Chapter Text
Moving into an apartment on the second floor didn’t initially seem like a stupid idea when she had signed the renter agreement. The rent was cheap, the apartment itself wasn’t crazy fancy but it was spacious and relatively well-kept. Plus, her only neighbor that had moved in after her was almost never home.
It was almost perfect.
Almost because in this moment, she had never hated it more.
With two flimsy paper bags filled to the brim and balanced precariously on her hips, she trudged up the stairs with a grimace on her face.
She was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid for getting this stupid apartment.
And additionally stupid because of her stupid pride that wouldn’t let her take two trips.
Relief lightened her face when she made it up the last step and her front door was in sight. It was so close. Just a straight shot now.
She bee-lined it for her door, just passing her ghost of a neighbor’s door when suddenly it swung open. It was so forceful that it managed to knock her off her feet and send her stumbling onto her ass, her grocery bags going flying in the process.
“What the fu-,” she began to curse out but stopped short when a gravelly voice swore from behind the door.
“Shite,” it said and then the door slammed shut to reveal a massive, burly man with a stupid looking mohawk, stupidly smooth tan skin, and amazingly stupid, beautiful blue eyes.
He was dressed in casual, dark cargo pants and a stupidly tight black t-shirt that clung to his stupid muscles. In his hands was a packed duffle bag and a cell phone and keys.
“Ah, shite. I’m so sorry lass. I-,” he approached her and took in her disheveled form but refused to bend down and help. Instead, he fidgeted like he desperately wanted to but something held him back. He looked up, and she followed his gaze in time to see several cans roll off the edge of the hallway and plummet to the first floor. Her heart shattered along with the can of chicken noodle soup, the milk, and the eggs that were splattered across the cement.
Even with the phone in his hand, he still dragged it across his mohawk with stress, his bicep flexing at the movement. With a sigh, he motioned to step forward, starting with, “Lass, I-,” but was cut off when his phone began to ring.
She quickly caught sight of the word “Price” on the phone before he raised it to his ear. Another deep voice could be heard through the phone, not clear enough to be understood but she could tell it was urgent.
Hanging it up, his thick, brown eyebrows bunched together with the frown on his lips as he jogged away from her, only shouting a short apology over his shoulder.
She could only stare after him in shock from her spot on the floor.
He just left?
The Scottish bastard had knocked her down, destroyed the majority of her groceries, and then just left ?
A string of expletives left her lips as she stood from the ground, dusted herself off, and assessed the damage.
Her bags and food were so beyond destroyed that she didn’t even want to attempt to see if anything could be salvaged.
With a groan, she moved to her front door but paused to make another annoyed noise when she knew she couldn’t in good faith leave her messed up groceries on the floor.
And he’s going to make me clean it up myself , she angrily thought but still made her way into her apartment to grab a trash bag and gloves.
She now had two reasons to hate this apartment.
…
It was a cold day. She couldn’t help but bundle up in her softest blanket on the couch while she watched the latest all-the-rage horror movie that all of her friends were talking about. She still had to figure out what to do for dinner and the clock was ticking but she was so comfy that she couldn’t bring herself to cook. And thinking of a place to grab food required too much thought.
Life was so tough.
She’d waste away on that couch of hers if not for the firm knock that rapped against the door.
Her eyes closed in an attempt to find inner peace for a long second before the knock came again and she had to leave her little nest with a huff.
Quickly pausing her movie, she rose and marched to the door, taking a look through the peephole.
Un-fucking-believable.
She swung the door open and immediately regretted it as the winter air filtered in, ghosting against her exposed legs and arms. She tried her best to look undisturbed as she held the door open to the man who stood before her, same as he looked that day, only now holding two grocery bags in one large arm.
An unimpressed look encompassed her face as she stared him down, absolutely refusing to be the first one to speak.
He at least had the decency to look bashful. And he seemed to know this conversation was on him.
