Page 4 of Second Chance

Daniel probably thinks he’s being smooth, grinning into the mirror and not straight at Tony. “Me too.”

It’s enough to keep them both smiling as they run through their morning routine. Daniel brushes his teeth and shaves once the mirror defogs enough while Tony blow-dries his hair. While Tony’s brushing his teeth, Daniel wanders back to the kitchen to finish up his tea.

“Hey, have you seen my hair tie?” Tony asks when he’s put on fresh boxers and the T-shirt he accidentally left at Daniel’s two weeks ago. Daniel must have washed it; it smells of his detergent.

Daniel sets his phone and his teacup down, looking over at Tony.

His eyebrows shoot up. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you with your hair down.”

Tony strikes a pose. His hair is pretty much covering his eyes. “How do I look?”

“You remind me of something…”

“A supermodel,” Tony suggests. “One of those pictures of Saint Sebastian you were showing me the other week. An international soccer star who regularly gets his ass fondled by other dudes on the pitch but exclusively fucks women.”

“No…” Daniel shakes his head. “Have you ever seen those Highland cows? With the fringe?”

“Asshole,” Tony grumbles. “Seriously though, have you seen my hair tie? I left it by the sink. It’s my last one.”

“Sorry. Maybe it fell?”

They wander through the hallway and the bathroom, examining the floor.

Behind the cracked bedroom door, an ominous noise alerts Tony, and he pushes the door farther open.

On the floor in front of the bed is the cat, purring his heart out and pushing the hair tie back and forth between his paws.

“Worf,” Tony admonishes, torn between amusement and frustration. This fucking cat. “You have toys.” He snatches up the hair tie and sets about finger-combing his hair into a ponytail.

Daniel shakes his head sadly. “Those were legally acquired. Nowhere near as exciting as contraband. You want coffee?”

“Not yours.” Tony kisses his cheek placatingly before he can get upset about it. Daniel is not a coffee drinker, and his coffee supplies show it. “We need to go?”

Tony opens the fridge and pulls out his sandwich, neatly arranged in one of Daniel’s extensive collection of plastic boxes with click-lids that, despite being different sizes, are all exactly the wrong size for a large slice of bread. It’s an excuse to slice a sandwich diagonally, which secretly thrills Tony by virtue of being nostalgic. Figuring out which is his and which is Daniel’s distracts him—Daniel prefers two slices of bread with cheese and nothing else between them, the weirdo—and it takes him a moment to notice Daniel hasn’t answered.

“Sweetheart?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Daniel looks up from his phone. “Just checking what I’m meeting Lily Peterson about.”

Tony makes a noncommittal humming sound, passing Daniel his sandwich.

“I forget how young students are sometimes.” A rueful little smile plays around Daniel’s lips as he turns his phone screen so Tony can read.

…want to make sure I’m starting this semester on track. I’m doing really well. I found a great therapist in Hudson, and my boyfriend said he’d drive me. He’s the same age as me. I promise! The boyfriend, not the therapist.

“Cute.”

“Yeah.”

Tony hesitates a second. “You think she’s ready for all that?”

“All what?”

“School, therapy. Dating.”

“Oh.” A frown line tightens on Daniel’s forehead. “I guess it’s up to her. After what happened to Mario…I don’t know. I mean, she was never with him, so she might be able to bounce back faster.”

Tony swallows his instant reaction, which is to askfaster than who? Gianna, Mario’s only other victim, as far as they know, is aggressively fine about the death of her daughter’s father. Tony would risk a family fight if he so much as breathed the word “therapy” in her direction. And neither Daniel nor Colette, who were arguably closer to Mario before his murder, have tried to find a therapist or even talked about how they feel about his death. Then again, unlike Lily, they didn’t attempt suicide in reaction to Mario’s death. “She’s young.”

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