surrounded by so-called friends, always seeking good times, always temporary, but she doesn’t like the apartment she and Ben manage to find up in Inwood.
Living with Ben is pleasant now. She feels bad for thinking that she’s growing out of living with him, even if they barely spend time together in their apartment with so much to do outside.
She ends up discovering new songs that someone’s playing out loud on the streets as she walks home from the subway and the memories of them clear enough to dance around at home but hazy enough to not be able to find them online.
She remembers liking New York.
She should like it more than she does.
She hates the commute to her job near Herald Square. She hates how there’s smoke everywhere and everything she sees is gray or brown or black, save the trees in parks. She hates all the clunky noise and loud voices all around. She hates the brazen people. She hates all the lights around her no matter the time of day.
She hates how much she misses Simon and how much she regrets giving up having him by her side for this life she doesn’t even like.
She hates how much she thinks of him throughout the day and how much she longs for him at night, how it all hurts so much that she doesn’t even write any messages to him that will never be sent.
She hates how, in hindsight, she can see that they genuinely did not talk about her move, not really. They said much to each other, but they did not talk.
She hates how she doesn’t find anyone she would like to spend time with, not one friend or stranger to help take away the edge of the loneliness she feels after each text, each call home.
Her job had been rather good at first, nothing to talk much about when she talks with anyone on the phone or in the video conferences all the family have once a month.
Then, it became tolerable.
Now, she realizes five coworkers have left within the three months, one of them even leaving the city. That there’s a reason they hired someone like her in the first place.
Now, she finds herself wishing she could leave too.
Maybe it’s the city, but it feels like it’s really how much she’s changed throughout the last few years.
It doesn’t take long after that realization to start looking for another job herself. She’s changed a lot, but she’ll never settle for good enough.
She waits until it’s only a few days before she has to fly out in April to tell Ben she has an interview just out of DC.
She’s nervous and she keeps worrying that she’s simply caught their attention with her last name and unconventional professional profile—she can’t believe that she , of all people, is considered a professional now—but she keeps reminding herself they’re interested in her if they’re willing to fly her out to meet her.
She reminds herself she’s more than her last name and she could prove that without much effort from her part.
She reminds herself she’s done difficult things before and she’ll be able to do difficult things iteratively.
…
Anthony is the first one she tells.
He sounds happy for her and even proud when she calls him as soon as she finds out she’d gotten the job. She’d only told him that she’d liked the vibe in the office, that she’d liked the projects she would start working on, that she’s hoping for the best after her interview.
They end up laughing and laughing together when she finally tells him it’s with a software company.
“Daphne, how many times did I tell you to look for a job near us if you didn’t want me to get you one at the Rose Video offices?”
“I know!”
“Do you realize how many software companies were near you in literally every city you lived in California?”
“I know! Believe me, I know!”
She can only laugh for so long with him until she ends up wiping her tears away.
…
The start is tumultuous, but then the currents settle down.
She loves the second apartment she found for herself, one tiny and expensive fraction of a townhouse many minutes north of Dupont Circle. She loves the simplicity of her commute to and from Bethesda on the Red Line, even when there’s the crunching of people forcing themselves into the older musty wagons with no a/c as if the next train wasn’t coming in seven minutes at the most. (Even if she, Daphne Bridgerton, is not so above doing the same despite all her complaints.)
She loves her job and how she starts taking on more responsibilities, how she starts proving her worth with each day. It’s a little tiresome to have to feel like she needs to prove her worth and position, but it only makes it more satisfying to succeed.
She likes walking home on the most horribly hot, humid days, even when she goes home and can’t get any cold water out from her shower. She tolerates walking home in the snow, even if she later misses it as the temperature goes up with time. She finds herself laughing when she rushes home in those thunderstorms where nothing could ever protect her from the pouring rain.
She would’ve never imagined this would be her life, but she loves it.
…
She frowns when she reads Anthony’s text.
We were forced to promise to not say anything, but I’ve decided to be rebellious. There should be a package arriving at your doorstep today.
She rolls her eyes at his insistence to continue using proper punctuation in his texts and wants to ask him what was the point of such secrecy, but she decides to leave him on read until she gets home.
It’s one of those summer days where her clothes stick to her body and the walk home is gruesome yet satisfying. She stops when she sees him sitting down on the steps up her home, a bag by his feet, a copy of the free newspaper from the metro failing at shielding him from the sun.
“What are you doing here?”
Simon does that annoying shrug of his. “I wanted to see you. Anthony and Kate gave me your address.”
She makes the mental note to call and scream at them. They could have at the very least had the decency to ask if they could share it.
“It was an impulsive, last-minute decision,” he continues. “Don’t hold it against them.” He shrugs again. “They’ve been tired of seeing me pine for you for a long time.”
