Moving Day
No one really noticed when their old neighbor moved out honestly. The guy was quiet, he usually stayed away from interaction and the two assumed he was a hermit or a college student. They'd met a few times and it was easy to talk to him but as soon as he came the guy was gone. The guy was nice enough to leave them some books that York was interested in and he hoped he'd at least be able to thank the guy but there was no attached address. Oh well.
More than a month will pass, even through the debacle of York coming home with two Labradors (Iota and Eta, isn't it perfect Nate?). It had seemed to work though, through some luck of their friend Flowers that both puppies were labeled as emotional therapy dogs and their landlord had allowed them even though they were over the weight limit. But it left the men to train them to properly be emotional therapy dogs, although it mostly meant teaching them to be comfortable in the vest, to be friendly and know proper manners and how to ask to go outside. During that time, someone will finally move into the vacant apartment next to them.
North will be the one awake enough to hear the opening of the apartment door in the morning, hear the movement and muffled speech as he settles against the nook and sips his coffee with a dog looking at him pitifully.
“Avery spoils you,” he huffs. At the mention of their second father the Labrador wags her tail and makes a huffy noise that sounds a little too much like North and he rolls his eyes. Furry children, York had told him, would act a lot like their parents no matter how not human they were. He was going to punch his boyfriend later.
More movement came from the next door apartment; the talking had lessened but it seemed that music began to seep through the thin walls. Looking at a clock on the opposite wall it was nearing nine, so it was late enough they could play without complaint so he simply drank his coffee. As he waited for Iota to stop trying to beg for food he heard new noises; muffled words and shuffling and even with the music he heard a familiar thump from outside and slipped out of his seat and pushed the muzzle of the puppy away and went to get the morning paper.
Red. The ponytail loose around their neck was so bright red North knew it had to be dyed and as he kept watching they would disappear inside the apartment only to come out after a few more minutes. She meets his eyes and he's surprised by how stunning her eyes are. They're a bright, almost aquamarine and he pauses to stare even harder; her eyes hold a heaviness he feels familiar with and when he sees a scar on her cheek he wonders if she's served. She's wearing a baggy Army hoodie and well, that answers his question.
“Hey.” Her voice matches, level headed and even and North finds himself standing straighter against the threshold of his apartment.
“Hey. I-I'm Nate,” his reply feels dumb on his tongue and if she makes a response to his stumbling words she doesn't make a motion, half shutting the door and moving to a set of boxes that are set a few paces down. He wonders if someone is helping her move in but he doesn't ask. Instead he leans over to pick up his paper and simply watches and he hopes for an introduction.
She doesn't talk to him, looking like she's on a mission to get those boxes inside as fast as possible and he's about to speak when another noise breaks his train of thought. A jingle of a small bell catches him and he watches as a cat – no too small to be a cat – a kitten streaks between her legs and she swears something fierce while trying to reach for it.
The kitten will make an attempt to go into his apartment but he's faster than four nickle sized paws and he scoops the little beast into his arms. There is a protesting mewl but when North slips a finger underneath its chin the easy rumble of a purr makes him grin. He watches the red head come over and easily take the kitten off his hands with an apology.
“Sorry, Theta has been giving me trouble all morning.” She's got a semblance of a smile as the kitten crawls from her hands up her arms and to her shoulder. The kitten's fur is a cream that hints on orange and it was pretty, offset by vibrant eyes. They're like purple, almost fuchsia and it's such an odd mix but it's nice. The cat is nice, and the woman is smiling as she slips inside with the last box in her arms and the cat on her shoulder.
“Call me Carolina.”
With that the door closes and locks and the music from the apartment continues. North sort of stares, what else can he do? She was a red whirlwind and that cat was adorable. He shook it off and went back inside, dodging two wet noses as the Labradors were sniffing at the news paper like it was a toy. Tucking it under his arm he shoos them back towards the bedroom where York was still snoring. The blankets were up to the middle of his back but it did nothing to hide some of the bigger scars the man had. He debates on waking him early but it seems Iota is more than happy to do this as she's on York's side of the bed, licking the part of York's arm that lingers at the edge of the bed. The man will shift and the dog will follow until she's on the bed and crawling all over the man.
