geonncannon
in
mmom
Day 21 Fic: "Late Night Reap," Dead Like Me, Daisy/George
Title: Late-Night Reap
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: George/Daisy
Words: 979
'Stupid inconsiderate people, dying at Armpit A.M...'
George sat on the stairs leading up from the subway, resting her chin on her hand. The giant clock over the platform telling her that D. Pratt had four minutes left to live. She stood and walked down the stairs, sighing as she dragged her feet across the yellow tile. So bored. So tired. She'd been up for the breakfast meeting only to be told her assignment was in the early morning. Despite that reprieve, she still had to pull overtime at Happy Time.
A janitor pushed his yellow bucket past her and frowned. "You ain't s'posed to be in here."
"Sorry," George muttered, aiming over her shoulder. "The, uh, door was open and I just..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the janitor muttered. "Dumb kids, potheads, doped up and wanderin' through any open door." He glared at her and said, "Well?! Go on, get outta here."
She glanced at his name tag and saw that his first name was Donald. "Sorry, Mr. Pratt."
He squinted. "I know you?"
"Nope," George said, patting him on the shoulder. His arm lit up with white light and she smiled. "And you never will."
He cursed and shook his head, pushing his bucket away. As George walked out of the station, she heard something squeak across a wet floor. Donald Pratt cried out, his voice cut off by a solid "THWACK."
---
George unlocked the front door and slipped into the quiet house, hoping she wouldn't disturb Daisy. Not out of any deep-seated consideration, but if Daisy woke up she would want to talk. Do makeovers. Paint each other's toenails. It was all so... girly. She peered into the living room and saw Daisy sprawled on the couch.
She started to tiptoe past, but slowed when she caught sight of what Daisy was wearing. It was a fairly new kimono, tied loosely at the waist. It was black with white and orange flowers all over, one of them prominently covering her right breast. The halves of the robe were open enough to show her pink nightgown, the lacy cups curling lazily over her pale breasts. George leaned against the doorframe, staring at Daisy's legs.
Of course, Daisy probably called them 'gams.' "Do you like my gams, Georgia?" George smirked, thinking about the time Daisy had risen in the middle of dinner and lifted her skirt. She'd been wearing a garter belt and wanted George's opinion on them. Now, however, her legs were completely bare. The bottom of the kimono flared slightly and showed more of Daisy's lower body than George had ever seen.
As she watched, Daisy shifted and rested a hand on her thigh. George stifled a laugh. It almost looked like...
Daisy moved her hand higher, pushing her nightgown out of the way and touching herself.
Oh, shit, George thought, eyes wide.
Daisy moaned in her sleep, a smile curling the edges of her mouth. She brought her other hand up, slipping her hand into her hair and arching her back. "Oh, Geor-gia, mm..."
George stepped back and ducked around the wall. 'Did she see me?' She peeked around the edge and saw Daisy was still asleep.
'No. So... why did she...?'
"Shit," she gasped, realizing why Daisy had said her name. She ducked back behind the wall, leaning forward to see how far Daisy went.
Unbidden, she found herself rubbing herself through her jeans. She looked down at her hand, hissing, "Stop that!" but unable to cease the actions. She bit her lip and looked around the corner again. Daisy was now fully-involved, her pinky extended as if observing some sort of masturbation etiquette.
George continued touching herself, humping her hand and trying not to make too much noise. She'd done this before, of course. She'd fantasized about all of her fellow Reapers. Except for Roxy. And, well, Rube. And Mason only once.
But Betty. Oh, Betty had caused some problems those first few weeks as a Reaper. But then Daisy had tromped in, having blown this and blew that. Where Betty had been chipper about her sex goddesshood, Daisy had been upfront and in your face.
George really shouldn't have been surprised when Daisy started showing up in her fantasies. Just a matter of time, really. But now, in the same room, hearing Daisy moan her name in that slick, molasses accent of hers... oh, it was too much.
George licked her lip and came, pressing her hand tightly between her legs. When she finished, she glanced one more time over her shoulder at Daisy. She was still on the couch, long legs poking out from beneath her dark robe. George sighed quietly and headed upstairs, trying to move as quietly as possible.
She moved through her bedroom in the dark, gathering her toiletries for a quick shower. When she stepped back into the hallway, she was surprised to see Daisy standing at her own bedroom door. She turned, hand on the knob and smiled like a goddess in a painting. "Why, Georgia," she drawled, dipping her chin slightly. "I was trying to wait up for you."
"Late reap," George said, feeling utterly lame and uncomfortable. She wondered if Daisy had come downstairs. If so, was it now running down her... no. No, no, no, not down that road, nope. She forced a smile and said, "I was... about to take a shower. Did you need the bathroom first or..."
"No," Daisy said, eyelids closing as if she were dreaming. "All... taken care of."
George was certain she was blushing crimson. "Oh. All right. Well. See ya." She ducked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
"Oh, and Georgia?"
"Yeah?"
"I moved the mirror from the kitchen into the front hallway."
George's eyes widened.
"Night, Georgia. Sweet dreams..."