She just stares at him, taking the newspaper from him so she can look at him properly. “So you decided to just get on a plane to see me on a whim? Just because you’ve been pining for me?”
“I thought it would be better than calling you, waiting for you to visit Schitt’s Creek again.”
She doesn’t know if she wants to scream at him, to take her heels out of her bag and throw them at him, or to sit on him and kiss him senseless. It’s been too long since they’ve seen each other and she knows it’ll be the latter that will happen if she lets him into her apartment right now, so she doesn’t.
“I only wanted to see you, that’s all.”
She finds herself biting her lip while she thinks it through.
“Are you hungry?”
…
He walks beside her against the tide of people getting home and then along with the tide of people stepping out the metro to go anywhere but home on a Thursday.
She tries to not imagine him walking these streets beside her on an everyday basis.
…
She calls Anthony from the bathroom of the casual restaurant she takes him as an inbetween place, one she’s been before but isn’t too attached to. It goes straight to voicemail, so she calls Kate and rolls her eyes when he picks up her phone instead.
She doesn’t even say hello once she hears his voice.
“Thanks for the heads up, you dick. You could have told me that package was a real fucking person that exists in this world and that’s alive and breathing and blinking and just sitting on my steps waiting for me for when I get home from work!”
“Listen, I thought you liked surprises.”
She scoffs, stopping herself from kicking her stall’s door like the petulant child she feels at his tone.
“You could’ve given me a proper heads up. I could have been more emotionally prepared so I would’ve been less of a bitch. Fuck.”
She smiles at the sound of shrieking laughter in his background, at Kate’s gentle voice saying something she can’t make out.
“That’s Mili, right?” She can hear her voice soften. Just hearing a bit of this life Anthony’s made for himself relaxes her too much, even with the distance between them. “Give him a big hug for me, will you?”
“I will. Go do your thing, whatever it ends up being and we’ll talk later, yeah?”
She takes a deep breath. “I really hate you, Anthony.”
She can hear his smile as he says “I’m sure you do.”
…
“So why now?”
Simon raises his eyebrows before taking a sip of his whiskey. It’s ridiculous how well he looks even in his wrinkled button-up shirt under the restaurant’s dimmed lights.
“You’re going right to it, then.”
She shrugs, tapping her nails against the wooden table for something to do.
“Once I started to feel like my life was getting back on a good track, that maybe New York wasn’t the end of the world, and that you didn’t…”
It’s easier to take a deep breath than to focus on the words that just make everything in her head click with understanding.
He takes a deep breath and she notices his lips for a second. She doesn’t want to know how much these words were planned, practiced.
“But maybe we could talk, maybe we could find something to make it work, and then, well, you had a new city and you were happy.”
He looks straight into her eyes. “I wanted you to be happy. I still do.”
She nods.
It’s the most she can do to not fall down the black hole she feels in her chest.
“I like my life here in the DMV.”
(She’d hurt him, she knew that too well.)
He only stares.
(And yet wanted her to be happy.)
She wants Simon to ask what her life is like.
She wants to ask him how he’s been, to learn more about his life in Schitt’s Creek in the past years, to hear more than the little comments here and there by Kate and Anthony.
She wants to apologize for being so stupid and refusing to ball down from her weak excuses.
“The what?”
She blinks.
“DC, Maryland, Virginia. DMV.”
He nods slowly, that little furrow between his brows too precious for her to ignore.
…
“I’ll have you know that Kate and Anthony aren’t the only ones with a proper house now.”
She raises her eyebrows, slowly smiling at him and his stupid smirk.
“You left the barn? You have a proper house?”
He considers his answer for a second, moving his head as if he wants to nod and shake his head simultaneously. “I’m renting my own proper apartment now.”
“How come? You loved that stupid barn of yours.”
“It wasn’t stupid.” He has a sheepish smile on his face before adding, “But Aggie very lovingly kicked me out of her house the winter after you left.”
She laughs. “Are you now going to tell me you don’t have your pickup truck anymore?”
“I mean, I still have it, but I only drive it on weekends,” Simon says, raising his eyebrows as he nods. “Just a regular SUV now.”
Daphne can only stare at him for far too long before asking, “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He nods again. Even with so much time between them, she knows he’s looking for the right words. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but Aggie passed it on to me. It meant the world to me. It was my first car. I loved it, still do, but I have learned there are times when things from your past are best left in the past.”
She hadn’t known that. She would’ve understood things better if he’d told her that’s how he’d gotten that car.
How many opportunities had he had to explain?
Daphne nods, taking in his words.
…
He walks her home despite her insistence on how he’s less familiar with the neighborhood than her.
She wouldn’t have thought it would be as comfortable as it was, how every step leaves behind any recent hurt, leaves behind any repetitions of “takes one”.
“Do you want to come in for a glass of wine or water?”
