Daisy had fallen asleep on the couch, at some point around seven am he woke to the sound of the morning news ending on CNN and grumbled, turned the TV off and crept to the guest room. He fell asleep on the bed and did not wake until until past noon. He was in the kitchen cooking up a storm, or trying to. Today was one of the rare occations where he felt that he could actually eat.

"Are you destroying my kitchen?" Jacques had come through the front door to the apartment, as quietly as he had left that morning. He was dressed in a pair of slacks, a thin pinstripe shirt and a pull over vest. His jacket he tosses over a stool at the breakfast bench and a few grocery bags are placed on the bench. Sunglasses have been slid up into his hair, keeping the strands combed back. Of course he smells nice, he always smells nice, and he looks more healthy today then yesterday, returning back to his olive-tan.

With a cheeky smile Daisy looks at Jacques and tilts his head, 'who, moi?' A shake of his head, 'no. I'm creating a master-piece!' He lifts the back of his hand and accidently stripes his cheek with a bit of flour. There's a mixing bowl on the counter and the pan is sizzling with what appears to be pancakes. There are pieces of fruit chopped up nicely on the cutting board and there's a fresh pit of coffee brewing. One more lingering look at Jacques then Daisy turns and moves for the pan. He looks cute bustling around in his Levi's and nothing else.

Raising his brows, he took in the flour, the fruit, and the sizzling liquid in the pan. "Oh, is that what they call it?" dryly. Staying out of the others way, Jacques begins to put the groceries away. Mostly it included fruit and vegetables, but there was a loaf of fresh bread, and some packages from the butchers that are stowed away in the freezer.

If Daisy noticed Jacques' lack of enthusiasm the doesn't show it. He flips the pancake over and pokes it lightly. A furrow of brows in thought as he watches it turn golden brown, then he smiles and murmurs, 'Rembrandt would be proud.' His eyes cast up, searching for some clock, when he finds none he turns to Jacques, 'what time's it?'

Closing the freezer, he slid back his sleeve to look at the wrist watch on his left hand - he's the type to wear the face on the inside of the wrist, too. "Just before one." Moving across the kitchen, while staying clear of flour mess, he fetched himself a cup for a coffee.

Daisy nods in thanks, but is too busy slipping the ready pancake onto a plate and filling the pan with batter to speak. He knows what day it is today, work day, and that means haul his ass over to the White Rabbit. Lips purse, hoping Jacques won't ask him where he's going when he leaves. 'Hungry?

"Not for startch carbs." Sugar is added to the cup before the coffee is and a dash of milk, later. "I'll steal some fruit though." He stirs his coffee and leans his back against the bench. "Are we going out to fetch you some decent clothes today?"

Daisy shrugs, if he doesn't wanna eat then he doesn't wanna eat...after all Daisy couldn't stomach Jacques' omelette. 'If it's a quick run, sure...I'm game. But only for a few things.' He turns the other pancake then switches the flame off. He's not about to eat the six pancakes he made...maybe one, so the rest may end up turning into Frisbees.

"You really haven't been shopping properly before, have you? No such things as quick runs, even for a few things. If you're going to wear clothes, one might as well wear something that fits properly." Trust a model to say such things. The coffee is too hot to sip and he leaves it on the bench and begins to eye the fresh fruit.

He plops a single pancake on a plate then moves to take some fruit off the chopping board (with a fork because he's sure Jacques is weird like that and my not touch it if he's contaminated with his fingers). 'Well, I gotta leave the house at like seven today...

Snatching a hand out when Daisy has stabbed some of the fruit with the fork, Jacques fingers curl around the outside of the others and he leans forward, while bringing the fork (daisy's hand and all) to his mouth. He eyes Daisy with a light air of amusement and steals the fruit with his teeth before releasing the others hand and fork. Chewing behind a closed mouth, he watches the other. Then, swallowing, "You'd best eat up then and we'll get a move on."

Daisy's hand jerks lightly when he is touched, like an animal caught in the headlights of a big-rig he just stares, not knowing what to expect. He watches the fruit-thief and hardly hears the words. 'I best eat you up?' He mutters confused.

