Chapter Text
It was a day like any other.
You had a long day at work, so you stopped by your favorite bar for something alcoholic and fruity as a little treat. Life was too short not to indulge in something to brighten your spirits every now and then, even if it took a good bit of your paycheck. Finding a job with a good wage had always been a struggle for you. No one wanted someone like you in their employment aside from claiming a diversity hire. What a joke.
Still, you persist. You love your job, a nice little office tucked away doing data entry work. It required no physical labor and only part time work throughout the week, just enough for you to afford the apartment you shared with a childhood friend.
You were often asked if you ever wanted something full time, if you ever wanted more money to move out and live by yourself. But living by yourself is a luxury you don't have. What happens when the day is too hard, and you're hit with a flare up? When you're too weak to cook, to shower, to even get out of bed? The idea of being alone was terrifying.
You'll stick to your 3 days a week, 6 hour shifts, thank you very much.
You stepped off the bus and walked up to your favorite bar. It was your favorite because it played quiet jazz, the lights were nice and dim, and they had excellent food and drinks. It was a nice place to wind down.
You waited for the automatic door to hiss open before you stepped inside. Another good reason you liked this place; it had automatic doors and no stairs! Thank the stars. You used to be able to handle stairs, but that was a good few years ago now.
Sitting down in your favorite spot at the bar, you leaned your cane against the counter to free up your hands while you waved down the bartender to place your order. Just after you finished, someone came in and sat down nearby, and you could practically see the storm clouds over his head. He was dressed in all black, which made his ginger hair stick out even more. He was human, like you.
Should you say something?
Your drink arrived and you swirled your straw through it. It was pink and glittery, with bursting pearls at the bottom filled with fruit juice. It was your favorite drink in the world, fun and colorful so it always made you feel instantly better. You wanted to make this stranger feel better, too.
You took a sip and then cleared your throat, making sure your voice would be clear when you spoke.
“Hey,” you called over to the stranger a couple seats down. “Long day?”
He glanced at you, frowned, then glared back down at the drink menu he was handed. He was oddly beautiful when he frowned. He was a handsome stranger, if anything, and it did make you nervous to try again, but you weren't so easily spooked off. Not when you've been craving any kind of contact outside of your roommate for ages.
“I can recommend a drink for you,” you added, watching him squint at the menu. “Are you from around here? I can explain what the-”
“Stop,” the stranger cut you off harshly.
You shut up immediately, crushed at the rejection.
“Fine. Be that way, asshole,” you snapped back.
The stranger stood and walked around the bar stools to stand right beside you, sliding the menu across the bar until it was laying in front of you.
“To read,” he commanded.
“To read…?” You repeated, squinting in confusion. “What are you…”
“To read,” he confirmed, and this time you watched his mouth form the words he was speaking.
“Oh! Oh, I have a translator implanted,” you explained. “Are you trying to speak this planet's common? It's messing up on my end, just speak your native tongue.”
“Oh.”
Wow, his tone completely changed.
“I didn't know you had a translator.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I'm unfamiliar with this planet.”
“Not everyone has one,” you clarified. “But most people in this district do, since it’s more diverse, what with travellers and all. I assume you're a traveller too?”
“...Sure.”
“Well, then, welcome to the planet, then!”
You held out your hand, and the stranger hesitated for a moment before he took your hand, giving it a firm, formal shake. His leather gloves were nice, you noted.
“I'm Y/N.”
“...Armitage,” the stranger answered after a moment, pulling his hand back. He glanced around like he was looking for something, then returned his attention to the menu.
“I can't read this,” he stated plainly.
“I'll gladly translate,” you offered immediately.
When Armitage nodded, you motioned to the stool right next to yours and waited until he sat down before you went over the menu.
“Drinks or food?”
“Drinks. Long day.”
You flipped the menu over and started to explain what each drink was. You made comments about ones you've personally tried or ones that you've heard about from others regarding taste and potency. You tried to recommend the drink you currently had, but Armitage looked so disgusted at the thought it made you giggle. He ended up settling for a bitter wine. Pure opposites, it seemed.