He cleared his throat. “I’m glad I guessed right. That you lived here tha’ is.” She stayed silent, raising one eyebrow. “Look,” he shifted his weight to one foot, “I’m so sorry for knockin’ into you the other day. And for not helpin’ after. I uh,” he nodded his head towards the food in his arms, “I tried to get what I could remember for you. Eggs, milk, broth, soup, and the likes.”
He held out the bags towards her.
“The other day?” she finally asked. “That was over a month ago. It took you that long to work up an apology? Did you consider that I’d already had to repurchase everything by now? Maybe even a few times over?”
With a quiet swear, his head dropped. “I’m so sorry. My job has me away for long periods of time. This was the soonest I could stop by. And re-buyin’ your groceries wasn’t my smartest moment, I’ll admit tha’.”
His baby blues peaked up at her.
“But I really am sorry. What could I do to actually make it up to you?” His eyes looked past her, into her apartment, searching. “Have you eatin’? I could make you dinner?”
She bit back a scoff. Truth be told, he seemed genuine. But still, she wanted to push him a bit further. She had scrubbed eggs off the hallway floor because of him.
“Are you really hitting on me right now?”
With widening eyes, he took a step back and held his free hand up in defense.
“Promise I’m not! Typically I’m much smoother with the birds when I’m flirtin’.”
Holding back a smile, she rolled her eyes. She let herself look him up and down, taking her time so he could visibly see her check him out.
“What would you make me?” she asked once her eyes made it back to his face.
She could’ve sworn he shivered at the look.
He made an attempt to step into her apartment with a smile of relief but she held out a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Confusion flashed across his face so she offered some clarity.
“You think I’ll let a guy I just met into my apartment? I shouldn’t even be letting you cook for me.” She motioned to his apartment next door. “You can cook over there and come back when you’re done.”
With his free hand he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Aye, supposed that’s fair. Give me an hour,” he said with his grin gaining more confidence. He tilted his head in a small goodbye and then picked up a duffle bag and left.
Duffle bag?
She took it in before closing her door, pausing to think once the cold was blocked out.
That was the same duffle bag he was holding when he ran into her. Had he really gone to the store the second he got back from… wherever it was he went?
She decided not to stew on it for too long, instead retreating into her apartment and getting cozy on her couch again. She had an hour to kill after all.
The movie was only halfway finished by the time there was another knock on the door.
At least he was prompt.
And so she was back on her feet and opening the door once again without even bothering to check who was on the other side.
He was standing there in the same clothes, only no groceries or duffle bag. Instead he held a huge container of something brown and liquid.
He was practically beaming.
Without a word he handed it out to her to take.
She was shocked by her lack of hesitance to take the container from his hands. Her fingers brushed his lightly and she nearly jolted when she felt the amount of heat they alone emanated. That would explain his short sleeves on such a cold day.
Tilting the container in different directions, she asked, “What did you end up making?”
“A beef stew family recipe directly from Scotland!” he tapped the container, “The best way to warm you up. Tremblin’ like a leaf with the door open.”
He paused before asking, “Want me to take a bite first to show you it isn’t poisoned?”
A chuckle escaped her despite her best efforts.
“Trying to get into my apartment again?” she teased with the quirk of her lips.
With more confidence now, this time he didn’t back down. His smile turned nearly devious and his eyes had a twinkle to them, as if he was forcing them to stay on her face. “That wasn’t an attempt but I’ll take it if it worked.”
She hummed.
“It didn’t,” she stated plainly, her smile only widening when his mouth dropped open. She held up the food. “Thanks for dinner!’
As she shut the door, he stumbled to keep her in his sights, rushing out a hasty, “You can call me John, by the way!”
The door was closed in his face the second the final word left his lips.
…
The November cold was more biting than she remembered. It sunk into her bones and snaked through her body, coating her marrow in the chilling breeze.
The cold always made her worry about the pigeons. She had gotten quite close to them in her time at this apartment. They had made it a habit to settle on her railing after she had started to feed them and slowly, her whole patio had been filled with plants and potential perches for them to find a home.
She loved it.
They were her way of unwinding after a stressful day and boy had she had one. Her parents were putting pressure on her for being single, her job had piled on extra work with only three hours to complete it and then, the cherry on top, she hadn’t slept for several days due to a neighbor getting a new car and feeling the need to rev the engine at 3 am every night.