The words leave her mouth instead of the “see you tomorrow” she’d meant to say, but Daphne finds that she doesn’t regret them.
“Just to talk,” she clarifies, scared to look away from Simon and anything his face might accidentally tell her. “I want us to keep talking, just because we’re here together and we can.”
Her body doesn’t snap from the tension it holds while she waits.
But Simon nods, and somehow that just makes her stress worsen.
…
“Can I ask you something?”
As if anyone’s been able to truly say no to such a question.
As if anyone’s been able to keep their cool in this scenario.
As if she’s able to say no to anything Simon asks.
She nods.
“Are you happy? Honestly happy?”
She’s not sure if she could’ve ever lied about this, at least not with him who would know regardless.
So she finishes her remaining wine and does her best to keep her sight on Simon’s hands.
“I’ve never actually been alone, all by myself.”
She’s not sure where the words come from, if it's the type of thing that comes to mind all alone past midnight in a weeknight.
She’s not alone tonight.
She sighs.
She wants to be the Daphne that’s alive during the day, but it’s dark and she’s in her cramped living area and it’s Simon.
It’s always Simon.
“I think it’s been good for me,” she braves to say. “but I’m also curious to see what would happen if I simply existed, instead of fighting to be recognized as a professional. As a person, honestly.”
She shrugs.
“Trying to be the best so I can prove my worth,” she adds.
Daphne looks up to his face, taking in the calm expression, the small smile on his lips.
Oh.
She didn’t have to form the words in her mind before, “Is this how you felt when you decided to leave Milpitas for Schitt’s Creek?”
She’s not sure what she expected, but not for the smile to leave, not for Simon to lean back.
“I don’t…” He shrugs. ”I didn’t like feeling like I was under someone’s control, like I had to prove myself to this higher-up. I got tired of proving my worth, yeah. So I left.”
She nods.
They’ve known each other for so long now.
She thought she knew him, but maybe there were more things about him that she still didn’t know, that she still didn’t understand.
“Don’t check in at the hotel.”
She’s the first one to look away from the seconds they share.
Daphne would like to say she doesn’t know where the words come from, but she’d be lying if she hadn’t thought of it the moment he’d mentioned that.
It’s not sensible. She can feel her heartbeat all over the body and can feel her face flush, but it’s what she wants despite all her fear.
“It’s late, you don't know the area well.” A simple, weak excuse. “I’ll sleep in the futon.”
The stupid alternative seems to snap out of his thoughts. She’d be grateful if not for how he instantly shakes his head.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She isn’t.
“You’re not going to sleep here, Daph. And I can walk,” he adds.
If it’s a ridiculous question from her, then her feelings and reaction is desperate.
“You have work and-”
“I want you to stay.”
She takes a second to look at the way his hands clench.
“I know I don't deserve to ask this after all I've done, but I want you to stay and I want us to keep talking. Just talking, no ulterior motive.”
He doesn’t say anything and she can’t handle the silence and all she wants to do is to find a stray blanket and go to the darkest spot in her apartment and simply curl herself until the weekend is over.
Some people have shame when it comes to asking for things they want, she thinks. For better or worse, she’s not one of them.
“Or you can just sleep right now and we’ll have a silent breakfast tomorrow and never see each other,” she adds. Daphne shakes her head, a smile somehow creating itself on her lips. “Or literally anywhere in between, whatever it is that you want.”
Simon nods and she can finally feel her body and mind relax, even if just for a moment that will not forever persist.
…
It’s absurd.
They’ve literally just spent one night together, only talking and catching up with each other. He’s sleeping on her sofa and not beside her; a successful compromise with herself.
And yet, her mind’s already spinning at the thought that her company has a newer office in Columbus, of all places. She tells herself she’s not going to think about it, so she ends up thinking about it a few minutes before her alarm goes off.
She could make the compromise, she thinks, if they want to actually do the work and be together again after this weekend. She could do a long distance relationship if it had an end-date in sight. It’ll be closer to Schitt’s Creek even if it’ll still be a long drive. She'll have an airport nearby for when she decides to visit any other of her siblings. It’s not a small town and it’s not a big city, so maybe she could make the compromise.
She’s never been in Columbus, but she’d only been in the DMV for her interview before moving here, so who knows?
Would Simon be open to making the compromise if they talked it out beforehand?
She decides she’ll focus on making breakfast instead.
…
She tries to keep her voice steady when she tells him, “I think it’ll be good for you to take advantage of all the free things you can do around here while I’m at work, yeah? It’ll be easier for you to just take the Red Line and then walk down to the National Mall. Make sure to always stand to the right on the metro stairs unless you want people to hate you. Take some cold water with you, because the heat here is no joke, and I’m being a mother hen, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sounds good.”
She smiles at him. “But if you’re staying until Sunday, I’d like us to go to the National Gallery together tomorrow.”