When his drink was delivered, you lightly clinked your glass against his before taking a sip.
“What was that for?” he scoffed softly.
“To new acquaintances?”
He scoffed again, taking a long drink of his wine. He pulled his glass back, frowning at it.
“Something wrong?”
“I need something stronger,” he muttered, setting the glass down to wave the bartender back. “After the day I've had… I need something that burns.”
“Oh! Erm…” You watched him order something else. “Are you okay? Like, mentally? Do you need to talk?”
“What are you, a therapist?”
“No, but I've been to enough to know a thing or two,” you chuckled weakly. “Seriously, though. Strangers or not, I'd listen.”
He shot you a long glance, sighing as his new drink was placed in front of him. He took a drink, wrinkling his nose at the strong taste of the fire whiskey he had ordered- you never touched the stuff, ew. He set the glass down and swallowed, looking at the golden amber liquid as he debated what to say.
“It's just… work,” he answered vaguely. “I hate my…. Coworker. He's a short-tempered brute. My boss humiliates me. Nothing ever goes to plan.”
He sighed, looking away from his drink to look up at the ceiling. “Everything sucks and I wonder why I'm here at all.”
You set your hand over his arm gently, giving his forearm a little squeeze to, hopefully, comfort him.
“I know how hard it can be when life feels that way,” you started softly.
“Do you?” He scoffed.
“Yes, I do,” you scoffed back, mocking him. “Don't presume to know my experiences.”
He frowned, but didn’t protest.
“I often feel like everything sucks too,” you went on. “But you have to escape that mindset. I know, I know, harder than it sounds. But you have to focus on other aspects of life, the things that make you happy, the beautiful things about what it is to be alive.”
“Like what?”
“Like… a fun drink!” You held up your glass. “Or meeting a stranger! Or eating your favorite meal, watching your favorite show, reading a good book, spending time with a friend, caring for a pet,” you listed.
Armitage only shook his head, still frowning.
“I have none of those.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have no friends, no favorite meals, shows, or books, no pet, I don't enjoy ‘fun drinks’, and I don't have the opportunity to meet strangers often.”
You frowned, sipping on your drink as you listened.
“Sounds lonely. Maybe you should get a pet.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “Like I would have something like… a cat, or something.”
“Hey, you never know.” You shrugged. “But really, no favorite meal? I find that hard to believe.”
“I eat for nutrients and no other reason.”
“Boring!” You rolled your eyes. “No wonder you're miserable! No offense.”
He frowned at you again.
“I have so many favorite meals,” you continued. “I love to cook, when I have the energy to. I flash-freeze meals ahead of time so I don't have to often, but I make this pasta dish that- hey! You should come over for dinner!”
“What?!” He pulled back, startled at the sudden offer. His ears turned a beautiful shade of red.
“I can heat up one of my meals for you!” You offered. “It was planned for tonight anyway, but my roommate had a sudden change in plans so she won't be home for dinner. You can come over instead!”
“Do you often invite strangers home for dinner?” he questioned, subconsciously adjusting his coat, fixing his appearance out of a nervous habit.
“Just the cute, grumpy ones,” you teased.
Armitage's mouth fell open in shock and his hands froze where they held his coat. You take it that he doesn't get flirted with often. Good, more for you.
“C'mon, what do you say?” You pressed, touching his arm again. “Let's finish our drinks, then I'll treat you to a nice, home-cooked meal. That'll fix your spirits.”
“I… I- yes,” Armitage stammered, nodding his head reluctantly. “Alright. I can… I can spare a couple hours.”
You grinned, pleased you won him over. It’s been ages since anyone’s humored you, and you wouldn’t mind spending an evening getting to know this handsome stranger. Of course, you did genuinely want to cheer him up! You had no ill intentions, truly. But if helping a stranger is where the night was taking you, who were you to complain if he was so beautiful?
The two of you finished off your drinks and paid your bills separately. Your drink left you feeling giddy, although not really drunk. Just a little lighter after the day you’ve had. You picked up your cane from where you left it resting against the bar and adjusted your hand through the wrist strap, then looked up at your companion to see if he was ready to go.
