Chapter Text
You were climbing up the flight of stairs to your apartment, and by the second one you were hating the whole fucking building. Why on earth did you rent the one at the very top? Ah yes, the view and the access to the roof that you always enjoyed. It was worth the stairs, really, but not that day in which you were more loaded than Santa on Christmas. You had the brilliant idea of going to the grocery store before leaving your stuff at home because then, you’d be too tired to do it and you’d have to InstaCart some shit and you didn’t want to spend extra, though you spent those extra bucks buying sweets and candies you promised yourself you’d make them last.
A fucking lie. It all was a fucking lie.
“Ahhh, fuck me, goddammit,” you groaned up the stairs, feeling one of the bags awfully wiggly in your arm. “Don’t you fucking dare falling off or I’m gonna fucking lose the little mental sanity I have left for the whole fucking week, and it’s only Tuesday,” you threatened the bag.
“Need a hand?” You heard a ridiculously masculine voice from the upper part of the stair.
As you looked up, you saw your mysterious and hot neighbor completely –and thankfully—shirtless, holding out his hand to you.
This neighbor still had no name for you, but always flashed a smile whenever you two crossed paths on the hallway. No one really knew a lot about him, except for the old lady on the first floor which you often visited because it reminded you of Hey Arnold’s grandma; Mrs. Fuentes said he was very kind, and more than once helped her with the groceries, or with pickle jars, which often lead to him staying for a cup of tea or whatever she had.
“You okay?” He asked again, noticing that you were still not answering, but in obvious need of help.
“Uhhh, I could use a hand, yeah,” you nodded, and he came down to help you with the bag that caused the most trouble. “Thanks a lot.”
“You really okay? Those were a lot of fucks for a lady.”
“Excuse me?” You cocked an eyebrow, feeling how your vagina dried up at the comment. You truly hoped he wasn’t one of those men that are unnecessarily worried about a woman’s vocabulary.
“Yeah, I followed the trail of fucks and found you,” he chuckled softly. “Okay, where to?” The smile he just gave you didn’t really match the visuals of that man.
“Uhh… a few more floors up—to the top one.”
“You’re the one at the penthouse, aren’t you?”
You laughed heartedly as you lead the way. “That’s generous, it’s barely an attic,” you shook your head. “Hey, you can just leave this stuff here, and I’ll come back for them later—it’s gonna get cold up there,” you quickly glanced at him from over your shoulder, blushing furiously and thanking he wasn’t able to see you. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“Oh, I bet,” you blurted out without a second thought. Both of you chuckled softly without looking at each other.
You were entirely sure your neighbor was really fucking tough. He had the whole big dick energy down to his core, and you were utterly intrigued—and why not, slightly turned on too. He offered to help you all the way, but the way from the front door to your kitchen wasn’t long, so you kindly declined and thanked him for the aid. Once you were done getting your stuff inside the cabinets, you realized you hadn’t asked for his name, though probably Mrs. Fuentes had some info on the hot neighbor.