He nods, smiles. “I’d like that too.”
…
A part of her screams when she gives him the keys for her place right before parting ways at the metro, but it’s the sensible thing.
What if he started to feel unwell from the heat and humidity and he needed to go somewhere to rest and ended up fainting because he had nowhere else to go?
Even if that was the worst case scenario, she couldn’t just leave him on the streets until she got home from work.
“Oh God, these stairs are even worse going down.”
She smiles and holds back her impulse to take his hand.
The idea of it feels different in the daylight.
So they part ways at the metro station, she towards Rockville and he towards Glenmont.
She doesn’t know what to do, but she guesses there’s nothing wrong with a quick hug as a goodbye.
It would’ve been quicker, easier if she couldn’t see him on the other side of the platform until more hurried people started blocking her view.
She takes a deep breath and gives her thanks to the universe when her train gets there first.
She doesn’t know how she would’ve felt if she’d been the one to see him leave her behind on the station.
She doesn’t want to think about how he’d felt, seeing her leaving him behind once again.
…
If anything, she can blame her lack of focus and productivity on the fact that it’s Friday.
She can’t read or write emails or pay attention to her zoom meeting or much less eavesdrop on the conversation happening on the cubicle beside hers.
It really wouldn’t hurt to ask for more info about the hypothetical possibility of potentially transferring to Columbus, just out of curiosity. But Monday, she should wait until Monday at least.
She’s a strong woman. She can be patient and make her own decisions based on her own terms.
She can also keep her thoughts on her work and herself, no one else.
did u manage to get inside the museum?
She can totally do that during her lunch hour, and she can totally take her usual time eating and not less so she could leave work half an hour earlier.
I got here about half an hour early, so had to walk aroundb until my time.
It’s insane how many people there are here
She smiles. She holds back the question on whether he means the National Mall or the African American history museum.
its so great and before noon too
She considers it for a moment.
He wants to see if they can get back together. She is interested in the possibility of it.
What is there to lose?
i’ll leave you to it
text if u need anything
ok?
And do you want to do something this evening once im done with work?
She stares at the message bubble that appears when he writes out. It feels like he’s writing forever, but maybe it’s her, something she questions even more when he finally sends out,
Ok, will let you know of I need something
She stares at the screen, but nothing else appears to be written in the following minutes.
She sighs.
Well, it’s something at least.
…
She knows the apartment isn’t empty before she crosses her door. Daphne hears music, smells what are most definitely peppers.
It’s him.
It couldn’t have been anyone else, but it’s him.
It’s Simon.
“Hey.”
It’s always Simon.
She feels herself nodding numbly as a greeting, giving herself a second to process the scene before her while she removes her shoes.
This is the type of life she could’ve been having all this time.
This is what she’d thrown away.
Because she threw it away; there is no other phrase for what happened.
She manages to mumble something about taking a shower, as if she could just continue with her routine with Simon there, there in her kitchen cooking for them both.
It'd be easier to be mad at him for simply showing up out of nowhere. It’d be easier to be mad at him for choosing to pick this moment, when she’s fine.
At least, when she thought she was fine.
Maybe if she were fine, she wouldn’t want to melt and trickle down the drain along with the water that falls over her skin.
Maybe if she were fine, she wouldn’t want to cry from the knowledge that he’s a much better person than her.
She’s caused so much hurt for them both, but mostly for him. She’s known this for a long time now, but it’s different to see proof of it in her own ducking kitchen.
Because it’s him.
He’s here.
Despite all she’s done, he’s here.
She could think it through a little more, but it’s easier to walk out the bathroom as soon as the towel is wrapped around her.
“I’m sorry.”
She watches as Simon’s body turns towards her, the way his eyes flit down her wet body before steadily meeting her gaze.
Despite the layer of cloth around her and the multiple steps between them, Daphne wholly feels naked in front of him.
She’s baring herself, shrugging off any unnecessary pride that could once again ruin whatever it is they have between them.
It’s not easy, but maybe it’s easier.
“I’m sorry for making a decision that would affect both of our futures without telling you, without even telling you I was considering it. I’m sorry for being too proud to admit I made a mistake, to admit that I went about everything in a horrible way.”
It would be easy to say this was the place to end the apology.
But it’s Simon; she knows him.
“I’m sorry for acting as if you were in the wrong, when you weren’t. You deserved and still deserve a lot more than all that shit I made you go through. And I know saying I’m sorry will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”
Her body burns under his state, with each millisecond that passes without a word from him.
She refuses to look away from him.
She knows that doing so doesn’t mean that her words hold no truth, but she cannot risk it.
Milliseconds turn into seconds before Simon turns around and redirects his attention to the kitchen.
She takes a deep breath.
It’s okay.
She probably deserves this.