He was frowning downwards, and you followed his gaze to your cane.
“Oh! Yeah, my legs don’t work so well anymore,” you dismissed easily, shrugging. “No worries! At least I can still be stylish, hm?”
You twisted your cane, the glittery surface reflecting the light from the bar. Who said mobility aids couldn’t be cute and bedazzled?
“Very… reflective,” he commented.
You looked up, expecting that he meant it as poorly disguised judgement, but you caught him nodding in approval as he fixed his coat again.
“It suits you,” he added, looking away as he buttoned his coat. “Lead the way?”
“Of course!” You grinned up at him, not minding at all that he was actively avoiding eye contact. Maybe he was just nervous! You’ve met plenty of people who didn’t make eye contact! You used to not make it either, so this was perfectly fine.
“Come on, we can catch the bus!”
You led the way out of the bar, narrowly avoiding a group of people who were crowding the entrance. You maneuvered through them and reached the street, checking both ways before you continued. You glanced over your shoulder to see if Armitage was following, but he seemed startled by the amount of people who were bumping into him, like he was shocked they weren’t making way for him.
You waited until he caught up with you, then you reached out and grabbed his hand with your free one.
“Here, it’s easy to get separated with the evening rush.” You squeezed his hand. “Come on.”
You pulled Armitage along, making sure your grip on his hand was firm as you navigated through the crowded streets to the bus stop. The people in this city didn’t move out of the way for anybody, you learned that quickly after moving here. Nobody cared who you were, if you were an old lady carrying groceries or someone with a cane trying to get past. Everyone was too self-focused to care. That’s the way the world works, but once you learned that, you could weave through the crowds.
You made it to the bus stop a few minutes before the next bus was scheduled to pull up. To your dismay, the bench was already filled with people, but you weren’t going to make them move. Maybe they also had long days. You found a street lamp to lean against while you waited and let go of Armitage’s hand, realizing you were still clinging to it. His hand hovered in place in the air before he let it drop.
Armitage finally took a look at your surroundings, clasping his hands together behind his back. He scanned the crowd of people gathered for the bus and then glanced at the street, trying to spot if the bus was on its way. His eyes finally landed back to you, leaning against the street lamp and your cane and shifting your weight to try and take the pressure off your legs.
“Are you alright?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and frowning. He seemed to frown a lot.
“I’m sure the bus will be here soon.” You shrugged, turning to watch the road.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“There’s nothing to be done about it,” you replied, shaking your head.
“I could carry you,” he offered.
You whipped your head around immediately, tilting your head to look up at Armitage. The look on his face was so serious, it made you burst out into a fight of laughter.
“What? I was genuine,” he protested, scowling as you bent over in a fit of giggles.
“I can see that,” you snorted, trying to catch your breath. “That’s what’s so great! Stars, wow, that’s really sweet of you.” You shook your head, huffing as you caught your breath. “But I have to decline, I think that’d turn a few odd heads.”
“Fine. I’ll just never offer my assistance again, then.”
“Oh, don’t be so sour,” you scoffed, elbowing him lightly in the side. “I appreciate the sentiment, it’s just a bit of an odd place, y’know?”
“Fine.”
You rolled your eyes just as the bus pulled up to the stop.
“Come on, I want to at least get a seat on the bus and not be stuck standing,” you called, pushing off the street lamp to start towards the door.
Armitage walked right past you (which wasn’t hard to do, you were slower than the average person with your cane) to the door, getting on the bus before you even caught up. Rude!
You huffed and pushed on, climbing into the bus and immediately looking around people’s shoulders to find where he had gone off to. You walked down the aisle, trying to find him, when a hand grabbed your shoulder. You were pulled back into a bench and were just about to curse out whoever grabbed you when you looked up and saw it was Armitage.
“Was… saving you a seat,” he muttered, shrugging and looking around the bus before he sat down on the bench next to you, acting casual.
Oh, so that’s why he rushed off. To get you a seat.
“Aww, wait, that was sweet of you.” You smiled, cozying up to him on the bench. “Thank you.”
“Whatever,” he scoffed, and you caught his ears turning red again as he looked out the window. “It was only reasonable.”