And so, like a crazy bird lady, she was on her patio with a book in one hand and a collection of bird seeds in the other. The pigeons were practically purring around her as she took turns sprinkling the feed and just letting them munch on it directly from her hand.
She was finally about to be lost into the plot of the book when a voice interrupted her.
“Christ, it’s like a pigeon paradise,” came a shocked Scottish accent.
Her book snapped shut and her head whipped to the side with a glare. “Keep your judgment to yourself. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
Even she winced at the hostility in her voice. She didn’t mean to snap but her nerves were fried. She’d had to deal with enough negative interactions, even the risk of having another was exhausting to her.
Her battery was officially empty.
To John’s credit, he didn’t recoil at the attack. In fact, he leaned into it with a gentle once over of her patio before focusing back on her. “Neighbor’s get upset about them? They’re just little lads. If anythin’ I find their little coo’s soothin’.”
He strolled up to the railing closest to her patio and rested his elbows on it. He was still only in short sleeves, but his pants were more relaxed now, cargos replaced by sweats. Even his mohawk was messy, falling into his face and tousled when before it had been cleanly slicked back.
She shrugged, diverting her eyes.
“Mainly just my downstairs neighbor complains. But he doesn’t even use the patio.”
John nodded confidently, as if he was completely on her side. “Ah fuck ‘im. At least you aren’t revving your bloody engine every goddamn night.”
She couldn’t help but get fired up at the mention, her mouth moving before her brain could catch up. “Right? God, that asshole hasn’t let me sleep in days!”
His chuckle was deep and oddly calming. More guilt settled in before he could even finish laughing.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she meekly admitted, her fingers playing with the pages of her book.
He brushed off her apology with a wave of his hand. “Takes much worse to wound me, dove. Bad day?”
With a sigh, her head tilted back to rest on her chair, her eyes slipping shut. “You could say that.”
“Want to talk about it?” he asked sincerely, which caught her by surprise and had her looking down at him.
“You want to listen?”
His shrug was easy, unbothered. “My work sometimes has me sittin’ in silence for hours. I’ll take human interactions whenever I can get them.”
Her laugh was quiet. “Oh, so I’m a way for you to get a fix?”
He was quick to respond, “Aye, and a way for me to get closer to a pretty bird. That’s a win-win scenario if I’ve ever heard of one.”
Her eye roll was large and dramatic. She scattered the remaining feed in her hand over the railing and the pigeons swarmed it as it fell to the ground.
“You just named two wins for you and none for me. I don’t think that’s what win-win scenarios typically mean.”
He smiled so wide his teeth flashed, his canines sharp. “Because I thought it was obvious. You get your own personal therapist and I get to stare at your pretty face. Fair trade don’t you think?”
This time her laugh was loud and breathless. “Wow you are relentless. Well as much as I appreciate your brave sacrifice to be my therapist,” she made a show of opening her book, “reading is my preferred therapy.”
He held up his hands in defense and backed off. “Totally respect that, dove.” She came close to calling out to him when he suddenly went back inside his apartment, the door still left ajar.
It only took a few seconds and then he was back, holding an unusual looking book in his hand.
And then he began moving towards the railing of his patio.
“Hey! Hey!” she yelled, jumping up from her chair when he began to crawl over his railing, scaling the gap between his patio to hers, and then firmly planting his feet directly in front of her. “Oh my god, are you insane?” she gasped as he stood before her with his cocky grin in place.
“Don’t ken what you’re talkin’ about. Lots of people read together.” He motioned to his book as if to make his point. She could see now that it was a chemistry-based book, the absolute last thing she had expected from him.
“That’s not…,” she began but trailed off, at a total loss of words. It looked like the embarrassed man that had run out on her was a rare occurrence, easily replaced by a sure and confident one.
She had let him off the hook much too soon.
With his book he pointed at the second chair that rested on her patio. “Mind if I take a seat?”
Oh, so now he was asking permission.