She probably deserves a lot worse, she tells herself as she returns to her room to fix herself good enough.
He’s here.
He’s here in her kitchen.
Simon’s here for her and no apologies will ever be justification enough for him to forgive her.
And yet he’s here.
Whether or not he forgives her, he’s here with her when she was not with him.
It takes some moments for her to fake enough strength to leave the bedroom.
When she joins him, she recognizes everything he’s doing, every ingredient.
It only makes her want to cry even more.
“Do you want me to make the salad?”
It takes a moment for Simon to nod.
It takes many more for him to clear his throat.
“Thank you,” he says.
She only nods in reply; it’s the most she can do if she wants to keep herself from crying.
And it’s fine.
They talked so much yesterday. They said so much and barely scratched the surface on what really needed to be said.
It’s fine if the reverse is true today.
It hurts and it’ll continue hurting throughout the day until who knows when.
It’s fine.
…
It’s fine until it’s not.
She feels each bit of electricity in her body from how much she needs to hear his voice, to hear him say something, anything. It all stings so much throughout her skin; Daphne wants to remove all her skin just to release the electricity and have him truly, genuinely see her.
She resorts to talking some and then talking some more.
She no longer finds any enjoyment in retelling absurd stories from her past life, about crazy parties or meeting famous people or getting into scary situations in weird places, so she doesn’t.
She really doesn’t have any other more recent, more updated versions of those stories for her current life.
The most she can do is to recount office gossip and it barely compares to the type of conversation she was previously able to elicit from anyone at a dinner table.
His lips turn up just slightly a few times and his short comments feel calculated, but it’s how he barely looks at her that makes her burn with shame and all other sorts of pain.
She’s even unable to stop him from doing the dishes, when it’s not his job, much less when he cooked and they used to always split these types of things before.
It’s been a while since the two of them haven’t done any of the things they always used to do, Daphne thinks.
But she keeps on talking, and he keeps on being silent.
She keeps on trying and she knows she most probably deserves it, but it hurts so much.
Simon’s on the last dish when she decides she can’t just avoid talking about what she really wants.
“Are you staying tonight too?” She considers it for a moment before moving on with her plan, “You can also sleep with me, just sleep, if the futon’s too uncomfortable for a second night.”
Maybe it’s irresponsible to say this—and the way Simon stills is proof enough that it is—but she wants this.
She wants so much.
“I miss you,” she adds.
Present tense and not past, she thinks.
She doesn’t miss the shaky hands, so it doesn’t surprise her when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
So they’re actually going to talk about it, then.
“Everyone knew, Daphne. Everyone but me,” he emphasizes.
Her first instinct is to defend herself, to say that literally not everyone had known.
But then she sees his eyes and she understands the magnitude of the pain she caused in him.
“I think, at first, I didn’t want you to ask me to stay,” she admits. “I would’ve stayed if you’d asked me to. And then, I’m not sure, honestly.”
She shakes her head quickly at how he looks away.
“And I don’t want to imply- It’s not your fault, Simon. If there’s one thing I want you to understand, it’s that it’s not your fault that things went the way they did. It was all me. I see that now and I should've seen it then.”
She doesn’t know what to think with each second that passes and neither of them says anything. She doesn’t have anything else to say, nothing that comes to mind.
“I think I'll sleep on the futon now, if you don't mind. I’m tired.”
“No, of course I don’t mind.”
And here she’d so innocently thought she’d only have to bring him sheets just last night. Somehow it’s what she misses the most, having his always-warm body even in the coldest winter nights, having quiet midnight conversations, even getting annoyed by how he always swears she snores.
…
They’re walking into a hall when their fingers brush.
She didn’t know her heart could ache so much here, in the middle of the National Gallery, absentmindedly listening to a museum guide with some group of young children.
She’s still thinking of Anthony’s text this morning, a simple ‘I haven’t heard from you since Thursday. Are you okay?’. She’d written and rewritten her response for way too long, finally settling with an ‘I think so yeah. Love you. Call you another day.’
She only dares to glance his way when she feels his hand reaching hers again, when he takes her hand and all she can do is smile.
She loves him too much for this to be healthy.
…
She takes him to a restaurant she’s heard of before, never been before despite wanting to. She sips from her mojito during dinner to stop herself from telling him that she’s never done this before, that she had her rules and standards despite being a serial dater. She's never let a date ruin her first impression of a place with their presence.
She supposes Simon’s not really like any other date she’s had before, in so many ways that matter and that maybe don’t.
The clock ticks and the tables are put away to allow a dancefloor, and Daphne’s heart is too much with how his eyes consider her for a second before pulling her towards it.
Her hands savor his shoulders as they dance, remembering how they felt so long ago.
She wants to believe that he’s trying to be careful, but oh how she wants his hands to move down from her waist. She wants him, all of him. Daphne wants him back in her life, in whatever form he’ll allow it.