George heard Daisy's bedroom door shut and buried her face in her towel.
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: George/Daisy
Words: 979
'Stupid inconsiderate people, dying at Armpit A.M...'
George sat on the stairs leading up from the subway, resting her chin on her hand. The giant clock over the platform telling her that D. Pratt had four minutes left to live. She stood and walked down the stairs, sighing as she dragged her feet across the yellow tile. So bored. So tired. She'd been up for the breakfast meeting only to be told her assignment was in the early morning. Despite that reprieve, she still had to pull overtime at Happy Time.
A janitor pushed his yellow bucket past her and frowned. "You ain't s'posed to be in here."
"Sorry," George muttered, aiming over her shoulder. "The, uh, door was open and I just..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the janitor muttered. "Dumb kids, potheads, doped up and wanderin' through any open door." He glared at her and said, "Well?! Go on, get outta here."
She glanced at his name tag and saw that his first name was Donald. "Sorry, Mr. Pratt."
He squinted. "I know you?"
"Nope," George said, patting him on the shoulder. His arm lit up with white light and she smiled. "And you never will."
He cursed and shook his head, pushing his bucket away. As George walked out of the station, she heard something squeak across a wet floor. Donald Pratt cried out, his voice cut off by a solid "THWACK."
---
George unlocked the front door and slipped into the quiet house, hoping she wouldn't disturb Daisy. Not out of any deep-seated consideration, but if Daisy woke up she would want to talk. Do makeovers. Paint each other's toenails. It was all so... girly. She peered into the living room and saw Daisy sprawled on the couch.
She started to tiptoe past, but slowed when she caught sight of what Daisy was wearing. It was a fairly new kimono, tied loosely at the waist. It was black with white and orange flowers all over, one of them prominently covering her right breast. The halves of the robe were open enough to show her pink nightgown, the lacy cups curling lazily over her pale breasts. George leaned against the doorframe, staring at Daisy's legs.
Of course, Daisy probably called them 'gams.' "Do you like my gams, Georgia?" George smirked, thinking about the time Daisy had risen in the middle of dinner and lifted her skirt. She'd been wearing a garter belt and wanted George's opinion on them. Now, however, her legs were completely bare. The bottom of the kimono flared slightly and showed more of Daisy's lower body than George had ever seen.
As she watched, Daisy shifted and rested a hand on her thigh. George stifled a laugh. It almost looked like...
Daisy moved her hand higher, pushing her nightgown out of the way and touching herself.
Oh, shit, George thought, eyes wide.
Daisy moaned in her sleep, a smile curling the edges of her mouth. She brought her other hand up, slipping her hand into her hair and arching her back. "Oh, Geor-gia, mm..."
George stepped back and ducked around the wall. 'Did she see me?' She peeked around the edge and saw Daisy was still asleep.
'No. So... why did she...?'
"Shit," she gasped, realizing why Daisy had said her name. She ducked back behind the wall, leaning forward to see how far Daisy went.
Unbidden, she found herself rubbing herself through her jeans. She looked down at her hand, hissing, "Stop that!" but unable to cease the actions. She bit her lip and looked around the corner again. Daisy was now fully-involved, her pinky extended as if observing some sort of masturbation etiquette.
George continued touching herself, humping her hand and trying not to make too much noise. She'd done this before, of course. She'd fantasized about all of her fellow Reapers. Except for Roxy. And, well, Rube. And Mason only once.
But Betty. Oh, Betty had caused some problems those first few weeks as a Reaper. But then Daisy had tromped in, having blown this and blew that. Where Betty had been chipper about her sex goddesshood, Daisy had been upfront and in your face.
George really shouldn't have been surprised when Daisy started showing up in her fantasies. Just a matter of time, really. But now, in the same room, hearing Daisy moan her name in that slick, molasses accent of hers... oh, it was too much.
George licked her lip and came, pressing her hand tightly between her legs. When she finished, she glanced one more time over her shoulder at Daisy. She was still on the couch, long legs poking out from beneath her dark robe. George sighed quietly and headed upstairs, trying to move as quietly as possible.
She moved through her bedroom in the dark, gathering her toiletries for a quick shower. When she stepped back into the hallway, she was surprised to see Daisy standing at her own bedroom door. She turned, hand on the knob and smiled like a goddess in a painting. "Why, Georgia," she drawled, dipping her chin slightly. "I was trying to wait up for you."
"Late reap," George said, feeling utterly lame and uncomfortable. She wondered if Daisy had come downstairs. If so, was it now running down her... no. No, no, no, not down that road, nope. She forced a smile and said, "I was... about to take a shower. Did you need the bathroom first or..."
"No," Daisy said, eyelids closing as if she were dreaming. "All... taken care of."
George was certain she was blushing crimson. "Oh. All right. Well. See ya." She ducked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
"Oh, and Georgia?"
"Yeah?"
"I moved the mirror from the kitchen into the front hallway."
George's eyes widened.
"Night, Georgia. Sweet dreams..."
George heard Daisy's bedroom door shut and buried her face in her towel.