Work Text:
The fair by the seaside has never really changed much.
After months in the cramped quarters of their spaceship, suffocated by endless darkness, nothing quite soothes the soul like the ocean. The flashing lights of the stalls and the Ferris wheel against the shifting hues of the sunset and the salty air…Daisy takes a deep breath, and smiles. She leans against the railings; this is what home smells like.
Beside her, Daniel is pulling tufts from a comically large cloud of cotton candy. He had bought it on a whim; not having to be constantly wary of what they eat is not something he would ever take for granted again. Familiarity is good. Safe, known, nostalgic fair food is good.
‘You want some?’ He asks, holding it out for Daisy; she turns around, her smile immediately brightening when their eyes meet.
‘Sure.’
Daisy leans closer; but instead of pulling off a bit, she goes in face first. Daniel watches, eyes wide and barely suppressing an incredulous smile, as she takes a large bite between her teeth. When she comes up, the sugary strands are clinging onto her nose, her chin, and her cheeks. He huffs out a soft laugh.
‘Dais, you’ve got it all over your face.’
‘Oh yea?’ Her voice is muffled by the pink cloud between her teeth. ‘I think you’ve got some on your nose—’
Before he can properly react, Daisy has pulled off a tuft of candy and boops him on the nose. He blinks.
‘Daisy…’
‘There’s some on your face too—’ She pinches off another bit, chuckling.
‘Dais, no—’ Breathless laughter undercuts his words, which only sets her off further. Daisy manages to smear another bit of cotton candy across his cheek, and she is met with only more laughs. Before long, they are doubling over, hanging onto the railing, giggling and chortling without a care in the world.
Eventually, the laughs and giggles subside; Daisy is still gasping when Daniel straightens up and says,
‘Look at us, just like a bunch of fools.’
‘I know,’ Daisy replies with a deep breath, though the mischievous grin never leaves her face. ‘Look at this idiotic fool that you made me.’
‘My fool,’ he quickly quips back, voice dropping low. The golden lights hit the sugar crystals on her face at just the right angle, giving her a sheen of sparkles.
He closes the distance between them.
Daisy’s lips have tasted of many things. Like desperation and promise when they kissed the first (second?) time. Like hope. Like sorrow. Like pure, unadulterated lust. But right now, her lips taste like what the fairgrounds try to pass off as pink vanilla flavor.
And it’s perfect.