She sagged in defeat. “Yeah, I mean you’re already here so go for it.” She returned to her own chair and pointed at him aggressively. “But I better not hear a word from you. I like to read in silence.”
“Quiet as a mouse,” he whispered, his book already open with his eyes aimed at its pages. She wasn’t sure he was even reading.
But still he went silent and she supposed that was enough. She went back to reading away at her book, enjoying the cool air, her comfortable chair, and the company of another. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed that. Her friends had all been so busy recently that it’s been quite some time since the last time she was able to just be with someone.
It was nice, even if not completely invited or consentual.
They were able to read together for a while, close to an hour if she had to guess, before she began to feel his gaze fidgeting over her face. She tried her best to ignore it, mainly because it wasn’t out of boredom. At least she thought. The rest of his body was entirely still save for his eyes that would jump to her from time to time.
So she continued to read until he spoke quietly, “Is reading your favorite hobby?”
Without looking up from her book, she nodded. “It’s one of my hobbies.”
He hummed, deep and gravely. It tickled her brain.
Despite answering his question, his eyes never left her face and she began to think reading time might be over.
Still, she persisted, making sure to not look up when she asked, “Anything else you’re itching to ask?”
“You live by yourself?” he immediately threw at her. That got her eyes to look at him with concern and skepticism. He hurried to add, “Not askin’ for nefarious reasons! Just wonderin’ if yer man might not like me bein’ here with you.”
Her eyes rolled with a scoff, attempting to come off annoyed but the smile on her lips betrayed her.
“Oh my god, you’re unbelievable,” she said with an astonished tone.
His smile was devilish, bright against his tan skin. He folded his book together with one hand and leaned forward till his elbows rested on his knees. “C’mon now dove, I’m an honest man and I think you already knew that.”
Her scoff was dramatic. “Yeah you’re very up front with who you are, aren’t you? Let me guess,” she pointed towards his book, “you aren’t even reading that book. You just wanted to try and seem impressive by reading chemistry shit.”
He opened his mouth, as if to deny, and then continued, “You’re not wrong but not in the way you think.”
“Sure, sure,” she drew out with an exaggerated nod.
Holding up his book to ensure she could make out the cover, he explained, “I technically wasn’t readin’ but only because I’ve already read this one. It’s old news to me.”
“Okay,” she said, slapping her book shut. “Let’s say I believe you. Why are you reading a book on chemistry? For fun? Work? Not to judge but you don’t look like the,” she gestured loosely towards him, “chemist type.”
He jerked back in mock offense. “What? Chemist’s cannae have dashing good looks?”
“Chemists,” she emphasized before gazing at his exposed skin, “don’t typically come covered in scars and have an army tattoo.”
“Ooch,” he muttered, drawing his arms close momentarily, his hands running over the collection of raised skin across his arms. And then he deflated, his body admitting defeat before his voice could. “Fair enough. I specialize in demolitions in my team. Understanding chemical compounds and how they interact is important for my job.”
Holy shit. This man was actually smart.
She supposed she didn’t hide the shock well on her face because John laughed at her reaction.
“Don’t worry. I think the mohawk throws most people off,” he said with a chuckle, leaning back in his – well really it was hers – chair with a smug smile on his face.
She continued to stare in amazement. “Oh no. I was judging you solely based on your cocky and laissez-faire attitude.”
John shrugged. “You have t’be confident and cool to do what I do successfully.”
“Alright,” he was enjoying this too much for her liking, she had to shut it down, “aren’t you not supposed to be telling me this stuff? Why don’t we both just go back to reading so I don’t have to listen to your ego grow by the second.”
“Let’s talk about you then,” he was quick to suggest, maybe a little too eager even.
Opening her book and feigning to read the words, she began, “Well compared to your life, mine is utterly uninteresting. Nothing much to say.”
He shook his head, “Nonsense! You don’t have a boyfriend which is very interesting to me. And-.”
She cut him off.
“Here’s the thing, John. I’m flattered, really, but I’m not interested in hook-ups or whatever it is you’re aiming for. That’s not really my speed. So if you’re just trying to get in my pants,” her hand swiped in the direction of his patio, “please crawl back over to your patio and leave me to my book and my pigeons.”