“Mhm, sure.”
The rest of the ride went by in silence as the bus pulled away from the stop and merged onto the road. The ride was smooth since the vehicles in this district had long given up traditional wheels and moved to hover technology. You kept an eye on the screen that informed the passengers of where the next stop was to make sure you got off in your neighborhood while Armitage kept his gaze out the window, watching other vehicles whirring past.
“This one's our stop,” you informed him, standing up as the bus slowed to a halt.
You waited for a couple people to pass you before you stepped out into the aisle, thanking the driver as you passed like you did every time, and climbed off the bus. You waited for Armitage to step off and make it back to your side before you continued down the walkway towards your apartment complex.
“This part's a bit of a walk,” you explained, pushing yourself forward with your cane with every step. “Well, it is for me, at least, but this is the nearest bus stop to my place.”
“You can't move closer?”
You snorted at his ignorance.
“One, the closer apartments cost more, and two, I can't pack up and move anything.” You tapped your cane.
“Oh… right, sorry.”
“You're fine.”
You made it halfway down the block before you stopped, catching your breath. Armitage stopped as well, waiting for you as you leaned heavily on your cane. The moment you started to sway, he set a steadying hand on your arm.
“Are you alright?”
“I'll be fine,” you insisted, panting. “I just get winded. And sore. And dizzy.”
“Should I call a doctor?”
You shook your head, chuckling at the thought.
“They can't help me any more than they already have, sweetheart.”
His whole face turned red that time.
“I'm older than you,” he muttered softly, protesting the nickname.
“I sure feel old,” you sighed, a glance around while you waited for your hip to stop spasming and your heart to stop pounding.
“Can I help in any way?” He offered, frowning at your state.
“Sure, remember when you offered to carry me earlier?” You teased.
You meant it as a joke. Really, you did. You had no idea Armitage would nod seriously and bend down, scooping you up into his arms bridal style and adjusting you against him.
“Whoa-” You clutched your cane so you didn't drop it, holding it close while he started to walk in the direction you were traveling again. “Woof, you're strong, huh?”
“Tsk,” he grumbled. His ears might as well be permanently red at this point.
“I'm not too heavy?”
“Don't insult my strength.”
Woof, okay,
“Yes, sir,” you chuckled, earning an odd look from him as he scrunched his nose.
“Just let me know when we're there, hm?”
“Red building coming up on the right,” you pointed to a complex several buildings down. “I'm on the 2nd floor, couldn't score a ground floor place, but there is an elevator.”
Armitage nodded and continued on. You were impressed with how composed he was during all this, how easily he carried you despite his stature. You thought he was a little thin, but he must be lean. Or maybe you were just so weak in comparison, any strength impressed you.
“You can set me down at the door, I'll be fine.”
“Are you-”
“Yes, I'm sure,” you chuckled. “My hip will last me another day yet.”
Armitage set you down just outside the door of the apartment complex, but he didn't open the door for you before you were able to even reach for it, too busy readjusting to having your feet on the ground.
“A gentleman,” you teased as you stepped through the doorway, leading him to the elevator down the hall.
A short elevator ride later and a few steps down another hallway, and you were at your apartment’s door. You fished your key out of your purse and unlocked the door, officially inviting the stranger you met at the bar inside.
It sounded bad when you put it like that, didn't it? Oh well.
“Make yourself comfortable,” you called back as you started to unwind yourself.
You put your keys back into your purse to make sure you didn’t forget them next time you left the house and deposited your bag onto the little table you kept by the door. You leaned your cane against the wall as you shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the rack nearby. You caught Armitage taking off his coat as well, and he looked so much smaller without it. It made you all the more surprised he was able to carry you earlier, then.
You were about to comment on it, just tease him a little about wearing shoulderpads or something, when you caught the symbol on his sleeve. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry.
“You’re a soldier,” you realized, your eyes darting up from the First Order patch on his upper arm to his eyes, suddenly feeling stuck in place. You had to quickly determine just what kind of soldier he was. In your opinion, there were about 3 types of soldiers; ones who were genuinely cruel and crave power, ones who were manipulated into serving the Order, and ones who felt they had no other choice but to serve.
