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Soap, scrub. Soap, scrub. That was the routine Daisy had developed doing the dishes as soon as she knew how. A pan she had used to make eggs to surprise Guest early in the morning, Find the soap bottle, pour a small amount… where was the sponge? Had she misplaced it? She couldn't recall. Leaning over the counter to reach for her phone, she heard a shuffle behind her.
That was weird, she'd never heard one up until now. Come to think of it, Guest had been quiet all evening, not a single peep or friendly jest about the amounts of pepper she added to the chicken and peppers.. was he alright? Should she check on him like a good girlfriend or wash the dishes properly like a good roommate?
Humming in thought, she scanned around the room briefly for that familiar face. Finding nothing, a sigh came into the air and away her ramble of thoughts went. ‘OH RIGHT THE SPONGE.’ Now just where could it be? She'd already checked, hadn't she? Maybe she dropped it somewhere and just couldn't hear it? No, that would be impossible. She would've, in the silent home she abided in.
It wouldn't hurt to check, were the thoughts ringing through poor daisies ears before turning to find a man, kneeled over behind her. Pan in hand, fight or flight senses screaming at her she flung it at his head, knocking a blunt force at the skin of his forehead. He yelped, and only then did the cinnamon haired woman realize it was her boyfriend.
“Shit– Guest are you okay?”
She crouched, placing his hands into hers and removing whatever black object was in his hands as she searched for any bleeding or tissue broken. Finding some, she got to work.
“I'll get you the first aid kit, hang tight.”
On top of the fridge? Which cabinet? Left or right? Did his life depend on this? She barely registered the words leaving his mouth, being
“No Daisy, I'm fine, just look at me for a moment-”
“What is it? Are you lightheaded? How much pain are you in? Do you need the ER or do you think we can handle it? Can you even think?” Daisy rambled, not turning to look at the poor man, eyes trained on the hopeful pursuit of the white box of medical supplies she just couldn't see.
There it was. Daisy found the object of her desire and pulled it from the cobwebs and dust growing that she named The Hell In Our Kitchen™.
Checking for what was required, the brunette hopped from her awkward stance on the counter to the cold hardwood, not paying any mind to how catlike and frankly painful it was to attempt.
And there Guest was, looking a mess with a single streak of blood drifting to his nose, as if his forehead had gotten the worst of it. Beside him was a discarded box the size relatively that of her hand, snapped shut.
Now wasn't the time to question him, she reminded her thoughts and opened the kit.
“What were you even attempting to do?” Before he could begin to think up an answer, that thought train was interrupted. “Forget that. It was rhetorical. Sit up.”
What did the first aid instructor say to do? Oh right. Clean it. Hair bouncing as they got up from the awkward half sitting half kneeling position Daisy leaned and rinsed a washcloth, seconds after finding the first to grab, straining and bouncing back down.
Defeated and just wanting the pain to be over, complied when his girlfriend lightly dusted the abrasion across his forehead with the cool cloth, thoughts of the ring in the box beside him momentarily abandoned as he tried the best to bask in the wonderful sight of her kneeling in front of him.
Flicking a piece of paint from the pan that had previously been hit against his head, Daisy cast aside the pieces of hair guarding his face, and pressed down with the cloth. “This might hurt. Just think about.. brunch with Matt tomorrow!”
“We're having brunch with Matt tomorrow?’’ He questioned, trying his best to be as still as possible for a Guest alike him. Flexing his jaw, having a staring contest with the VANS logo on her chest, anything to keep his mind satisfied.
“We are now!” Daisy went along with the small talk, checking if the blood trail had stopped. By Brighteyes good grace, it had. Whispering a silent thanks, she pulled out a tube of neosporin, gauze and medical tape.
“..Okay. Sounds fun.” By Telamon the wait was agonizing. “Brunch would be better if you were my wife..” he mumbled to himself.
“What?”
“What?” Fuck he said it aloud.
“.. I'm going to choose to ignore that, Smith.”
“Alright Mrs Merryday.”
He'd gotten even more teasing when injured? Was he getting delirious? Was this a sign to head to the ER? Should she call an ambulance or the police?
Applying the neosporin, she bit into the gauze wrapper to open and peeled it from the plastic. Hearing Guests wince from the sudden contact, she braced herself for more complaints, which strangely never came.
Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she followed Guest’s gaze to the box.
“Yeah, what even is that thing supposed to be? I've been trying to figure it out but I can't piece it together.”
“If I told you, the hours I spent planning a corny speech would go to waste.”
“What are you even saying, Guest? I told you to be more clear with me-” Kneeling again? Really? Cliché of him, he'd been doing that this whole time.
Wait. WAIT. It clicked. The kneeling? The black box, the wife exchange.. “Don't tell me.”
“I'll tell you alright, Daisy-belle.” He shifted his head to clear the hair from his sweaty forehead and to partially show his smile to his beautiful girlfriend in front of him.
“Daisy, since the day you comforted me over my status of being the last guest, I always knew it'd be you. And I'm so glad I can finally prove that point, just finally have gotten to know you enough. You've been with me exactly two years and ten days, known me longer than I think I'll ever count, and I hope to see those days grow with you. Daisy Marie Merryday, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
“Of course, you dork.” Were the only words he ever wanted to hear again, as she brought him up and let him slide the sapphire and metal ring onto her finger, both avoiding the tears they had tried to dance around.
“I love you.”
“I love me too.”
“More than me?”
“Not more than you.”