Maybe that’s the best way to explain why she pulls him towards her, why she tries to meet him halfway to barely touch his lips with hers.
He could do so many things, but he guides her even closer so their bodies touch and she can hear him mutter her name.
She waits, stares into his considerate eyes as they slow down their movements despite the rapid music around him.
There’s so many things happening when he kisses her back. And yet, this is them, Daphne thinks. When they’re together, this is them; quiet moments just for them no matter what is happening around them.
She wants to believe it’s been a while before he mentions an uber, a lyft, but she only nods and takes her phone out as if she wouldn’t walk down the entire 14th street and back up to the Dupont circle if he even hints they can figure things out, make everything okay.
(Not perfect, just okay.)
His hand settles on her thigh on the drive home.
(Her home. Hers, not theirs, she chides herself.)
She presses her lips against his shoulder. She is not above making big eyes she knows he can’t resist, that always make him smile at the very least.
And Simon does smile. He does shake his head as he laughs to himself. He kisses her forehead.
She pouts when he pulls back. She sighs when he actually gives her a soft kiss.
(Fuck. And to think she’d thrown him away.)
A hand of hers smoothens his frown lines, settles over his stubble.
(She tries to breathe through the sudden memory of how it felt to have his head between her thighs.)
It feels like the longest car ride she’s ever been on, even considering all the LA traffic she used to handle without complaints.
His hand is on her lower back as if she enters the code for her building, so she turns and grabs his hand after the beep of the door.
She doesn’t say anything at how his frown lines return as they go up the stairs, at how his body tenses as she takes out her keys.
“Daphne,” he suddenly says, “Thank you.”
She can only guide him towards the inside of her apartment, towards privacy, but she can only stare at him.
He chuckles, shakes his head. “For not telling me to go fuck myself when you saw me at your steps.”
She could try all she wanted to, try to properly apologize for everything needing apologizing. She will, another time, but for now he’ll have to understand that she can only express herself by pulling him down towards her for a good kiss, one that shows him how much she’s missed him, how much she still loves him, how much she’s been wanting him since she saw him again.
All the pride she has, she leaves it on the floor just like she leaves her shoes too, just like she can’t help moaning at the way he holds her against his body. It doesn’t mean that she’s left behind the rest of her being. She remembers how it feels to be the one in control and leads her to tug his shirt, to brush her hand against his groin as he takes his polo off.
God, has she missed him.
Control isn’t always a bad thing, she reminds herself.
She presses her nails into his chest when he takes a step towards her, when he must've known what she was thinking of with the way he bites into her neck.
“I'm yours,” she whimpers, her fingers working to undo the buttons on his shirt. “I haven't slept with anyone since you.”
She's lied about many things, but never on being his since that stupid party.
For whatever reasons he might've brought her to the sofa, he still seems surprised when Daphne pushes him back and starts undoing his jeans, when she nudges him to move down for her.
“Daph-”
She waits.
She supposes it's unfair to wait for him to speak and give him the big eyes he used to love so much, but it's also so unfair that she can see how hard he is and she can't do anything about it.
Simon leans forward to brush a hand through her hair, resting it by her cheek.
She turns her head to kiss his hand, just like they'd done so many times.
“Daph, I don't care how many men you've even looked at,” he says. “I’m happy enough with you just welcoming me back into your life. You don't need to prove anything to me.”
She takes her time in nodding, in agreeing.
He pulls her into her lap, pressing a kiss on her cheek as she wraps her arms around him.
She thinks he's saying all he wants to with the soft kiss he places on her jaw and lips, but then he laughs and mutters, “And if you even think to suck me off, I swear I'll cum just from that.”
Daphne laughs as his lips find her throat again, shutting down any complaint on how she doesn't care if they don't have sex today, that she just wants to make him happy.
It feels like no time at all before he's got her moaning and wishing her bed was closer, thanking him for not letting her say anything on the matter.
“Fuck.” She takes a deep breath. “I don't have any condoms.”
“I might've been convinced to pack the one. But-” Simon shakes his head. “We don't… It's just that…”
“I want you to fuck me,” she says, whimpering out when his hand plays with the waistband of her jeans. “Please.”
Simon nods, and the wait is unbearable even with the anticipation she feels as she takes the rest of her clothes, as walks alone to her bed. But it's worth it for the look he has for her when he returns to her, the quiet wonder she's always found so contagious. She loves it and will defend it to those who think it's arrogance, as if he could ever be like that.
If she were a stronger woman, she'd force herself to take a breather. She'd remind herself that they have so much to talk about still. But he’s guiding her legs open. Of course she scoots closer to him, crying out at the feel of his hard cock against her thigh.
“Impatient?” he chuckles out.
