@eternusflames
It had taken weeks for Tate to be able to see Milo again in person. Her emotions were all screwed but so far he had given her her space and respected her boundaries, even when she acted like a pregnant woman with all of her stupid rules. Part of her thought she came up with ridiculous things just to see if he would stick it out and stay around. She was so ready to lose another person in her life, but he never showed an ounce of frustration. She wanted to cry some nights when laying in bed thinking that she had a father who probably cared more than her previous one, but she also knew how easily that could be ripped from her, how one wrong word could mean a slap to the face and a bloody lip and she would often cry herself to sleep, not wanting her real father, her only father, to hurt her like she had been in the past.
The last time she saw her biological father, they had gone out for ice cream a few weeks ago but after some nudging from the older, Tate finally agreed to meet him at his house for a real meal, for real food, for a dinner-daddy-daughter-date (thankfully he hadn’t used those exact words, otherwise she would’ve pulled her hair out).
After hesitantly knocking on the door they said their pleasantries and she saw Milo wipe his hands on a towel and swing it over his shoulder. It was... it was new. It looked so easy, but she had never seen someone do it in front of her. It made him a real person, somehow. Like he was trying. Like he was good at cooking, he had made more than those TV dinners or cold cereal in his lifetime, and it shouldn’t be shocking because he had so many years on her, but it was nice to know someone she was related to had some of their shit together in this hellscape called life.
He led her to the table and quickly placed what he had made in front of her as she got situated in her chair. “You uh... you made this for me? Us, you. Us. You made this for us?” she asked, looking down at the food placed in front of her. She would’ve been happy sitting at the counter, sitting next to and not facing Milo, but the way her father had situated the placemats it appeared they were kitty-cornered to each other and she may have to look at the right half of his face.