Chapter Text
The sun had already dipped low by the time Builderman pulled up outside the house. The sky still held that deep evening blue that came right after sunset, the last traces of orange fading along the horizon. The neighborhood was quiet—just the occasional passing car and the distant chirp of crickets starting up for the night.
Builderman shut off the engine and sat there for a second. Then he stretched. Not just a casual stretch either—one of those full, stiff, road-trip stretches where your whole back cracks a little and your shoulders finally loosen after hours of sitting. “Whew,” he muttered under his breath, rolling one shoulder and then the other. “That drive about did me in.”
He pushed the car door open and stepped out, boots hitting the driveway with a soft thud. The cool evening air felt good after the long ride, and he stood there a moment longer just breathing it in before grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. The porch light flicked on just as he reached the steps.
Builderman chuckled softly to himself. “Well now,” he said quietly, glancing up toward the door, “ain’t that some timing.” He hadn’t even made it to the top step before the front door swung open.
Shedletsky was already standing there, leaning against the frame like he’d been waiting. His arms were crossed and he had that familiar crooked grin on his face. “Took you long enough.”
Builderman stopped halfway up the porch and let out a short laugh. “Well now hold on a second,” he said, adjusting the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “I left when I said I would.”
Shed raised an eyebrow.
Builderman climbed the rest of the steps, shaking his head with a tired smile. “Traffic was backed up halfway down the highway,” he continued. “Swear every car in the county decided to be out there today.”
“Sure it was,” Shed replied immediately.
Builderman snorted. “You callin’ me a liar?”
“Absolutely.”
Builderman stepped inside anyway, brushing past him into the house with a quiet chuckle. “Well that’s just hurtful,” he said.
The warmth inside the house hit him almost immediately. After the cool evening air outside, the place felt cozy in that comfortable lived-in way. There was a faint smell of dinner lingering somewhere in the air, mixed with coffee and something sweet.
Builderman inhaled slowly and nodded approvingly. “Well shoot,” he said. “Smells like y’all been eatin’ good.”
From the kitchen, Shedletsky’s wife leaned around the corner and waved. “Hey! You made it!”
Builderman raised a hand in greeting. “Evenin’, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Guest room’s full tonight, so we cleared the attic again!”
Builderman tipped his head politely. “Much obliged,” he said. “I promise I ain’t much picky ‘bout where I sleep.”
Shed shut the door behind him. “Good,” he said. “Because the attic definitely isn’t fancy.”
Builderman gave a quiet laugh. “After that drive?” he said. “I could sleep on a pile of bricks right about now.”
Shed jerked a thumb toward the stairs. “C’mon then. I’ll show you where you’re crashing.”
The attic stairs creaked softly as they climbed. The house had that familiar older-wood sound to it—the kind where every step gave a little groan or pop underfoot. Builderman followed a step behind Shed, one hand lightly brushing the railing as they went.
At the top of the stairs, Shed pushed the door open and flicked on the light. The attic brightened with a soft buzz from the overhead bulb. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable enough.
A thick support beam ran across the slanted ceiling, low enough that Builderman instinctively ducked a little when he walked under it. A few dusty storage boxes sat stacked against the far wall. The small window near the roof let in a thin slice of dark blue evening sky. And in the middle of the floor an air mattress.
Builderman stepped inside, setting his bag down beside it with a soft thump. He looked the thing over carefully.
Shed walked in behind him and gave the mattress a light kick with the side of his foot.
“Freshly inflated.”
Builderman raised an eyebrow slowly. “Oh now that confidence worries me.”
Shed shrugged. “It’ll hold.” He paused. “…Probably.”
Builderman looked at him for a second. Then he snorted. “Well that’s reassuring.” He crouched down and pressed a hand lightly against the mattress. The vinyl dipped under his palm with a quiet squeak, the air shifting inside it.
“Mmh,” Builderman hummed thoughtfully. “Seems alright.”
“See?” Shed said.
Builderman looked up at him. “Still sayin’ that ‘probably’ part ain’t exactly comfortin’.”
Shed grinned, “You’ll survive.”
Builderman straightened again and stretched his arms over his head, his back popping once more. “If this thing collapses on me in the middle of the night,” he said, “I’m blamin’ you personally.”
“That’s fair.”
They didn’t go to bed right away. In fact, Builderman barely stayed in the attic five minutes before they both wandered back downstairs again. One conversation led to another, which led to snacks appearing on the coffee table, which somehow turned into them sitting around talking for hours.
Builderman leaned back into the couch cushions with a content sigh. “Man,” he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, “every time we get talkin’ it turns into a whole evening.”
Shed tossed a chip into his mouth. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
Builderman chuckled, “Nah. Just means we got a lotta non-work nonsense to catch up on.”
They ended up arguing about some ridiculous internet drama for a while after that. Builderman gestured animatedly at one point while making a point, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.
Shed caught the cup just in time. “Careful there.”
Builderman laughed, “I’m just passionate about my bad opinions.”
Eventually though, the clock crept past midnight. Builderman rubbed his eyes and yawned wide enough that his jaw popped. “Well,” he said slowly, pushing himself up from the couch with a tired grunt, “I reckon I’m callin’ it.”
Shed looked up from his phone. “Finally.”
Builderman stretched his arms overhead again. “Drive caught up with me.”
“No kidding,” Shed said. “You were halfway asleep ten minutes ago.”
Builderman rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I absolutely was, weren’t I.”
By the time Builderman climbed the attic stairs again, the house had gone quiet. The lights downstairs were mostly off now, and the only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house settling. He checked the time on his phone. 12:14 AM. “Alright,” he muttered quietly to himself. “That’s late enough.”
He kicked his bag closer beside the mattress and tugged his sweatshirt down a little before sitting on the edge of the air mattress. The vinyl creaked under his weight. Builderman bounced slightly once just to test it. The mattress shifted with a soft whoosh as the air redistributed inside.
“Mmh,” he murmured. “Still holdin’. That’s a good sign.” He swung his legs up and stretched out onto his back. The mattress dipped slightly under him before settling. Builderman let out a long, satisfied sigh. He folded his hands loosely over his stomach and stared up at the slanted attic ceiling. “That ain’t half bad.”
The attic was quiet. Peaceful in that late-night way where the whole house felt still. The faint hum of appliances downstairs. The occasional soft creak of wood adjusting to the cooler air outside.
Builderman shifted once, getting comfortable, and after that his breathing slowly evened out.
Within minutes he was asleep.