Asshole, she thinks, not caring if she accidentally says it out loud. He can know what she really thinks.
It's still familiar after this time, the way he likes to take his mouth to her breasts, shoulders, her neck. Her body still knows what that means. Maybe it's the recognition that this might happen again, that this is something routine for them, but she can't help but to complain about the way he's treating her, how surely he must want her too.
Fuck, she's wanted him for so long, since that first party at Schitt’s Creek.
She's the one who should've reached out first, the one who needs to fix things, but here he is.
Daphne shuts her eyes to stop the tears she feels on her way.
“Please, just fuck me already,” she cries out for what feels like the millionth time. “Please.”
Simon looks at her for a moment too long before finally agreeing. She'd think more about it, but she wants to believe that he knows already all that she's thinking about, that it's fine, that they'll work things out, that he still loves her despite how horribly she fucked everything up.
A good part of her wants to turn around, for him to just take her from behind so she can hide just how much this all means for her right now. But she lets a few tears escape her as he moves inside her, as he leans down and places a kiss on her cheek.
“You okay?”
She nods quickly. Daphne breathes in and wipes the tears away, focusing instead on wrapping her legs around him.
Thankfully, that seems to be all the confirmation he needs before he returns his attention to her body, moving against her as much as she’s letting him.
She knew she needed him, but it’s never been like this. There’s no way any words or kisses or anything from her will ever let him know how she feels. She’s never had this desperation for him, for anything that he can give to her.
She hazily smiles at how he remembers how she likes it when he tightens his grip on her hips when he’s close to coming. She takes a finger around her clit and feels how she pushes Simon to the edge, feels how it doesn’t take much for her to follow him there.
She could easily fall asleep right now, but the idea of Simon returning to her bed keeps her awake enough to welcome him back by kissing his shoulder. Maybe it’s some new post-sex bliss she’s never quite felt before, and maybe what she’s feeling can be better explained by some word she already knows, but it’s there and it’s enough to speak up.
“I still love you, you know,” she says. She nods at Simon’s wide eyes. “I never stopped.”
Simon nods slowly, taking a deep breath before replying with, “Water.”
It’s not moving too fast if they’ve known each other for years, loved each other for years. That’s what she tells her heart when it starts beating too fast as Simon stands up from the bed.
“I just,” he mumbles. He takes another deep breath. “I need a moment.”
She nods, “That’s okay.”
Her heart’s still too fast as she takes a moment too and goes to the bathroom. She knows the words can be complicated for him. She knows that she fucked up and that he’s in his right to never properly forgive her, no matter how much her heartbeat skyrockets at the thought.
They can pick up where they left off and do things more consciously now, whatever that means.
Daphne looks at herself in the mirror and the mess she’s become. Maybe he has the right idea by taking a moment.
She’s finishing up removing her remaining makeup when he returns, when he settles against the doorframe with his red rimmed eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I can do this again. I don't want to lose you again.”
“Okay.”
She looks at him as she fixes up her hand towels, at the way his eyes are set on the floor.
“I know I’m the one who came here, but I’m scared.”
Daphne nods, slowly taking his hands into hers. She waits for him to continue while she leads him to sitting on her bed again. She takes comfort, at least, in how he doesn’t loosen his grip on her hands no matter how much he seems to be keeping his sight away from her.
“I do want us to figure something out. I actually-” Simon smiles. “You said something once, about us being a family, how even two people are a family. I want us to figure that out. But, didn’t we already also try that once? To figure things out? I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I can handle losing you again.”
“Simon, baby, can look at me?”
She rarely used to call him that, only in quiet moments like this one, and maybe it’s what makes him look up even if for just one second.
“I don’t want to cry again, Daph.”
Daphne takes a deep breath, feeling how the feelings rise inside her too, how the tears reach her eyes too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I love you too much to fuck things up again. I can’t.”
She smiles, taking a hand to his cheek and guides him to look at her.
“First of all, you didn’t fuck up. I did,” she tells him.
“I could’ve fixed things.”
“No, I should’ve taken your thoughts and feelings into consideration from the very start. Me getting a job in New York is something that would’ve changed your life. I should’ve told you. I should've told you when I started feeling unwell with the idea of staying in Elmdale, when I started playing with the idea of leaving, with the idea of building the life I wanted. I should’ve given us the opportunity to make a decision together on everything. None of this is your fault. It was all me. I’m sorry. I’m grateful we’re talking about this, and I’m sorry I hurt like I did.”
She wipes the tears away from his cheeks, even if it means ignoring hers as she speaks.
“I’m scared too,” she admits. “I’m scared that you’re being too forgiving, that I don’t really deserve this. But I think, if we love each other and actually talk things through, we can figure it out. For real this time. I cannot promise things will be perfect, but I can promise I’ll do better in communicating with you.”