His mouth slowly curls upwards and he leans in just that hint closer, lowering his head so that he comes eye level with Daisy. "You had best eat the food you just cooked." He clarifies. "But if you're so inclined." Leaning back, his mouth curls that little more until he has a half smirk on his face, obviously amused.

Daisy's eyes hook onto Jacques in a confusion of colour. Lights and darks twine like a candy cane creation. He doesn't care he made a mistake, he smiles. 'I'm sure you'd taste better than my pancake...' he whispers, 'and trust me I'd rather have you on my plate.' And then Daisy does something odd, he ducks away from Jacques and quickly moves to the counter, away from the other, and perches himself atop it, plate on his lap. He's so glad he's wearing jeans.

As Daisy flees, he turns to his coffee and picks it off the bench. Some fruit is plucked up by his fingers in his other hand. "I don't fit on a plate." Mr Obvious states. He takes his time, completely relaxed, eating fruit and drinking coffee as he waits on Daisy to eat. "Sleep well?"

'Then I could eat you off the floor, and if you say I can't 'cuz the floor is dirty then you can keep your comment to yourself!' Daisy pokes fun at him good-naturedly as he shakes his fork at him. 'Yah,' he pops a piece of fruit into his mouth, chews and swallows before continuing, ‘I fell asleep on the couch.

Wisely, he says nothing on the floor or dirty or anything of the sort. There's no doubt he's thinking about those things, with the way his eyes gleam, but he calmly sips the coffee instead. "As long as you slept well." Its good to see Daisy eating, and he keeps an eye on the other, making sure he's not just picking at the food.

Daisy is eating, he's eatten all of the fruit and part of the pancake. 'You sleep well?' He asks in return, hoping he didn't have any of those nasty headaches creeping up on him again.

"Well enough." Pushing off the bench, he unfolds the arm that had been wrapped about his own waist and takes his coffee cup with him out of the kitchen. Its a large open area, even from the bench Daisy can see Jacques at the balcony, where he heads to have a cigarette. "Are you heading in to work tonight?" He calls from where he's sliding open the glass door.

Oh man, the dreaded question...well they knew what trash the other was, may as well nod...so Daisy does, 'Yah.' He doesn't need to say more. He returns to his pancake stuffing his mouth so he won't have to talk.

"We'll get a key cut for the apartment when we're out then." Says the other, apparently not at all bothered as Daisy may have thought. "Just in case I'm not home when you're done." Talk paused as he light his cigarette and slipped the lighter into his pocket. He faced away from the glass to look out over the street.

Daisy swallows down another moutful of food, then licks sweet tasting stains off his lips. 'Does that mean you're lettin' me stay here?' He calls out after the other. That would be a good thing. Living here with Jacques wouldn't be so bad, sure he may not have the privace he wants but he's quite certain the other won't be inside 24-7.

Casting a look over his shoulder and back into the apartment, he called back, "Obviously." Sipping from the coffee in one hand and smoking the cigarette in the other, Jacques basked in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. The sunglasses glinted from on top his head.

He smiles then murmurs softly, 'cool.' So now he's got a place to stay with a cute, even if he's an ice-queen. roomie. He cuts another piece of pancake and brings it to his lips. So now maybe he can call the guest room ¬his¬ room.

Later, when all was cleaned up, food finished and certain men dressed, Jacques took Daisy cruising out through the shopping strips in his luxury coupe. Daisy was not forced to shop in stores that were for tailors slacks or shirts, unless he wanted to go there, but he did end up at male clothing stores. When one of the shop assistants come over to ask if he could help, Jacques waved him off. "No thank you." With a very dismissive sort that probably got the mans hackles raised, but Jacques really didn't give a shit. Taking up several cuts of jeans, he ushered Daisy to the change rooms. "Try these on and show me when you're done."

Daisy sits in the car in a half-pout. Jacques had dragged him out of the apartment hastily, shoving him into the car and mentioning there would be no skirts involved in this spree. When they get to the shop Daisy's walking behind Jacques snarling the corner of his lips the sales-nerd. Silently he takes the jeans and grunts into the changing room. His old Levi's are kicked off and he begins to wriggle himself into a hideously expensive pair of very nice dark blue jeans.  He steps out, arms crossed over his chest and pouts at Jacques.

