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From his vantage point at the kitchen window, Armitage could see most of his neighbor’s yard. It was risk free for him, since his cafe curtains - cream colored linen with a delightfully cheery print of lemons and leaves upon it - were opaque enough for him to remain concealed whilst covertly observing the goings-on.
“Such a cliche,” he muttered to himself. “Crushing on the boy next door.”
He smiled, realizing ‘boy’ was altogether the wrong word. The tall, solidly built, gorgeous hunk of man next door just didn’t roll off the tongue as well.
As if summoned by thoughts of him, the back door of the home Armitage was watching opened, and out he walked. Ben Solo. The late morning sunlight cast a halo around his form as he stepped onto his deck, coffee mug in hand.
Armitage felt himself biting at his lower lip and raising up on his toes to get slightly closer to the window. He looked forward to this every Saturday… peering out his curtains like a creep at the beautiful man who liked to take his coffee on the deck, despite the fall mornings becoming cooler.
Ben tossed his head, shaking long strands of dark hair away from his eyes. He exhaled, watching the moisture of his breath condense and form a fog-like cloud in the air before him. Slowly he bent forward, until his forearms could rest on the railing of the deck. Ben slowly panned his gaze across his yard, and kept turning until he was looking at Armitage’s house next door.
Armitage held his breath, unsure if he feared being seen, or was excited by the notion of it. He felt as if he and Ben had locked gazes, although he was sure he was hidden.
After a few long moments Ben closed his eyes, and tipped his chin to his chest. His shoulders slumped a little. He looked … defeated somehow, and Armitage was shocked by the twist in his gut in response to it.
Ben pushed off from the railing and walked back inside. Armitage exhaled as the door clicked shut.
<<>>
That evening, Armitage could not sleep. As he stared up at the ceiling, he grew increasingly annoyed at himself for not making a move toward getting to know his handsome neighbor. He had wasted the entire summer just watching from the window.
It had been the end of a chilly spring when Ben had moved in. Armitage could recall the details easily. He had come home from a busy work day to find his driveway blocked by the extended ramp of a moving truck.
Scowling, he street parked his sensible sedan and got out, prepared to deliver a tongue lashing to the ignoramus who dared make him sixty seconds later getting to his front door. As he grabbed his briefcase from the backseat, he brushed an imaginary wrinkle from his dark charcoal suit. He readied his ‘high powered VP of Sales is angry’ face, and turned.
“Ohhh. Hi. I blocked you, man, sorry.” A deep, sonorous voice said.
Armitage stood dumbstruck for a moment, his anger quickly evaporating as he found himself looking into the most exquisite dark eyes he had ever seen. They crinkled at the corners in the most delightful way as their owner smiled and extended his hand.
“I’m Ben, and I really am sorry about the dick move blocking your driveway. Guess I rented too big a truck to move with. We’re neighbors, huh?”
Armitage mechanically stuck his hand into Ben’s and nearly gasped as it was engulfed by the other man’s massive one. He surreptitiously tried to feel for a wedding ring on Ben’s finger, unable to break eye contact with his new neighbor.
Ben was wearing a faded T-shirt with the logo of some ancient sci-fi movie on it, and baggy basketball shorts. His dark hair was in a tail at the back of his head, and Armitage could tell it would sweep the tops of his shoulders when down. An unbidden question of what it might feel like to run his hands through that hair popped into his mind.
Ben smiled even wider, gently squeezed the hand he was still holding, and asked “do I have to guess your name? I’m pretty bad at that sort of thing, we’d be here a while.”
Armitage blinked, trying to summon his voice.
“I...Ahhhhhmmm...Armitage. Armitage Hux, pleasure to meet you.”
He pumped Ben’s hand once, in the worst imitation of a handshake ever, and pulled his own hand free. He could feel sweat on his palm...what a marvelous impression he must be making.
“Well Ben, I have some work to finish up so I must take my leave now. No problem at all about the driveway, welcome to the neighborhood.” He could feel the color rising in his cheeks as he strode quickly away. His pulse thundered in his ears as he fumbled the keys - twice, oh gods! - before opening his front door and escaping inside.
He had run away too quickly, and missed the way confusion had flooded Ben’s face.
Armitage shook himself from the reverie. Months had passed, and he still hadn’t gotten the courage up to do more than wave if they happened to be outside at the same time.
Sometime in July, he had come up with a plan. He mowed Ben’s lawn while Ben was out one weeknight, figuring this would force Ben to come by to thank him, and they could have a friendly chat. Armitage could then casually suggest dinner, or at least invite him in for drinks, and who knows where the night may lead.
Unfortunately what happened instead was Ben returning the favor - with the additional touch of trimming the hedges - the following Sunday while Armitage was out. And so began an escalating ‘battle of favors’, wherein they both continued to service each other’s yards without ever speaking or acknowledging what was happening.
When Armitage had built a small brick enclosure around the base of the oak tree in Ben’s front yard, then planted hostas in the ring, it occurred to him perhaps this was getting out of hand. They both now had the most well kept yards on the street, yet no cozy dinners or even half assed conversations had come of it.
Lying in his bed, Armitage gave himself a verbal rebuke. With most things he had no problem going after what he wanted. Why should this be different?
“That is enough, Armitage S Hux. You are better than this. You’re a condor, for heaven sake. Lift your head, spread your wings and speak to that boy. He has nothing over you, just because he’s tall and dark and smelled awesome that first day and he makes your knees weak.”
Decision to get on with things made, he rolled up into his blankets and went to sleep.
<<>>
Decisions made in the dark do not always stand up to the light of day. Armitage waffled back and forth while showering, drying his hair, brushing his teeth, and did not settle on action until he was dressing.
It was Sunday, and often Armitage would go for coffee at the little indie shop in town on Sundays. A plan coalesced as he tugged on a pair of jeans.
It would either work, or he’d look a fool. Either way, it was time for something to give.
<<>>
He exhaled a long breath, then rapped his knuckles on the door. Etiquette said one should knock, wait fifteen seconds, then knock once more. Armitage began counting in his head.
One....two...three...
The door flew open and there he was. Ben was already smiling widely, half out his own front door.
“Hi neighbor!!”
Armitage cleared his throat softly, and began his rehearsed speech.
“Good morning Ben, I haven’t been very neighborly and I thought I should rectify that...”
“Not neighborly, oh my god. I assume you did the hostas around my tree, and not some local garden gnome? You’re like...the best neighbor!”
Armitage flushed, and tried to resume his place in his monologue.
“Well, I am glad you like it, it is low maintenance and I thought that might be good...”
“I smell pumpkin spice. Is that for me? Us?” Ben pointed at the two tall coffees in the carrier in Armitage’s hand. “What’s in the bag?”
“Umm. It is for you. Or us, rather. And the bag is pastries, I wasn’t sure what you liked...”
Ben opened the door wide, and gestured.
“Come on in! This is perfect, I have been hoping to actually get to know you. I was going to ask you out for dinner, but you beat me to it.”
“Nonsense, this is breakfast. We will still need dinner later.” Armitage cast a coy look at Ben as he passed over the threshold into the hall.
Ben grinned, a hint of blush creeping up his cheeks and to his ears.
“I can do that. I hope there are extra pastries in there. Who knows where the evening might lead and if we will need breakfast tomorrow.”
Ben waggled his brows as he closed the door and pointed the way to the kitchen.