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Marvin fights back a shudder as he re-ties his robe tighter around his body, still bleary-eyed and disoriented after just waking up from a deep sleep. His fellow occupants of the apartment building are sparsely scattered around the parking lot in varying stages of dress, all looking as deeply unhappy and exhausted as he feels. He tries to find Cordelia and Charlotte, but given the fact that the couple seems to be purposefully hiding from sight, he suspects that a certain caterer was behind the small fire that dragged everyone out here in the first place.
Marvin yawns loudly and stretches, pondering the possibility of calling in sick for work if he's not back in bed at least in the next hour. He's lucky he had the conscious of mind to throw on a robe to cover his bare torso before exiting the building as he looks around and sees many huddled within themselves against the harsh February temperature.
"I would kill for a smoke right now." Marvin turns to find his hot as fuck neighbor Whizzer Brown standing behind him, hair mussed and clad in nothing but a pair of tight briefs. Feeling color rush to his cheeks, Marvin keeps his gaze trained on the man’s face and doesn’t dare let his eyes wander any lower.
Attempting to appear casual, he shrugs and replies, "Well, you could always get a little bit closer and breathe in the fumes coming from the building. It's basically the same thing."
"True. I mean, both'll kill ya," Whizzer agrees cynically before narrowing his eyes at him, "Your name is Marvin, right?"
"Yes, hello," Marvin greets, inwardly cringing at how stilted and formal he sounds, "And you're Whizzer Brown." Oh yeah, just tell him you know his full name. That doesn't make you sound like a stalker.
"The one and only," Whizzer confirms flatly before prompting, "You just moved in a month ago, didn’t you? So this is your first evacuation?"
Marvin stares at him wide-eyed, "So, this happens often?"
"Cordelia lives here," Whizzer emphasizes with a wry smile, "What do you think?"
"Fair point," Marvin concedes, "So, how long does this usually take?"
"About thirty minutes more," He answers, adding, "Honestly, I feel like we should all just chip in and assemble our own fire brigade at this point."
"Huh," Marvin cracks a smile, "You know, funnily enough, the landlord didn't mention this standard procedure during the tour."
"Shocking." Whizzer declares as he presses his lips together and shivers slightly. Impulsively, Marvin shucks off his robe and drapes it over Whizzer's shoulders.
The younger man seems surprised at the gesture, jesting sardonically, "What, was I making you uncomfortable?"
"I mean, I wouldn't use the word uncomfortable." Marvin mutters under his breath (prompting a surprised, calculating look from Whizzer), adding pointedly, "It's called kindness. Usually, people don't question it. Instead, they say words of gratitude, like 'thank you.'"
"I didn’t need an explanation of social etiquette, Mr. Rogers." Whizzer quips, his gaze drifting downward as he assesses Marvin's shirtless form with vague but deeply apparent interest. Seeming to decide on something, Whizzer steps closer to him until they're almost chest to chest. His sweet smile is barbed with something cruel and wicked as he purrs demurely, "Thank you, Marvin."
Marvin fights the urge to step away and regain his personal space, meeting Whizzer's gaze steadily, "See? Was that so hard?"
"It was, actually." Whizzer replies coolly, stepping away and tying the robe closed. Though he is kinda being an ass about it, Marvin notices that Whizzer does appreciate the extra warmth that the robe is providing. He takes comfort in that piece of information as he spends the next twenty or so minutes freezing his ass off and engaging in banter with his hot neighbor.
Finally, the firemen give the okay to re-enter the building, and everyone darts for the door. Marvin and Whizzer linger behind the crowd, tossing insincere insults and bad puns at each other until both are a pair grinning, giggling school boys. When they get to the doors of their separate apartments, Marvin realizes that whatever this connection he had with Whizzer is now over. After all, he’s not going to kid himself by entertaining the notion that he’s anywhere near Whizzer's league. Marvin’s already seen the kinds of guys that he brings home, and none of them have had that pathetic, "Dad-aesthetic" (as Whizzer just eloquently put it just a few minutes ago) that he does. This harmless flirting was just a way to pass the time before they each separate back into their different apartments and subsequent lives.
Apparently oblivious to the crossroads that they’re at, Whizzer continues to mouth off to him with that arrogant yet charming grin of his. It's only when Marvin clears his throat that Whizzer seems to realize their time is over, "So, this is my place."
"No shit, Mr. Rogers," Whizzer responds, his smile dropping slowly by the second, "So—Oh, here you go." He takes the robe off and hands it back to Marvin, leaving him once again standing in nothing but his underwear.
Neither move from their spots, as if silently daring each other to make a move (quite literally and figuratively). Marvin, though he explicitly resolved not to make a fool of himself like this on the elevator ride up here, decides oh, fuck it, and remarks casually, "So this was my first brush with death, huh? I feel like I should commemorate it somehow."
"Really?" Whizzer jumps on the implication, opening his door with a knowing grin, "You know, I think I have some Scotch in here for such a remarkable landmark. Care to join me?"
Marvin calls in sick for work the following day, but the justification of which is not him catching up on his sleep.