Not putting up with the pout, he steps closer to Daisy when he comes out all pouty like a friggen girl. Dropping down to a knee, he turns Daisy around by the hips and checks how the jeans fit. This involves a little tugging on material, of smoothing hands across the backside and then a small push back towards the change rooms. "Next pair." He rises back from his knee and steps back to close the door.

Daisy's making lots of little grunting noises when he's turned and adjusted and tugged, none of which are pleasant, pleasing noises. He continues to remain silent even after he's shoved back into the changing room, off to try on a pair of very dark black jeans. He hops as he tries to pull them up over his hips, then he huffs as he buttons them up. They hang deliciously low off his hips, a few too many inches below his belly button where inky tattoo stains reside.

Jacques doesn't even kneel down this time, one look and he has Daisy turning back around again. Apparently he doesn't like those. He doesn't mind the tattoo or even the hips, but he doesn't like the jeans. Daisy really doesn't want to know his opinion on them. He might have a little hissy fit. Next pair, are the type Jacques does like. Those that are faintly faded, classically casual and can look good with anything. These, these have him smirking a little as he makes sure Daisy fits them well. "You need a smaller size." He says, judging the way it doesn't sit on the curve of Daisy's backside and is a little loose around the waist. Lifting his head, he meets Daisy's gaze in the mirror, still kneeling so he's waist height. Long fingers curl around Daisy's hips and the tip of a index finger slides across the skin, tracing the waistband that sits just below them. "I like these."

Daisy hated the black jeans, they looked like something some Emo-harlot would wear on a dare, he knew if he'd sit down in those they might explode or they would come down and his butt would be showing to the world. Sure he showed off his body to the world but he was weird when it came to the way pants looked on him. He's there, in the other pair which...isn't too bad and looks down at Jacques with a sly smile playing on his lush lips. Absentmindedly he bites his lower lip and tugs at the piercing. 'You sure they are Ok, need a bit more tugging?' He's obviously liking Jacques on his knees and he intends to keep him there a bit longer, if he can.

The grin began to form, twitching the corners of his mouth as he suppressed it back. "You tell me. Are they comfortable? Too tight, loose? I think you should go down a size, you've still got room in the back." Jacques doesn't wear jeans tight, so Daisy doesn't have to worry about being subjected to that, but he doesn't go for jeans that are loose either. On the hips is fine, but not on the backside. "If you go down a size are you still going to have room in the front?" In the mirror his gaze slides down, obviously he can't make his own assessment, but thats not for lack of trying. No he doesn't grope, he's far too suave for that.

'Yah, they feel fine.' But what Daisy really wanted to say was ¬your hands feel awesome on me!¬ He is oblivious to the fact that the sales-dorks may be looking their way, or that another couple of people may have entered the shop. 'These ones are comfortable, if they're tighter I'll be suffering.' Shyly he lowers one hand and curves it around a strand of Jacques' hair, it is a touch that lasts a millisecond, it is butterfly faint, and as soon as his hand was there he pulls it away and re-crosses his arms. 'Shall we move to shirts?

Jacques is arrogant enough not to give a second thought to anyone else in the shop. He had watched Daisy's movement in the mirror, tracking the reaching, touching, and withdrawing hand. Gripping Daisy's hips, but using his own thighs, he pulled himself up from where he had been kneeling and stands behind the other. It blocks anyones view of how his thumbs stretch out and smooth along the others back, dipping in to meet at the spine and sweeps back along the waistband, caressing the slight swell that begins the backside. "If you want a shirt, we can. I took you for a printed t.shirt man. Those angst sort." As close as he's standing his voice is quieter and the accent more pronounced because of it. He's still watching Daisy and his own reflection.


The mirror holds two faces and Daisy notes how interesting they look together. In his boy-clothes Daisy is quite nice-looking, yet at the same time he contrasts wildly against the other, one is the prince one the punk. 'I think you'd hate my Ts. One 'o them's got an' explodin' head on it.' His mirror image looks back at him then at Jacques then urges him on whispering ¬do it¬. Slowly cares of if the other's are looking their way begin to slightly disappear. Daisy's right hand moves back a touch, fingers grazing along Jacques' leg.