North is chuckling as York is slobbered on by the puppy and it's only when Eta joins in the fray does the man do anything to save his boyfriend who's groaning and pushing at the dogs who are licking his face with fervor. Grabbing hold of a muscled arm he hoists and shifts his weight, breaking the man free of the dogs and now that he's sitting up he shoos them off the bed. They think it's a game till North taps their butts with the rolled up newspaper and they high tail it out of the room. With them gone, York wipes the drool and affection off on the comforter and North will remember to wash the blankets and sheets later. But now his boyfriend is awake, and the two share a chaste kiss as York stretches and gets himself out of bed.
“Someone moved into the apartment next to us,” Nathan can't help it, he's excited to share the idle gossip. “She's pretty cute. Name's Carolina.” While York digs in his closet for a shirt he stops, looking at North with an odd expression. The name sparks familiarity in his head but he can't place it just yet He tells North he'll have to meet her whenever he gets the chance but he's going to go on a run first. Nathan contemplates pushing Avery back to the bed and doing his best to make the workout just the same but he's graced with a good view of his boyfriends toned thighs and ass as he slips his workout shorts over his underwear and his packer is slipped in and adjusted. Some viewing in the mirror is needed but it seems to please the man who turns and grabs a tank top.
“I'll make you an omelet when you come back,” they share a kiss as York is tossing the tank top on and grabbing his phone and earbuds. Closing the door behind him he starts stretching his legs, waiting for Pandora to load when he hears something to his left. He'll turn as the music starts, blaring out Panic At the Disco as he spies a blond kid? Standing there in a baggy sweater and leggings. When they turn their eyes meet and York stares. It takes him to long to recognize that it isn't the red head North was talking about. York is surprised to see the right side of their face covered in bandages, the blond almost trembling as he takes them in. The simple appearance of York made them freeze and quickly slam the door and York is simply left staring. That was weird. He's going to drop it, ignore it because he's losing time so while Pandora plays he loads up Zombies! Run! And begins his day.
==
The drive to the apartment in the early morning was something that he was thankful for. Thankful for the most amazing sister in the whole universe and the fact that Butch Flowers is a great, great person who can make calls in the middle of the night and set up something like this within twenty four hours. He chewed his lip as he watched the street lamps flicker off as dawn quickly approached the Seattle suburb apartment complex. There are movers there already, just finishing up moving some of the heavier things and he watches his sister slip them a hefty tip in thanks for their swift moving.
It had been six months and two apartment moves and Wash wondered if Carolina was just going to ask him to move in with her. But she didn't, and she helped him move in. It was an easy process although slowed when she wouldn't let him carry the boxes after he nearly fell over. His headache had started well over twelve hours ago and it seemed to only worse and he frowned at himself while Theta mewled from his lap. The first apartment didn't take well to the emotional support cat his therapist recommended him getting and the second apartment….
Wash shook his head of the memory and pet the flame point Siamese. His headache throbbed against his ears, against his eyes and it was easier to close his eyes and try to breathe. It worked so much he hadn't realized that someone was talking outside until the kitten ran out on him and towards the door. He's moving off the stool and Carolina swears and goes for the cat but she doesn't ran far it seems. More talking, he can't hear it through the music and his head getting worse. He retreats into his bedroom, where the music isn't as loud and he can just lay in quiet darkness. A queen bed was too big for him even when he and Carolina would lay and he'd sob into her shoulder from the dreams, the memories that –
No, no thinking on that it's making the headache worse and he's already so tired.
Carolina will be alone save for the cat on her shoulder. She moves to turn the music down a bit, box set on the counter and the kitten remains steady on her shoulder as she moves to the bedroom. He's laying there in a heap, not even a blanket on top of him and Theta lets out a mewl and hops from Carolina's shoulder and on to the bed. He curls up next to Wash's face and lets out another mewl and the red head is happy to see her little brother meow back to the cat weakly.
“Head getting bad?” When he nods she sighs. She leaves and Wash hears the radio click off and some shuffling in the living room. When she comes back she has a bottle of pills, a water bottle and a tin of cookies. Two pills are shaken out and when the blond sits up they're passed over along with the water bottle. Carolina is reading the box of cookies, Wash sighing a little. His sister is a godsend and he is happy to know she cares enough about him.
