comfort zone
dt17 / dwd fic | less than 1000 words | Gosalyn & Drake family feelings | the first fic I wrote about these two is here
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"Now, Gosalyn," her dad chided, a hand catching her shoulder before she could stroll into the street. "Remember, we should always look both ways before we cross. Safety first."
She sighed, shooting him a side-eye, "Dad,” she intoned flatly, gesturing in front of them, “nobody’s coming." The road was demonstrably empty. In this part of town it was unused, at this time of day when most people were at work, only rarely would a car pass by.
"And yet we can never be too careful," he responded sagely to which she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, that's rich coming from 'Mr. Dangerous'," she snarked.
He raised one eyebrow at her, seemingly unimpressed. "I only 'get dangerous' when I have to," he informed her blandly. She rolled her eyes for the second time. Yeah, right. As if he he wasn’t just being overprotective since the last mission she tagged along on had gone slightly awry.
She was about to say as much, but then— he was offering a hand for her to hold before they crossed. Twitching his fingers expectantly, and waiting for her to take it.
Some heavy feeling curled up in her gut. Holding her parent's hand reminded her a little too much of being younger— when she was someone else's kid. It felt uncomfortably familiar and dangerously childish. She shoved her hands in her pockets harshly, mouth tensing into a frown.
"I'm not a little kid, Dad. I don't need to hold your hand," she muttered, voice rough, avoiding his eyes as she spoke.
"Oh," he exhaled the word sharply as if she'd just knocked the breath out of him. He drew back the hand quickly, staring down at her wide-eyed with an expression that looked something like heartbreak. She hated that look on his face and understood the feeling a little too closely. His hand hovered for a moment, held close to his chest, before dropping unceremoniously back to his side.
"Of course, Gosalyn," he said too softly. It was frustrating to hear him like this, and now warmth was pricking at her eyes. She shut it down, though. She wouldn't be crying, not here in broad daylight. "Of course you don't," he agreed, voice resigned and his face just a little too blank.
She watched him sullenly as he dutifully led by example and checked both ways, eyebrows knitted, before moving to cross. All the while, he would glance back periodically to be certain she was still with him. She kept her eyes on her feet as they walked, only peeking up at him through her bangs when they reached halfway on the cross-walk.
That weighted feeling welled up in her chest again, too big to contain. It was choking up her throat and threatening to escape with each breath. It felt like some kind of want. Like the sort of fondness and security that a child feels with their parent might be waiting right there in his hand. If she could just reach out and grab it.
Gosalyn Waddlemeyer— Gosalyn Mallard now, she reminded herself. That feeling of being cottoned up by her own emotions eased just a little with the thought.
Gosalyn Mallard had never been the sort of person to back down from a challenge. She tried new tricks on her skateboard and wasn't afraid to crash. She played every sport and didn’t cry when she skinned her knees. She'd never been the kid who stayed back. Never been the one who stayed away from things she didn't know, from the things that scared her. She'd never let fear control her.
And right now she was terrified. Drake was her Dad now. She already knew that, had already accepted it, embraced it. She was grateful, she was so glad, and she was so scared. It felt like the moment she got too comfortable the rug would get swept from under her feet all over again. Getting too close— it was dangerous.
But Gosalyn, she was brave and faced danger head-on. And as for her dad, well, he relished the danger. He dove in headfirst and got dangerous.
'When he had to,' his chiding voice reminded her stubbornly, even in her own head. She almost felt like smiling again.
So, she took a deep breath, withdrew her hand from her pocket and got a little too close to the edge. She darted her hand out to grip his where it swayed at his side as they walked. Wrapping her hand around his fingers in an action that felt remarkably un-dangerous and far more comforting. It felt right and it eased all the heavy emotions clamping down her chest.
His step faltered for a second, as he looked down at her, his face open with shock before melting into a smile. It was so mushy, and it conveyed an unbridled affection that she couldn’t look at for too long. She was ducking her head again quickly but keeping her grip on his hand.
Gracefully, he said nothing, seeming to understand she just needed some time to sort herself out. He only walked, returning the hold, swinging their hands between them gently, and smiling to himself lovingly. It crinkled up his eyes and folded his cheeks and she found she couldn't quite look directly at that expression. Yet.
She watched the sidewalk as they moved, away from the crosswalk, and further towards home. Tentatively, she smiled to herself too, hope just starting to soothe the wrinkle in her brow and happiness curling up the corners of her mouth. She might not be a little kid anymore, but her Dad was here, and she could still hold his hand.