Refusing to look up, even when he left her sitting in silence without moving, she turned the page of her book in hopes of hammering her point home. She let him sit in the silence he created before she heard him rock back and forth in his chair and then stand.
That got her eyes on him as he stood facing her, his lips pursed and thick brows furrowed.
Eventually he clasped his hands in front of himself and stood square, a pose that almost made her laugh with its similarity to a militant stance.
With a sniff, he said, “I’m not just chattin’ with you in hopes of a hook-up. I think it’d just be nice to have a friend back home. Might make me excited to get back from ops.”
Dammit, that was sweet.
She hesitantly raised an eyebrow. “So then asking if I’m single was…?”
He broke his stance to rest his hands on his hips.
“Don’t misunderstand, Dove. I’d snatch you up in a heartbeat if you let me. But if you just want to be friends,” a shrug, “I’ll take tha’ too.”
She considered his words and how genuine they sounded, hating how easily she found herself believing every word that left his lips. Especially when those blue eyes were all big and bright while he pouted at her.
With a sigh, she rose from her chair and patted his chest with her book. “Alright John. We can be friends. But cool it with the flirting.” She shot a warning glare his way before walking to her patio door. “Now go home. I’ve heard enough of you for today.”
His smile stretched until his eyes crinkled adorably. He offered an extremely official looking solute before gesturing to her door.
“Can I go through your apartment to get back to mine?”
She laughed, opening the patio door only enough for her to fit through. “Nice try. See you later John.”
And then she shut the door, leaving him out on her patio alone.
She could hear a muffled, “Catch you around Pidge!” but chose to ignore it. What he said now was no longer her problem.
At least for today.
…
Dogs ran around her in droves, but she paid special attention to the bully with the dopey smile and the caramel colored coat. He wasn’t the brightest, and also not hers, but she had fallen in love with him the first time she walked him for Mrs. Shurst and she’d be damned if anything happened to him.
So she watched the dogs play about with one another with careful eyes, trying her best to ignore the ever-growing chilly weather as she sat on the old wooden bench.
And then there was a large body sitting next to her, uncomfortably close considering the relatively wide bench.
A grimace overtook her face as her head snapped to the side, her mouth already open and ready to ask for some space. That is until her eyes landed on the face of a scruffy, Scottish man. He wasn’t looking at her and instead was smiling fondly at the dogs, one arm draped across the top of the bench.
The grimace remained but she tampered down her bite when she said, “I don’t see you in a month and the first thing you do is crowd me like a creep?”
His eyes, even brighter in direct sunlight, glanced at her briefly before going back to the dogs. His smirk revealed just enough of his sharp incisor.
“Keepin’ track of when I’m away from you, eh Pidge?”
Pidge?
He had said that last time as well.
“What the fuck is pidge?” she asked with confusion, bending her brows.
“Pidge is you,” he said simply, tapping her on the shoulder with his hand that reached around her back.
“Pidge is certainly not me,” she argued, validly so, considering it was definitely not her name.
“Oh, but it is to me,” he drawled out with a grin, finally turning his face fully to look at her. “And only me. You dinnae ken this but nicknames are my comfort zone.”
A breeze raked a chill through her body and she leaned back into the warmth of John’s arm despite herself. Gratefully, he didn’t say anything but his arm did shift closer to her shoulders.
“I’ve heard you call me a few,” she thought aloud absently. “But I haven’t heard any for you. And no offense, John’s a bit basic. What about Johnny? That’s much more fun.”
A strange flicker of something flashed behind John’s eyes at the nickname, something deep and pensive.
“Aye,” he said after an eerily amount of time for the man, “You can call me Johnny. ‘M not called that as much as Soap though.”
“Soap?”
She thought she heard him wrong.
He nodded. “Means I’m clean with it, good at my job,” he said with a wink as he leaned in close.
Rolling her eyes, a dog yelped and immediately drew her attention back to the playing pack. It seemed a smaller dog had gotten a bit too confident and was put in his place only to run back to his mom.