"No. I don't want you to dress up like me. Those t.shirts suit you." The fabric of his slacks are good quality, pressed, and the line of thigh beneath his solid and warm. Lowering his head, still watching the other from his upturned eyes, he leans his mouth closer to Daisy's ear. He doesn't whisper into it, he's not that close, but does drop his voice to say, "The skirts don't." The grip of his fingers slowly tighten to an appreciative hold that pulls Daisy's hips that fraction back, meeting the tall line of the man standing behind him. Its clear that he likes Daisy in jeans just fine.

'Then let's go buy me some really off-the-wall shirt. There's one I have wanted with little lines along the neck line and real small words under the lines saying ¬cut here¬.' He smirks impishly then shakes his head lightly at the mirror image. 'I'm sorry ya don't like the skirts...if you hate 'em so bad then stay away from the Rabbit.' He closeness is amazing. It's been insanely long since someone's put their hands on Daisy in a ¬good¬ way.

With a gentle nudge, he separates Daisy from his chest and stands upright again. "Don't worry. I will." Tempted to slap the others ass, which he really is fond of in jeans, he doesn't - giving it a brief glance instead as he steps back, letting his hands fall from the other. "Get changed back into the Levi's. Since we're on a deadline, we should move it." The door is closed and Daisy is left in the room by himself again. Outside Jacques goes and fetches two pairs of jeans the same style and takes them up to the counter to finalize the purchase.


He almost salutes but doesn’t, knowing that would tick Jacques off and he may try to bitch him to death in the changing room. Instead he does what he is told to keep the peace; but once alone he sighs and looks at the closed door, then quickly takes the jeans off and gets into his own Levi's. Once dressed he walks to the counter to pay for his own jeans when he sees Jacques already there. 'You're not paying for these,' he whispers as he takes out an old wallet to pay.

"Oh shut up." Hushed under his breath, he turns Daisy around and marches him out the door with the jeans, already purchased, in the bag in his own hand. "Give me directions to this store you saw this oh my god must have shirt at." Jacques is in a decent mood and his teasings come across light and good natured despite his snide tendencies. Daisy most certainly will note that women gush over Jacques. They certainly don't go anywhere unnoticed. Being that his a well dressed man and exceptionally good looking, Daisy really shouldn't be surprised at the looks they get - all of which are ignored.

Daisy does notice the looks and he doesn't like them much, simply for the fact that when he gets looked at it's because someone wants to get into his pants...or skirt, use him, abuse him then toss him away. If those wenches think they're going to do that to Jacques they'll have Daisy-hell to pay. He steps closer to the other as they walk, glaring at the women. 'I'd tol' ya that I was gonna pay for my own stuff...now I friggen owe ya.' He frowns and leads Jacques to the shop. It's not too far so they can walk. But the shop is unlike the other. It's simple and the store clerk is leaning against the counter popping bubble gum and reading a Spiderman comic book. 'Promise me you won't pay for this.' He picks up a black T with white lines and lettering.

"Listen, Daisy." Jacques keeps his voice between the two of them as they're walking. "It is my suggestion to get you a new wardrobe. I'm arrogant, sure. I'm an ass, sure. But I'm not so much of an ass to demand that you get new clothes to please me and pay for them. If I want to see you in other clothes, then I should be paying for them. That is how it works. Don't argue with me." The way he is raised as him always letting Daisy through doorways before himself, opening doors, that sort of thing, and really it has nothing to do with him liking the other, its generally what he does when he's in the company of others. Just the way he was raised. "Besides, I have more money then sense."

He lowers his voice as well, no need for others to hear them. 'Yah well I have more pride then sence,' he says firmly. He may have not been raised like Jacques with manners and wealth, he may not have even be raised with pride but he knew how valuble that was so he went and gone some one day. 'You bought me the jeans, I'm buying the top.' Then before it can turn into a stupid spat he gives Jacques a smile with a lightly tilted head and adds, 'you can buy me a scarf if you want...ok?

After a small inhale of breath, he nods once, slight. Daisy's smile does not soothe anything, but does stop him from arguing points. "Buy your shirt." And while Daisy goes to fetch that, Jacques looks around the store himself, pulling out a few t.shirts and so forth to look over himself. "And try it on." Jacques adds from across the store.