“...Yes,” he answered carefully, looking down at his arm where you had caught sight of the symbol and briefly covering it with his hand, rubbing a gloved thumb over the marking. “But I mean you no harm.”
“Do you mean my planet harm?” you couldn’t stop the question from falling out as you grabbed the wall for support.
Armitage looked back at you, frowning as he observed your reaction. He dropped his hand from his sleeve and clasped his hands together behind his back again.
“...No,” he answered carefully again, his jaw ticking. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I don’t- stars, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Soldiers are either the worst people you’ve ever met or the most noble, it hardly seems like there’s a middle ground.”
“Do you think I’m the worst person you’ve ever met?” he asked bitterly.
“No!” you replied quickly. “No, I don’t, I’m sorry, I was just taken off-guard. Bad experiences in the past, and all that. You’ve been nothing but kind! Well, a little grumpy, let’s be honest here,” you rambled. “But kind!”
“Kind,” he repeated slowly, like the word was unfamiliar to him.
“Yeah. Come on, come sit and be comfortable,” you offered, nodding to your apartment.
“I almost thought you were going to kick me out,” he muttered to himself, but you barely caught it.
“What? No, sorry again. If anything, I think you deserve a warm, home cooked meal more than anything now, knowing you’re a soldier.”
Armitage shot you a look you couldn’t decipher, and then he walked further into your home. Your apartment was tiny. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all one big room, with a hallway in the back that led to the two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. You watched Armitage sit down stiffly on your couch (which was the best thing you own, you think, you found it at a secondhand store for 10 credits when you first moved in, and it was the softest, plushiest couch you’ve ever sat on. He looked hilariously out of place on it).
You walked to your kitchen, leaning your cane behind in favor of using your surroundings to support you. You often saved your cane for leaving the house and rested against furniture or countertops while you were home. Was it the best plan? Maybe not. But you liked having both hands free if you could.
You folded your fingers carefully to support your thumb from overextending as you pressed the buttons on your oven to preheat it to the correct temperature. Next, you opened your freezer- a delightful upright one so you didn’t have to bend over much- and pulled out one of the meals you had prepared a couple months ago, a delicious baked pasta dish. You took off the top of the tray and leaned against the counter while you waited for the oven to be ready, shifting your weight to try and ease the soreness developing after a long day.
“Should I assist you?” Armitage called from the couch. He had been sitting there, stiff and awkward, ever since he sat down.
“No, I’ve got it,” you called back, shifting your weight again.
“I thought standing was uncomfortable for you?”
“It is.” You shrugged, tapping your fingers on the counter. “But this will only take a minute more for the oven to preheat. No sense in sitting down when I have to get back up so soon.”
“I could put the meal in for you,” he offered. “To repay your hospitality. It can’t be hard.”
“Do you know how to use an oven?” you chuckled, intending it as an obvious joke.
You watched him frown. The way his nose scrunched up was just too adorable.
“I… can’t say I have ever used one,” Armitage admitted.
Dang. Really?
“Really?” Your words echoed your thoughts.
Just then, the oven beeped and you did the hard part of bending over to open the door and slid in the tray of food, shutting the door to let it cook. You managed to set a timer before the wave of dizziness hit you, but you caught yourself on the counter. You’ve played these games before.
You were just about recovered and ready to step away when you bumped your back into something, and you turned your head up to meet Armitage’s gaze. Wow, his eyes were so pretty and green, like the ponds where you grew up.
“Oh! Hi,” you chuckled, shooting him a smile as you tilted your head. “Need something?”
“You looked unsteady,” he murmured, looking away from your face. “I was making sure you weren’t going to fall.”
“Oh, thank you.” You smiled wider, purposefully bumping back into him again playfully. “But I’m alright! I’ll join you on the couch now.”
“You are not alright, you stumbled again,” he scoffed, setting one hand on your arm and the other on your back. It was only when he started to lead you to the couch when you realized he took your playful bump as a sign you were unsteady again, but… hey, you weren’t complaining when his hands felt so warm against you.