“So which one’s yours then?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the remaining animals.
“Hmm?” He looked confused before he leaned back against the bench and followed her gaze. “Oh, I don’t have a dog. Wouldn’t really make sense with my work schedule.”
She perked up at his answer. “You don’t have a dog? What are you doing here then? You know that ups your creep factor by like 50 percent right?”
“Promise it’s just a coincidence,” he defended easily, clearly not very worried by her accusations. “I sometimes go on walks around the apartment complex, soothes my jitters,” he patted his knee with his free hand, “and always pass by here. There’s a really well trained German Shepherd that I see from time to time. Reminds me of one I knew. And then I just happened to see you and figured I’d join ya.”
He looked her up and down, eyes zeroing in on the leash in her hands. “What about you? Didn’t think you had a dog. Would scare off all of the pigeons.”
She pointed towards the bully that was currently trying his best to make friends with a smaller, sassier dog.
“I walk Taffy over there for a neighbor from time to time. She sometimes has bad health and hates not being able to take him outside so she summons me and I take it from there.”
She gave herself a few more seconds of enjoying Taffy playing with his friends before realizing that John had been quiet for way too long. Looking at him, she saw he had a soft smile on his face and even softer eyes as he stared at her.
It made the hairs raise on the back of her neck.
“What?” she asked, mildly uncomfortable to be viewed so intently by the man.
He shrugged off the discomfort in her voice, still holding such a pleasant and relaxed look.
“Just awfully nice of you,” he hummed and went back to watching the dogs. “Taffy the one with the massive head?”
Pidge laughed, unable to help herself. “Yeah, he is. With the big and empty smile too. He’s a sweet boy.”
She practically knew what John was going to say before it left his lips. “What do I have t’ do for you to talk about me like that?”
“John,” she warned, shooting him a glare from the corner of her eyes.
He didn’t care at all, as happy as ever to have gotten a rise out of her.
And then Taffy was beginning to play a bit too chaotically and she figured it was a good time to leave. Standing with a huff, she called him over and Taffy dutifully came running to her side.
She looked at John with a smirk as she clicked the leash back onto Taffy’s collar. “I’ll talk to you like that when you’re as well trained as Taffy.”
There was a gleam of a challenge in John’s eyes at the comment. He stood from the bench to stand before her, smile as sharp as ever but his eyes were more serious than she expected.
“Lass, I’m a soldier. I’m as well trained as they come.”
Pidge had to look away from the intensity of his stare. She hated it, how deeply she felt exposed when he really looked at her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her like that.
“Well, it was nice chatting Soap,” she breathed out before heading straight for the gated exit.
As expected, John easily kept up with her, even opened the gate for her so she could slip through with Taffy and closed it behind himself.
And also to no surprise he continued to walk by her side as she made her way back towards her apartment.
“Have you always lived here?” he asked after a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence.
When another sharp wind ruffled her hair and rosied her cheeks, John slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders without another word.
She thanked him quickly before responding, “In England? No, I moved here when I was fourteen.”
“Would explain the accent,” he thought aloud.
“And I’m assuming you’re here because of work?” she threw back, eager to get the conversation away from herself.
He didn’t mind the conversation shifting to him, if anything he enjoyed it. “I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear I’m from Scotland. And yeah, the base I ship out of isn’t too far from here. And I need to be able to be there as fast as I can.”
She huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Och, how long are you going tae hold that over my heid?” he nearly groaned, his broad shoulders slumping.
Laughing louder, she shoved him a bit and instantly silenced when he barely budged. Maybe that’s what it meant to be a brick house.
“I think I have every right to hold it over your heid . That might actually be the most disrespectful thing anyone has ever done to me.”
He dramatically rolled his eyes. “And now she mocks my accent,” he muttered grumpily. “What if I told you lives were on the line? That change anythin’?”
Deep down, as she assessed his features, she knew he was telling the truth despite his playful grin. Still, she refused to give it to him.
“Can you prove that lives were on the line?” she interrogated like a school teacher questioning a student.