Daisy doesn't want to try it on, he's sure it'll fit but he turns and grumbling to himself he marches into the fitting room. His top is tossed onto the floor, the other one is slipped over his head. 'Come see,' he yells from behind the airy curtain-door.

It gives him just enough time to leave a pile of t.shirts on the counter with his credit card on top with a simple instruction to the gum-chewing cow-clerk to put through the purchase, before he heads to the changing stall that hides Daisy. Opening it enough to peek through, he glanced over the other.

'You approve?' He's standing there with his hands on his hips. The shirt fits him fine, it's not one of those loose ones that makes you look like you have shrunk. It fits him well, curving around him nicely.

Reaching in, he tugs Daisy's hand off his hips so that the arms fall straight and he can see how the shirt fits the shoulders. Then, and only then, does he nod. "Good enough." Which meant he approved. "Was that all you wanted?" Maybe he was talking about the clothes. He probably was.

Daisy's not a big fan of shopping and it's starting to show that he's getting fussy. 'Yah, that's it.' He looks at his droopy hands then back up to Jacques. 'Is that how they handle you when you're modeling?' He asks with gentle concern.

He considers it for a moment, "I'll take you to a shoot one day. You can see for yourself." Pausing, he adds, "If you'd like." Jacques is becoming a little more aware with how he's speaking around Daisy. Its a sure sign that he gives as shit about the others sensibilities, but Daisy doesn't know him well enough to even notice how he was to how he is being. Jacques sister would have something delicious to poke her brother with if she witnessed these little exchanges.

For that Jacques is gifted a fairy-smile and a shy, yet flirty bat of long, black lashes. 'Hell, yah. I'd like that.' Would he ever! Seeing Jacques in action would be a treat. A surge of happiness trickles though him, maybe Jacques is trying to open that freezer door slowly...one can only wonder.

Chuckling quietly at Daisy's reaction, he raises his eyebrow with a smirking smile. "You just want to see me naked between changes." Apparently he wasn't moving from where he was standing half in and half out of the curtain, which was still drawn mostly shut and held in place by his clinging fingers. No one was peeking in. For all they knew Daisy could be doing all sorts of lewd things.

Of course he's love to see Jacques naked and he was sure that Jacques' senced that and that just made him blush. 'Naaaaw....' he drags and looks at Jacques' fingers to avoid his gaze,'I'd look away,' then he adds in a very soft whisper, 'promise.

"Liar." Grinning, and sure that he's given the clerk enough time to put through his sales purchase, he stepped out from the curtain and closed it over again. Returning to fetch his card, which is placed back into the wallet and his pocket, he tucks the new purchases, bag and all, into the other stores bag. Daisy may buy that one shirt he wanted, but Jacques damn well will buy the other what he wants to.

It's a good thing Jacques was sneaky about buying the other Ts because Daisy would have some sort of fit in the shop if he knew. When he's changed back into his own simple top he tugs the curtain open, the metallic rings made some annoying metallic sound. He pays for his top then walks up to Jacques. 'Are you gonna put me though more torture?

"I was thinking shoes." He says, exiting the store with the other. "Is there any that you need? Not for work either." Jacques tended to like leather loafers. Simple, practical and stylish. He also had trainers and flops at home, and certainly had good polished shoes for suits and tie events.

'I got my boots, I think you saw 'em,' big, black and chunky, 'and these,' he points down to a pair of well-worn, once-white trainers. 'That's all the ¬boy¬ shoes I've got...what else do I need?' He asks as if saying ¬ I don't keed anymore shoes¬!

After glancing down to Daisy's current footwear and hearing all the boys shoes that the other apparently has, the decision is quite simple. "Shoe store." It wasn't all that hard to find and Daisy would find himself sitting in a chair while Jacques spoke with the clerk going through different shoe designs. The shoes would be good quality, none of these cheap franchise stores. Casual leather loafers in a dark gray almost black, complete with leather trims - but they are not grumpa shoes, no they are modern style loafers with the thick sole and almost slip-on sneaker style. A pair of new trainers and a new pair of boots, black, tie up almost army style. "I want a pair of flops too." Indicating a simple pair, he didn't care what ones really, they were for wearing around instead of wlaking bare foot.


