Chapter Text
I (a door) you
Chapter 1
Jemma is about to put the milk back in the fridge when it happens.
It’s Saturday night. She was supposed to go out with Daisy tonight, but she pretended to feel a little sick to get out of it because all she really wants to do after an entire hell of a week at her new job is relax and watch Doctor Who all night in her comfiest PJs. She’s in the middle of a season 5 rewatch – yes, she has a little crush on Matt Smith and/or Karen Gillan, so what – and she’s paused the episode for tea and maybe a couple of cookies too because it is Saturday night after all, blissfully thinking that nothing much more interesting would happen to her that night.
But boy, is she wrong.
The three knocks on her front door are so sudden and so loud she actually jumps, grabbing the fridge’s door in surprise. She starts in shock, not expecting anyone at 10pm on a Saturday night – Daisy never mentioned checking in, and she’s the only person she really knows around here anyway – and stands still for a few seconds, listening intently and wondering if maybe she misheard or something.
But then the knocking starts again, even louder, and she jumps again, cursing herself. She hurriedly puts the milk back in the fridge, then slowly walks to the front door, heart beating fast in her chest. She’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to do. The door is locked, so whoever is behind it can’t hurt her – no matter how angry their knocks sound – but she’s also not sure how they managed to get through the lobby since you need a key to enter in the first place. This is slightly worrying, isn’t it? Should she call the police? Maybe she’s getting ahead of herself, she probably needs to check if it’s not someone she knows first.
Shaking her head at herself, she silently walks to the door and peeks through the peephole to try and see if she knows the person, but just as she does, they start knocking furiously again, and she jumps back with a shriek before she even gets the chance to see anything. Her heart is absolutely pounding now, and she’s opening her mouth to tell whoever is behind her door to go away, but then the person starts talking on the other side and she stills in surprise.
“Hunter! Hunter open your bloody door you wanker!”
From that colorful phrase she now knows two things: first, this is probably a got-the-wrong-door type of situation, and second, the man knocking at her door is unmistakably Scottish. Which is definitely not something she could have expected at all, because it’s not often that she gets to meet a fellow British person around here. There’s something reassuring about his accent, she’s not entirely sure what, or maybe it’s his voice that doesn’t sound as aggressive as his knocks. In any case, she decides to unlock her door and open it a little to peek outside. The man was about to knock again apparently, and he stumbles forward a little as she does, looking up and gaping in surprise as their eyes meet.
Her heart leaps in her chest for some reason. The man in front of her seems to be about her age, slightly taller than her, with a mop of curly hair and bright blue eyes that seem to stare deep into her soul – or something. In any case, he is very cute. Which, obviously, is not important right now, at all, ahem.
“Y-you’re not Hunter,” he stammers after a few seconds of silence, cheeks a little pink, and she bites her lip in amusement at the obvious embarrassment on his face. She shakes her head a little and his gaze turns horrified, and he’s definitely blushing now, which she finds cute, again, but that’s not important. “I’m so sorry,” he says, reaching towards her then apparently thinking better of it and wringing his hands instead. “I’m, I mean, this, this is not apartment B16 then?”
“B17,” she responds with a grin, wondering why her cheeks feel a little hot now, “B16 is over there, right across the hall.”
“R-right,” he nods once, taking a step back. He crosses his arms for half a second, then drops them back at his side, and she has a hard time not chuckling at how adorable he looks – which is a weird thing to think about a stranger, but oh well. “Well I’m, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, please blame Hunter it’s all his fault.”
She chuckles without thinking, and the surprised and pleased look he gives her makes her heart jump in her chest, again. “I’m actually new here,” she tells him, and she’s not even sure why she does at this point, “so I haven’t met this Hunter you’re talking about yet but… I’ll keep that in mind.”
She’s grinning at him by the end of her sentence, and a very tiny part of herself that sounds a lot like Daisy loudly wonders if she’s not trying to flirt with the very cute guy who accidentally knocked on her door on a Saturday night. But this is obviously preposterous, and very unlike her, so no, she’s not trying to flirt at all. She couldn’t flirt even if her life depended on it anyway, so there’s that.
The cute Scot gives her a tentative smile, sliding his hands in his pockets. “Good,” he nods again, shifting on his feet a little, and she’s relieved to notice that she isn’t the only awkward one around here. “He’s not so bad when you know him, although he can be a little daft some–”
“OI!”
The indignant cry makes them both jump in surprise, and is followed by a door opening across the hall, revealing the tenant of apartment B16. He steps in the hallway with his hands on his hips, looking piqued. In retrospective Jemma thinks she’s seen him before, his buzz-cut, stubble and clear eyes looking a little familiar, although she’s not quite sure when.
“Not cool mate,” the man – Hunter, she figures – tells his friend with a frown, “why you talking shit about me to the cute neighbor!”
Jemma frowns a little, feeling her cheeks warm up at that, and when she glances at the cute Scot, she sees he’s blushing too. Their eyes meet for a second then they both look away at the same time, and she only looks up when Hunter makes a small noise of surprise. His eyes are going from her to his friend, like he’s following a ping-pong match, and his lips slowly stretch into a slightly triumphant smirk.
“Anyway,” he says after a few seconds, “there’s beer in the fridge and we’re waiting for you to start the game, so…” he trails off a little, eyeing his friend with a look Jemma can’t quite decipher, then adds cheekily: “Yeah, whenever you’re done flirting with my neighbor!”
“That’s not– hey!” the cute Scot starts indignantly, but Hunter slams the door before he can say much more, and he turns to her with very pink cheeks and an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, see I told you he was the worst.”
“That’s okay,” she chuckles and shakes her head, biting her lip again, and she’s almost sure his blue eyes glance down at her lips for a split second. They stare at each other for a moment in silence, then he scratches behind his ear with yet another cute, shy smile.
“I’m not gonna bother you any longer, I’m sorry again for knocking on your door like that, that was–”
“Oh it’s fine really–”
“We’re just having beers between friends, but please if we’re too loud feel free to knock and tell us, I’ll make sure Hunter shuts up.”
She chuckles again, and he looks very pleased – and ugh, so cute. “Alright,” she nods, and smiles, and he smiles back, “have a good night then.”
“Right, yes, you too.”
“Thank you.”
He nods one last time, walking backwards to Hunter’s apartment, and she reluctantly closes her own door when he turns to knock on his friend’s. She leans against the wood panel, smiling to herself for a little while, then shakes her head a little and gets back to her Doctor Who episodes. She debates with herself for a while telling Daisy about her impromptu encounter, but then again there’s a small part of her that wonders – and kind of wishes too – if she’s ever going to see him again, and she doesn’t want Daisy to know about it if there is a slight chance she might talk to him again some day.
Maybe it doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what she’s going with, apparently.
Keeping the cute Scot to herself for now. And hoping he visits his friend Hunter very often.