His mouth opened and then subsequently shut, a small pout gracing his lips as he looked away from her and grumbled out a stiff, “No.”
She shrugged, continued forward and said, “Then my broken eggs were more important. And my scraped hands and bruised tailbone.”
He whipped back around to look at her so quickly she nearly stepped back in shock. Before she could, he was grabbing her free hand and tugging it to his face so he could assess the skin on her palm. “Shite, I didnae know you got hurt,” he quietly said before he could really look at her.
“John,” she said calmly, finding it a bit cute how concerned he was despite the obvious, “That happened weeks ago. I’d be a bit concerned if you could still see the marks.”
And she knew he could see that, staring so intently at her blemish free hands, not even a scratch in sight.
He was quick to drop her hand, a bashful smile over taking his lips when he scratched at the back of his neck.
“Right. Still, I’m sorry. I didn’t think to ask the first time we spoke.”
She brushed his apology off. “Don’t worry about it. I just like to complain. Really I was more upset about the groceries anyway.”
The sound of the click of his tongue drew her eyes to his face only for him to poke her right between her brows and force her to stumble back a few steps.
“Then let me off the hook, you bloody Nyaff.”
She held her hand over the spot he touched, offense blatant on her face.
“You-!” she began but her words died in her throat.
At the exact moment she went to speak, Taffy had spotted a particularly interesting squirrel and had decided to charge at it in a full sprint.
Pidge’s hand, which was still gripping his leash tightly, refused to let go as he began to run, resulting in Taffy taking her with him much faster than she could prepare for.
It all happened too fast she wasn’t sure how he even pulled it off.
One second she was tumbling forward and completely losing her footing, and the next a hand was wrapping around her waist and tugging her up right. The sudden jerk had the leash flying out of her hand and she couldn’t even check to see where Taffy had run off to because in the next breath, she was being held impossible close to the firmest and warmest body she’d probably ever felt.
He was holding her so tightly he was practically lifting her up and into him by the hand on her waist, his fingers splayed out as far as they could go like they were afraid she’d slip through them.
Holy shit were his hands large.
There was a brief moment where she didn’t want to move, instead hoping to leech off his heat and soak in the steady sound of his heart beating in his chest only inches from her ear, but then she remembered Taffy and she turned as much as possible to try and search for the run away dog.
‘Run away’ used lightly because Taffy was a mere two feet away, still staring intently at the squirrel who was ballsy enough to have not moved from his previous position.
How?
She followed the view of the leash to see it was now being held in John’s free hand, slack now that Taffy seemed to understand he would not be going anywhere without the large man’s permission.
“You alright?” came John’s deep, Scottish voice from much closer than Pidge had ever heard it.
She turned her head upwards and found herself mere inches away from John’s own face which was filled with concern. At asking the question, he subconsciously tugged her a bit tighter, her body shaping to his.
Words failed her for a moment, her mouth floundering as she tried to recover but it was impossible to think with those gorgeous blues far too close than she was prepared for.
She had to shove herself away from him to collect herself. Only then was she able to at least force out something.
“Yeah, sorry. He doesn’t normally pull suddenly like that. Thank you for catching him.”
Pride began to seep in his words now as he nonchalantly said, “Dinnae worry about it. Dogs are unpredictable after all. Plus the squirrel was a right dickhead.”
She appreciated the last comment, it forced a laugh out of her and she found it easy to breathe again.
“Look at him,” she motioned a hand towards the little bugger, “He doesn’t even care that he nearly broke my nose.”
John chuckled, leaning into the bit, “I’d say that was his end goal. Taffy was just defending your honor. And I’d never let that happen.”
“Uh huh, yeah,” she softly excused, “Because the army has hardened you and your reflexes are sharp as a knife now or something?”
Her head lolled to the side when again, he was slow to respond. She almost checked in on him out of concern when he responded in a slow cadence, “Sure. That certainly helps.”
Confusion warped her face but he didn’t let her get a word in. He was walking ahead of her with Taffy by his side, leaving her to catch up with him.
He sure liked leaving her hanging.