And once again Daisy is sat in the store, arms crossed, scowling beautifully. 'Just wait till I get you home, mister...' he whisper-grumps when Jacques is almost out of earshot, but said purposely so that he can hear it. Daisy, right now, it like a caterpillar trying to fit into a pair of wings that are one size too small.


Daisy's protests were ignored. Not by giving a cold shoulder but at the end of the day he was getting a new wardrobe and would just deal with it. No doubt the drive home was silence or something of the kind. But if it was, it was because Daisy was still upset with the whole turn of events and Jacques wasn't taking the bait. If nothing drastic happened, they would end up back at the apartment with Daisy's bed full of new belongings (including the bag of t.shirts), and left Jacques chain smoking on the balcony, where he had escaped the others foul mood.

Daisy's fussy,bored, I-don't-need-more-clothes mood slowly vanishes in the car. He looks over his shoulder at the zillion bags and chuckles. 'Lola's have a shit-fit if she saw all those bags!' He reaches forn one bag and pulls out a pair of jeans. With a smile os contentment he sets them of his lap and they drive in silence home.

With improved moods, Jacques dares to mention. "We'll get you some jackets and hoodies. You can swap and change. Most of what we got today you can wear in different combinations and can't go wrong. Even with the shoes." This is said as he returns to the room where Daisy is, lounge, bedroom.

For that Daisy begins to groan as he falls like a ton of bricks, on his back, on the bed. 'Noooo....no more clothes, Jackie, spare me!' He brings his hands to his face in a mock drama queen moan. Slowly he peeks though his eyes and huffs.'Anyway though, thanks for the jeans an' all...' he still hasn't poked though his bag to find the other T-shirts. 'Hey, uh...I gotta get ready for work and all...' he rises heavily.

"You can't have half outfits. Some jackets won't hurt. But since I know your build well enough, I can buy them without your permission. If you're not going to work with me, well... you leave me no other option." Quirking his mouth up at the corner, he watches for the response. Work. Right. Skirts. Ugh. "And you're welcome." With an actual smile he retreats from the bedroom for the main room.

As he walks out Daisy sticks out his tongue playfully, he knows Jacques will come home one day with a bag full of boy stuff that he'll have to wear...weirdness! When the door closes jeans are stripped out of and kicked onto the floor, he grabs his top and pulls if off, that too follows the same path. Running his fingers though his hair he takes a deep breath and begins to dress. He'll emerge shortly later looking like a prostitute. A black ballerinaish frilly skirt with reddish tule under it hugs his hips, it's so short its almost non existent. In his legs are a pair of black socks that end just under the skirt, showing off a sliver of pale, hairless skin. Those chunky boots he was talking about are on his feet. His trademark scarf is around his neck partially hiding a black tank top. His face has been made up, teal eye shadow, thick black eyeliner and white mascara. He grabs his jacket and looks at Jacques. 'I'll be back around one.' There's a uncomfortableness in his tone as he looks away from Jacques, not able to meet his gaze.

Jacques rises from the sofa the moment he notices the way Daisy is avoiding his gaze. He doesn't like that shame or embarrassment on there. There's no need for it. Plenty of other reasons make his stomach clench tight in a knot. The key that he'd been turning over and over in his fingers is offered out to the other, older man. "Have a good night." When Daisy reaches for the key, he continues to hold it, halting the others flee from the apartment. Jacques touches Daisy's chin, lifting it up. He kisses the others cheek and taps under the chin gently. "Chin up, Daisy."

He reaches for the key but is suddenly held back. His made-up eyes snap up to Jacques'. The metal feels warm yet harsh under the balls of his fingertips. 'Good night, Jacques...' a whisper. He knows that today he may hate being at the Rabbit. His eye-lids flutter, closing half-way at the show off affection. 'Always,' is his reply, and then he tugs at the key until it is his and walks out the door. On his way down he cannot help but allow his fingers to move to his cheek and touch the spot where Jacques' lips met his skin. Yes, tonight it was going to be rough up on that stage...