Armitage supported your back as you sat down on the couch, and once you were seated he hovered over you like a mother hen, scanning you to make sure you really were alright. It was endearing how much this stranger seemed to care about your comfort, but maybe he was becoming less of a stranger, and more like a friend.
“I’m not made of glass,” you giggled. “I’m alright, thank you, though. I appreciate the concern.”
“I’ve just… never been around someone so… weak,” he muttered, sitting down next to you with a frown.
“Um, ouch,” you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Brutally honest much?”
“Yes. I don’t believe in sugarcoating anything.”
“Double ouch,” you sighed, leaning back against the couch. You propped your legs up on the coffeetable, stretching them a little now that you had the chance to properly recline.
“You’re also very… cheerful,” he added in a softer tone, tilting his head as he examined you again. “I would have thought someone like you would be depressed or discouraged.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Armitage bit his lip, looking a little bit ashamed as he nodded in agreement.
“That’s true, I suppose,” he muttered. “My apologies, then. I don’t mean to offend the person who has offered me nothing but kindness.”
“Good. Next time, I might smack you over the head for it.”
He scoffed, looking away and rolling his eyes at the very idea, but you caught a tiny bit of a smile on his lips. Gotcha.
“I am weak,” you continued the conversation after a moment. “I don’t pretend not to be. When I was younger, I thought I had to do everything I could to pretend I was stronger than I was, to pretend I didn’t need help… Stars, sometimes I do still feel that way. The world is harsh, it doesn’t stop and wait for you. If I’m too slow to catch the bus? Too bad, now I have to wait for the next one.”
Armitage frowned at you, tilting his head as he listened to every word you said.
“There’s this whole notion, too,” you went on. “That you should let disabled people do everything themselves to be independent- but we’re disabled! We need the help, some more than others, but we do need it. It’s embarrassing to have to ask for help, but I for one appreciate it when people offer it instead, even if I sometimes say no. It’s the idea that someone wants to help that makes me feel reassured, you know?”
“You seem to have it figured out,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Mhm. Been this way since I was a teenager,” you sighed, rubbing a sore spot on your leg.
“But you’re so… kind,” he added, unsure what other word to use. “Happy. Friendly… despite the pain.”
“Well, yeah.” You tilted your head at him, smiling again. “That’s a long time to cope with it, y’know? That doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days, I still do, but… I try not to take it out on other people.”
Armitage frowned again, and you were starting to realize that half the time, he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He did it because he was thinking about something.
“I have…” He swallowed, and you watched his throat bob. “Migraines and… nightmares about…”
Armitage trailed off quietly, not meeting your gaze as he stared off at some part of the wall in the distance, something deep and conflicting crossing over his face. You waited for him to say more, but he never did. Perhaps it was just too much to talk about.
“Are you in pain, too?” you asked softly.
He nodded, a subtle action you would have missed if you weren’t locked on to him as you were.
“I don’t… have the privilege to talk about it with… anyone,” he continued quietly. “Nor do I… really want to.”
“You don’t have to.”
You reached out to grab his arm, rubbing your hand along his forearm to try and reassure him. You can only imagine what things he must have seen as a First Order soldier.
“Thank you,” he sighed softly, closing his eyes as he relaxed into your touch. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Hm?”
“Remain kind.”
“I really don’t know either,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I can.”
“Me too.”
Dinner went by surprisingly well. You finally allowed Armitage to help you by lifting the pasta out of the oven (he scoffed at the pink oven mitts you made him wear, but hey, safety first!), but you were still the one who served him at your little dining table. You watched him look over everything as you placed it out. The mismatched… everything. A collection of utensils, plates, and cups all collected from years of secondhand shopping and inheriting stuff from your grandmother or your roommate's family. Saving every credit where you could.
Armitage didn't comment on any of it, nor did he comment on the food, but he did eat at least 3 servings, so he must have liked the meal after all. You felt immensely proud of yourself as you loaded the dishes into the dishwasher after.
“Stay for another drink?” You offered, not ready to let him go yet. “I've got sparkling cider.”