“'One dose is three cookies, take with water or milk to enjoy a pain free snack.'” Carolina reads aloud as she tears the cardboard, careful so she doesn't rip the box like she might with something of her own. The cookies are half the size of his palm, packaged in threes for the recommended serving. The plastic is clear save for the green cross and the brand of the cookie.
“Mary's Cookies, huh?” She sets the box down and she watches as he opens the package. They're simple chocolate chip cookies that he munches, smiling a bit shyly at her. She had been the one to suggest edibles when he didn't have the time to smoke. It worked a lot of the time but occasionally the packaging was so hokey, so silly he mostly kept the snacks in zip locks with a sticker to distinguish his medication from his regular snacks. With one cookie down and the water at his lips she watches Carolina relax some and sit on the windowsill. Theta is pawing a spot on Wash's pillow when the redhead speaks.
“Did you want me to stay to help you unpack or do you think you'll be okay till I come with dinner.” He's chewing on a cookie, letting a piece of chocolate melt on his tongue like a timer for his answer. When it does however he just takes another bite and a sip of water.
“It'll take a few days to unpack, and work let me have a the rest of the week to get settled,” he smiles at the thought. A real job, with people who weren't in camo every day and who didn't shout and who weren't bleedi – no, those thoughts are squashed and he stuffs the rest of the cookie in his mouth though he coughs. Cookie dust would be the death of him but he chews through it and only takes three sips of water before he can swallow comfortably. They talk about what they should have for dinner and Carolina says she'll just pick something up from work. She kisses her forehead and tells him to keep an eye on Theta, that he ran right for his neighbor's door.
Now is when she mentions the fact he's got neighbors and he gets a bit stiff, opting to eat the third cookie laying on his side and brushing crumbs off the sheet. She explains this Nate person, describes him and Wash sighs a little. From what she said he might be a vet too which honestly is what he expected. When Butch hooked him up with the apartment he was told that many veterans lived there because of the proximity to veteran centers and the calm of the area. Not a lot of loud noises and there were even a few great job opportunities. It was nice for Wash; the hours of a freelance artist were up to himself and when he wasn't busy with a project he'd work on personal projects or the occasional Netflix binge. Another great thing was the anonymity of being freelance; Washington would only have to step outside for the occasional grocery run and even then he could just hide with hoods, or a mask like Carolina had suggested.
Thinking on it, Wash gently touched his bandages, feeling the ache of the long healing wound. His doctor had told him the bandages and stitches would come out soon but until there was sufficient healing he'd be stuck like this. At least they taught him to change his bandages and apply the proper salves.
As he eats the third cookie he watches her leave and he bids her goodbye. But he'll follow her out to the couch. He can't stay here all day even if his headache ebbs and flows. He'll just take it easy with unpacking and have the blinds closed and as he gets into the living room he remembers that Carolina is the best sister in the whole world as she's moving to where the windows are, drawing blinds and curtains and he reclines on the couch. Once more she bids him goodbye and shuts the door behind her. Wash takes a deep breath. Now he's not so anxious with all the boxes, the couch and the bed and all the boxes. There are a few of Theta's toys in the kitchen next to his bowls and the box of cat things. But there's no box on the counter where it should be, where he thought she put it and he doesn't see the labeled box THETA in Carolina's neat script and he swears.
Dashing out like he did was an idiotic thing and it just left him in the middle of the hall with his bandaged face and his Good Meowrning sweatshirt and leggings. God damn it Carolina. But a sound caught his attention and he turns to catch the handsome hazel eye of a tall gentleman in shorts and a tank top. But this wasn't Nate; Nate was blond and lean with blue eyes. This person was well built with muscles defining his arms and his brunet hair was cropped but growing out. His eyes were what caught him. Hazel, warm and the left eye was a milky white; spider webbing scars that reach his ear and just as quick as he'd been out yelling for his sister he slammed the door close and pressed his back against the door. Holy shit. Fuck.
His headache is worse than before, and Wash sighs as he starts to unpack the boxes.
York is going two steps down to the ground floor, humming along with music.
North is finally relenting, giving the hounding pups at his calves a piece of cooked bacon each.