@theroseandthebeast was like "I wanna see one of Daniel's daughters coming home and seeing this random twink putting shit into a blender." So here we are.
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“Hey Dad?” Leah kicks the door open to the apartment. “I picked up your meds from the pharmacy. I don’t know why you won’t let me set up the mail order for you, it makes things so much easier for both of us.” She dumps her bags onto the table between the kitchen and the living room.
There’s a man standing in front of the counter. He’s young, younger than Leah by at least a decade, probably more. Good looking too, with dark hair and a thin, angular face. He’s putting kale and carrots into a Vitamix but isn’t turning it on yet. She has no fucking idea when Dad would have acquired a Vitamix, or a handsome twink… assistant? (She slams down immediately on that line of inquiry. That’s not something she’s prepared to think about.)
“If it is more convenient for you to not have to pick up your father’s prescriptions, Ms. Molloy, I am happy to have it arranged.” The man scoops powder out of a container and adds it to the blender.
“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you? And why are you making a smoothie in my dad’s apartment?”
“My name is Rashid. And the smoothie is for your father when he wakes from his nap.”
Something about the name tickles in her memory. “Dubai Rashid? Butler for the weirdo Dad went to interview Rashid?”
He smirks, like he’s pleased she made the connection. “The one and the same.”
“Also when did Dad start drinking smoothies? Or consuming vegetables of any sort?” Somehow that’s more approachable than asking why this stranger is in her dad’s apartment, or taking care of him in a way she or Heather probably should be.
“Travel can shake up routines, Ms. Molloy. It can also leave a person open to… experimentation.”
“I see.” It’s not that she doesn’t, but this is a fucking lot. “Also, it’s Leah. If you’re going to be making smoothies for my dad, I think that puts us on a first name basis.”
The bedroom door opens, and Dad comes out. He does look better than the last time she saw him, but there’s something that’s always going to feel weird, gray and withdrawn as he is now. (He’s her dad. It’s not fucking right.)
“How was your nap, Daniel?” It sounds perfunctory, but Leah catches the way Rashid looks her father over, assessing his condition.
“You know,” he replies. He looks at her, something softening in his face. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Leah, to her surprise, goes up to hug him. “Hey Dad.” He smells like shitty drugstore shampoo and expensive cologne she can’t identify, and it’s comforting in a way she doesn’t understand.
“I guess you’ve met Rashid.” He keeps an arm around her, something he hasn’t done in years.
“We’ve talked.” She looks up at him and smirks. “Isn’t it a bit late for you to be having a crisis of sexuality?”
He looks at her with all the exasperation he can muster after a lifetime of dealing with her bullshit, but he’s smiling just a little. “Consider it payback for dealing with you in college.”
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