Work Text:
The doorbell startled you out of your thoughts, it had been a long day at work, and for some reason it was easier to zone out while washing yesterday’s dishes than it was to address your stress from work. A quick glance at your phone, and you smile—tonight’s dinner was earlier than expected. You open the door to see, not an uber eats delivery person, but your next-door neighbor. One Beau Simpson. He’s halfway off the stoop when you open the door, and he turns, a sheepish look on his face.
“Sorry to disturb you.” His voice is low and quiet, and God, you could listen to him speak all day.
“You’re just interrupting a hot date with Thai food and Netflix.”
“Ah, I’ll go then…” He pauses and turns to look at you once your words register. “Speaking of dinner.” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “You already have plans. My apologies.”
“Beau, would you like to come in?” You open the door a bit wider. You had moved in next door a few months ago, and after your dog had dug up his tulips, and a shaky introduction, the two of you had become fast friends. Even if you wondered what it would take to make that well put together man to fall apart.
He steps inside, and you close the door behind him. “I’m sorry I’m usually more articulate than this.”
Oh no, he’s cute. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks and he’s decidedly not looking at you. “It’s alright. I can carry a conversation until the food comes, and then there’s a built-in thing to talk about.” He follows you into the kitchen, a few steps behind you. He’s in jeans and a cream sweater that’s just a little too big for his frame, but when he pushes up the sleeves you find yourself distracted once more.
You chat about work, sharing office gossip, filling him in on the latest scandals, and sharing a bit of the projects you’re working on. You smile, seeing that he’s listening, keeping up with the convoluted stories you tell him. Beau takes the bottle of wine from you, opening it, pouring two glasses, handing one to you. The doorbell rings again, and you trot down the hallway, voice rising as you go retrieve the food.
“Now, there’s no judgement for the amount of food I ordered.” You put the bags on the island. Beau starts opening them, and you grab chopsticks from a drawer, offering him a set. It’s comfortable and easy the two of you sharing food in the kitchen. He’s on one side of the island, you’re on the other and he's relaxed enough to share about his work. Granted, he couldn’t get overly detailed with his stories, but what he did tell you was exhilarating.
“You’re honestly telling me, one of these elite fighter pilots stole a pair of boxers from a fellow fighter pilot and ran them up the flagpole. And they had little roosters printed on them?” You’re laughing, and he's chuckling softly.
“His call sign is Rooster, so I’m assuming they found it fitting.”
“So, what’s your call sign, Admiral?”
“Cyclone.”
You could picture him when he was younger, full of spitfire and unbridled talent. There were glimpses of it, when he was playing football with his nephews. He wasn’t any less impressive now, older, a bit more reserved. If you squinted under the right light, you could see the younger man still there, just under the surface. “That sounds like trouble.”
He shakes his head, his smile easy, eyes mischievous. “Not at all. Perfect example of Navy discipline.”
“You are absolutely trouble; I feel it in my bones.” You can’t help but tease, liking the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. “What brings you over, Admiral, other than sharing pad see ew?”
“It’s Friday night, and we’re both home. Seemingly without plans.”
“I had a date,” you tease, “which you crashed. I have a very serious commitment with my Netflix queue.”
“There’s a night market, a farmer’s market type of thing.”
You watch, eyebrow arched as he picks at his nails. “The Bell Fest, right?” The fliers had been posted all over town. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”
“I do like to have fun.” He says. “I’m unable to go home this year, and my family and I’ve gone to the same one for years.” Beau clears his throat, “I was hoping that you’d be interested in going.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“I’m asking you to join me to the Bell Fest.” He says.
You hide your smile, sealing up the boxes of food, putting them in the fridge. “Well, we can’t miss with tradition, can we?” You close the refrigerator door, turning back to him. “You’re driving though.”
One of the city parks had been transformed into a winter wonderland, lit up by hundreds of strands of Christmas lights. Decorated trees, food trucks, vendors selling holiday wares, and holiday music pumped through speakers completed the atmosphere. Beau never rushed you as you drifted from booth to booth, wordlessly holding your bags as you found presents to give to friends and family.
“That is pretty.” His words brush against the shell of your ear. Beau is at your back, leaning over you to look at a necklace that caught your eye. A starburst pendant hung on a delicate chain, pretty, feminine. “You know there’s no rules about buying things for yourself.”
“I like giving gifts more.” You turn your head slightly, and he’s right there. You can smell his aftershave, the peppermint on his breath, the warmth from his body. It would take just centimeters to close the space between your mouths, and you step away.
“There’s a light maze!” You say, trying to ignore the pounding in your heart. “Do you want to try it? Tickets are on me.”
Beau studies you, a small smile on his features. “I’ll go put these in the car. Give me a few minutes.”
You nod, flashing a grin of your own in his direction before you’re heading to join the line for tickets. The maze is made up of towering evergreens strung with clear Christmas lights, and from the map you’re given in the center is a place to take photos. “All set?” You ask when Beau joins you again.
“I don’t see how this is easy.” You mutter when the two of you are faced with another dead end. “Your turn to navigate, Admiral.”
Beau takes the map, tracing over where you’ve been, looking up as though he can see through the walls of the maze. “This way.”
After a couple false starts, the two of you make your way to the center of the maze. Grasping his arm, you stare in wonder, a soft gasp falling from your mouth. An arch of lights stands, surrounded by poinsettias and piles of fake snow. You look up at him, seeing the twinkle of the lights reflected in his eyes.
“Would you like a complimentary photo?” An attendant dressed as an elf approaches you.
“Shall we?” Beau stops halfway down the path to the arch, turning to you offering his hand. You pass your phone over to the employee before taking his hand. Beau pulls you to his side, hold light, but you pressed a little closer. “Send that to me?” He asks once the elf returns your phone.
Time gets away from you, and before you know it, the two of you are side by side in the car. He pulls into his driveway, and you look at his profile, drinking in the play of light and shadows on his face. “Thank you.”
“It was fun.” Beau says, before he’s exiting the car. He comes around to your side, opening your door. “Thank you for indulging me.”
“I mean Netflix is an old standby, I’m getting a little bored with it to be honest.” You take the packages and bags from him with a grin. “It’s not often that I get to observe the traditions of the mysterious man who I live next door to.”
Beau laughs softly, and it’s a sound that you want to bottle up to keep on a shelf forever. “It’s late, I’ll make sure you get inside.”
“Goodnight.” You say, walking across the lawn to your own property. You unlock the door, flicking the porch lights on and off twice after you lock the door. Carefully your purchases on the table by the door, toeing off your shoes as your dog dances and weaves between your legs.
“I know, I know, you need to potty.” You mutter patting her head. When you straighten there’s a heaviness in your jacket pocket. “Come on, baby girl.” You call to the dog, walking down the hallway, pulling a small cardboard envelope from your pocket.
Written on the outside in neat, crisp lettering “sorry for ruining your date. –Beau.” Your fingers shake as you open the parcel, finding the necklace that you had admired. His phone number is written on the inside flap of the package.
You snap a photo, making sure the necklace is on display, sending it to him in a message. “If you’re not busy next Friday, drinks? I think Netflix just dumped me.”
/end