warning/notes: none, just single dad!james and fluff. this is gonna be a fic series, shout out to the anon who gave me this idea way before my break! although in the request james' daughter was 5, not 6, but i only remembered that after i'd already finished writing... anyway, hope you guys like it! english isn't my native language, not proofread.
"you have way too high expectations and standards, you know? maybe lower the bar a little and, y'know... relax?" you hear this from every other person when it comes to relationships.
but you don't wanna lower the bar. what for? you don't live in a vacuum and you see what guys are like these days, and what people around you call "high expectations" is literally the bare minimum. you're smart, well-rounded, beautiful, and even if you weren't any of those things- so what? you still deserve basic human decency, not bouncing between one extreme and the other, where you're stuck with either some andrew tate red pill incel bullshit follower or some super conservative "provider and protector of the family" type who might open doors for you but also wants to turn you into a housewife.
no. you're not waiting forย perfect, you're just waiting for... decent. reasonable. flawed, but not unhinged. you're willing to work on a relationship, you're willing to put in the effort, but it has to be mutual and it just has to... resonate somewhere deep inside you.
"don't wait for the love of your life to just knock on your door," you hear from coworkers who strongly suggest you sign up for tinder.
but sometimes, things fall into place the way they're supposed to without much effort.
hearing a knock at the door, you open it, and your eyes first land on a tall man in an unbuttoned shirt with a white tank top underneath and jeans, dark hair tousled, a tired-awkward smile on his lips, hands in his pockets- and you can spot a bit of his tattoo peeking out, a kid's backpack slung behind his shoulder- and then your gaze drops to a girl in a blue girl scout uniform, daisy petals pinned to her vest along with her troop number and an american flag patch. you've seen them before, you think they live at the end of the street, but you're not exactly big on chatting with neighbors.
"hello, my name is olivia and this is my dad james! i'm a girl scout from troop 'daisy'! would you like to buy some cookies to help our troop reach our goal?" olivia says clearly and with expression, then turns to james, clearly looking for his help.
"tell her about the goal, baby," he leans down and whispers in her ear, gently rubbing her back. "and which cookies you've got."
"with the money we raise, we're gonna buy food and toys for an animal shelter," olivia adds, a little less confident now, takes a breath, and continues brightly, "i have crispy thin mints, samoas, and..." she looks back at him again.
"and gluten-free toffee tastic," james says and, seemingly for the first time, lifts his gaze to you. "six dollars a box."
his piercing blue eyes linger on you.
"you're just adorable, you know that? how old are you, olivia?" you ask, leaning slightly toward the girl, and she smiles proudly, showing off a recently lost baby tooth on the side.
"then i'll take three boxes of thin mints and three boxes of toffee tastic. how many boxes is that total?" you ask, and olivia giggles, clearly amused by your question.
"six! i can count, i'm going to school in the fall actually," olivia says with an important air, and james watches this exchange with a now more relaxed smile. thank god she inherited the ability to communicate with people and the world around her from her mother, not from him.
"yeah? maybe you can figure out how much money i need to pay then? or should we ask your dad for help?" you lift your gaze to james - your eyes meet. "you count, and i'll go grab some cash, okay, olivia? you two can have a seat," you nod toward a small bench on the porch, a little coffee table next to it with a vase of dried flowers in the center.
while you go inside to get money, james and olivia move toward the bench. he pulls out six boxes of cookies, and olivia, sticking out the tip of her tongue, tries to count on her fingers how much you owe - she hasn't learned multiplication yet.
"two packs of cookies is twelve dollars... three..." she counts out loud, bending her little fingers, and james watches his daughter with a warm smile, not interfering unless she asks for help, because he knows she can do it. he tries to be a better parent than his father was, and for him that's the number one priority, given that he's raising olivia on his own after the divorce.
"dad? i can't count it," olivia sighs, giving up, and james rubs her back encouragingly.
"that's okay, baby girl. you'll learn that in school. it'll be thirty-six. tell her she needs to pay thirty-six dollars."
you come out of the house with your wallet and a pack of reese's peanut butter cups.
"i dunno if you like these, but i love them," you say, "taking treats from strangers is actually not a great idea, but even if you don't eat them- just consider it a little gift for you," smiling, you hand the pack to olivia and her eyes go wide as she immediately takes them.
"thank you so much, miss! thank you, you're so kind! that'll be, uh... that'll be thirty-six dollars!" the girl says, catching herself. james had already placed the six boxes of cookies on the coffee table and was now silently watching your interaction with olivia again. it was heartwarming to see her eyes light up with joy.
"thank you," james says, looking at you. his voice sounds deeper and lower, like a wild cat's purr.
"thankย you," you say with a soft smile and hand him forty dollars. "keep the change. homeless animals deserve more food and toys."
james takes the money from your hands, his rough, calloused-from-constant-physical-labor fingers brushing against your soft ones. no electric spark between you, but the touch feels surprisingly pleasant. you can get a better look at his tattoo now - a tree trunk on his forearm, its roots trailing down onto his fingers.
"thank you! you're so kind, miss," olivia says, beaming her toothless smile, looking at you with her big eyes as you fill out the cookie order form. "i hope you like the cookies! we're gonna be selling them at the city park on saturday, you can come and buy more!"
james quietly hums, proud of the sales skills already showing in olivia's character, and you let out a soft laugh.
"if i'm not busy, i'll definitely come. good luck with sales, you two," you hand the form back to james and he tucks it into the kid's backpack, which looks especially funny on his broad shoulders.
"goodbye, miss!" olivia says, but james hesitates.
"your table legs are wobbly," he says, looking at you, "barely hanging on. the tabletop's glass, if you put something heavy on it, the legs might give out, the glass will break and that won't be great. i could stop by sometime this week, fix it," he clears his throat and offers. his gaze is glued to your face again. "i already have your phone number, so i can just text you and we'll figure it out."
you glance at the coffee table. are the legs really wobbly? you hadn't noticed before. james, catching your hesitation, raises his palms up.
not that you're worried about money. you smile and shrug.
"and here i thought it was an elegant way to sell an extra box of cookies," you tease him, and a boyish smile almost spreads across james' face. "text me and we'll figure it out then. thank you," you tilt your head slightly and finally step back inside.
well, you definitely opened the door to something more than just a girl scout today.
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