Simon nods. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but it’s clear he’s thinking about her words, processing them and maybe even committing them to memory.
Eventually, she says, “Do you want to sleep with me here? We can make a plan on how to figure things out tomorrow, but for tonight we can just sleep together.”
He nods, a smile finding his lips as he says, “Your futon sucks.”
She laughs, nudging him up to move under the covers.
Simon welcomes her into his arms and, oh, how she’s missed sleeping against him. She’ll admit that she’s never been quite a fan of sleeping alone, but she must’ve known she was done for after that first night she slept over with him at his barn.
“I love you, so much,” he whispers, later in the night. He smiles at her. “I’ll do better in talking too. I could’ve spoken to you more about how I felt when you told me, instead of just working and smoking and drinking my life away. I promise you I’ll do that from now on, okay?”
She smiles back. “Okay.”
“And you said we can plan tomorrow, but I’ve liked DC,” he shrugs. “I’d move here for you.”
Daphne frowns, propping herself up on her elbows.
“Baby, you know you could never live in a townhouse apartment like this,” she says, knowing she’s fully correct when Simon rolls his eyes. “You’d go insane.”
He smiles, “Fine, maybe not this apartment, but the city seems good.”
Daphne takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s much too fast, much too soon, and much too assertive from her part, but she said she would’ve worked on her communication.
“We can make an official plan tomorrow, but what about this? I take two weeks off work in September or October and that way we meet somewhere in the middle like Columbus and then go home to Schitt’s Creek together?”
He makes a face, “First of all, that’s closer to me than to you. And you want us to meet in Ohio, of all places?”
“Okay, so the Columbus part of things is non-negotiable,” she says, much to his amusement.
“Miss Daphne Bridgerton, of all people, wants to willingly set foot in Ohio?”
She nudges his shoulder, “Okay, first of all, I’ve gone to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony three times and only one of those was willingly. Second of all, you're the townie that hates Ohio with all his guts, not me. And, third of all, Columbus probably has some more culture than Cleveland, so who knows? Maybe it’s even a little cute.”
Simon laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. Oh, how she’s missed him.
“No, but seriously,” she almost whispers, “My company has a new office in Columbus and they’re looking for some people to transfer. Yes, it’s Ohio, but we could get a house with a backyard for you to garden in and it’s a much closer drive to Schitt’s Creek. We could go check it out before making a decision.”
He looks at her, not saying anything, but the way his eyes shine in the darkness tells her everything she needs to know about what he thinks about that idea. He nods, muttering tightly, “We can compare Google Calendars tomorrow.”
“Okay, I love you, but there's no need to talk dirty like Kate and Anthony.”
Yes, she’s missed listening to his laughter so much.
They’ll sleep in each other’s arms first but tomorrow, she knows, they’ll, figure things out.
…
He visits her twice before they check out Columbus.
At first, it’s a bit weird to notice how all they can do is talk through text or talk through phone calls or talk through video calls, but talking is in fact what they most need to do. And when she starts telling him more stories about New York and the DMV, and he starts telling her all he’s done with the co-op and his apartment, well, talking is actually a very big part of what they want to do with each other.
And, it’s fine, it’s not like they barely leave the bed when he visits her.
They need to catch up with each other in more ways than one.
But when they get to Columbus on a regular Thursday night in September, she realizes she might’ve had the right idea after all.
She does her meetings on Friday and the office downtown is smaller than the one in the DMV, but it seems respectable enough. There doesn’t seem to be that much to do at night if you’re not a college student, but it’s not as if she goes out as much as she used to and the restaurants seem alright. She’ll probably have to buy a car for just herself, but the transit seems okay.
“What do you think?”
Simon shrugs at her question.
They’re sitting on the tiny front porch of their airbnb, sharing a glass of wine on their last night. It’s a warm night, a bit too humid for her liking although not close to the DMV humidity that drives her crazy. Her feet are laying on his lap, one of his hands drawing circles over her skin. It’s not much, but Daphne could be happy here if it’s with him. Of that, she has no doubt.
“It’s okay. I know I’ll figure something out if we move here,” he says. “What about you?”
Daphne sighs.
She doesn’t want to make the decision just because of him, but it’s really not. It’s because of him, but also because of her, because she’s tired of being apart from her family, because she can’t possibly let Eloise and Hyacinth be the cool aunts for Anthony’s kids… There’s so much more going on than a man she loves.
“I can be happy here, if it’s with you,” she lets herself say.
Simon smiles, “Trust me, I love you so much I’ll move to Ohio for you.”
She laughs, her eyes burning just a bit as he takes her hand and kisses it. No, it’s not just for him, but he makes her the happiest. Anyone who criticizes doing such an important thing for a man and her family, well, they could kindly go fuck themselves. Daphne always gets what she wants, and what she wants is this.