He was already nodding before you finished your sentence, and you brought the bottle and two glasses with you back to the living. You sat down with a soft groan, and he was automatically checking you over.
“Should you rest?”
“I am resting,” you reasoned, propping up your feet. “Actually… hold on.”
You pulled up your pant leg and snickered when Armitage immediately looked away.
“What, are you scared of a fair maiden’s ankles?” you teased, pulling your pant leg up to your knees so you could unstrap the braces around them. “Relax.”
You sighed in relief as you took off your knee braces, tossing them somewhere on the floor to be tomorrow's problem. They supported your knees while you walked or stood, but they weren't comfortable to lounge in, and your knees needed a break from them to prevent chafing.
You fixed your pants and propped your feet back up, reclining back on the couch. You turned to Armitage, noticing his stiff posture once again.
“Relax,” you commanded, poking him in the side and making his face scrunch up beautifully again.
You leaned forward, poured two glasses of cider, and then reclined again with one of them, getting comfortable.
“We can watch a holomovie,” you offered. “You said you didn't have any favorites? Well, I can change that. Maybe. I've got a few weeks could see, if you wanted, something to pass the time and fill the silence.”
You turned to him again, watching him take a sip of the cider and frown again.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, there's no alcohol in this,” you explained. "I try not to have more than a glass or two.”
“Then what's the point of drinking it?”
“Uh… for fun?” You snorted, shaking your head. “You're a weird man.”
He scowled.
“Not an insult," you added. “It's cute.”
“I am most definitely not cute.”
The way he scowled and the way his ears turned red proved otherwise to you.
“Keep telling yourself that,” you chuckled, touching his arm again. You squeezed it and then let go to grab the remote, flicking something on.
—⭒☆⭒—⭑⋆⋆⋆⭑—⭒☆⭒—
Within a couple hours, you were starting to doze off. You didn't want this to end, though. You barely got any social interactions outside of your roommate, and Armitage was starting to warm up to you with his commentary on the holomovie you were finishing up. At some point, you had started to lean against his side, and he leaned back, wrapping one arm around you to help support you. This stranger was so alluring, it took everything in you not to do something too bold. You didn't want to say goodbye, but you wanted to sleep.
“Hey,” you murmured as the credits rolled, gently sliding your hand onto his leg to get his attention. “I need to go to bed.”
Armitage looked down at you, his mouth falling open slightly as he focused on your hand.
“I… understand. I overstayed my welcome.”
“No!” You squeezed his leg. “Not at all! I'd love to keep you, but I-” you broke off with a yawn.
He set a hand on your shoulder to steady you, waiting until your yawn passed.
“Sorry,” you cleared your throat. “I need my rest.”
“So I should leave,” he murmured, frowning.
Gosh, you wanted to wipe that frown right off his face. It was so adorable, the way his lips pouted and his nose scrunched up. You had to get your head in the game.
“Do you have somewhere to stay?” You asked, remembering he was a soldier. Maybe he was on leave.
He was quiet for a moment, mulling over something in his head.
“If I said no…?” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, like he was nervous to ask.
“Then you could stay here,” you offered easily. “If you don't mind the couch.”
“Yes,” he agreed instantly. “Then I have no place better to be.”
Huh. He didn't say he didn’t have somewhere to stay, just that it wasn't better than here.
“Alright, then. Bathroom's down the hall and… I'll go grab you a blanket.”
Before you knew it, you were setting up this stranger in your living room for the night. Was he still a stranger? Or was he now a friend? What makes someone a friend? You shook your head, fluffing out the blanket you brought from your room and laying it over Armitage, tucking him in.
“Really?” He scoffed, but you caught a smile on his lips as you made sure the blanket covered him from shoulders to feet.
“Really.” You smiled back at him.
“Are you going to kiss me goodnight too?” He teased.
Now, look. You weren't thinking about it at first, but now you were, and now it sounded awfully appealing. So you leaned down, one hand on his chest to hold him in place, and kissed his forehead just above his right eyebrow.
“There,” you whispered softly. “Goodight.”
“Good- goodnight,” Armitage called quietly after you as you left, his throat bobbing slightly as he watched you disappear down the hall.