CW: Literally none, this is tooth rotting fluff, you might wanna die
Word Count: 2,577
Summary: You don’t have a car and find a help wanted add posted by Karin asking for someone to date Lars to get him out of his shell in exchange for a car. Your first meeting with him goes unexpected.
A/N: This is completely inspired by @finnestra’s post about the ad, which made me laugh so hard I had to just write it myself. This is also my first One Shot I’ve ever written, so apologies! Please comment if you want more parts to this because I absolutely will do it don’t threaten me with a good time.
The winter air flowed through your lungs with a harsh bite as you inhaled, threatening to freeze your lungs solid. When you exhaled, a thick fog of condensation fell from your lips and twirled away into the dull gray sky. You shivered and drove your hands deeper into your coat pockets; your fingers quite literally felt like they were going to snap off if they were exposed to the cold for any longer. Your heavy snow boots stomped through the slush below your feet as you hurried home.
You’d been making dinner for yourself in your cozy little cottage when you realized you were missing a key ingredient for your recipe. So, with a sigh, you’d pulled on all your winter gear and braved the freezing outdoors to hurry down to the small supermarket down the block. The whole journey had you deeply questioning your life choice of not buying that cheap old sedan you’d seen in the newspaper a few weeks ago.
Unfortunately, working as a barista at the town’s local coffee spot hadn’t proven to yield much money, at least not enough to afford transportation. Fortunately, it was a small area and everything needed to survive was within walking distance. It just meant you had to suffer.
Your stomach gave a panicked jolt as your foot slipped in the snow and the grocery bag in your arms fell to the icy ground with a muffled thump. Once you felt confident that you weren’t going to fall, you let out a curse and bent down to pick up the paper bag before the food inside could be ruined beyond repair. As you straightened, a paper flying in the wind caught your eye. It was stapled into a phone pole before you.
On the damp page was a large black and white photo of a shy looking man. The photo looked like it had been taken without his knowledge, as he sat at a kitchen table engrossed in a small puzzle, his eyes downcast. He had carefully combed brown hair and a mustache on a slightly round face, and was clad in a brown sweater with a white shirt and tie peeking up above it. You had to admit, he was quite cute in an innocent sort of way.
Below the photo were big black letters typed in all caps:
NEED A CAR? “DATE” MY BROTHER-IN-LAW
Below that, smaller text:
He’s smart. But socially very shy. “Date” him and bring him out of his shell. In exchange, we’ll give you a 2004 Buick Regal. Clean, rust-free, 40k miles.
A small laugh bubbled up in your throat at the hilarity of the ad. You wondered how the brother-in-law in the photo felt about this.
You then frowned, eyes scanning over the words detailing the car.
A free car, basically? You wouldn’t have to suffer on freezing walks anymore while letting out every curse in your vocabulary. And he was cute. You could deal with shy; you talked enough for two people according to previous failed dates.
Glancing around to see if anyone was near, you quickly snatched the ad off the pole and shoved it into your wet grocery bag.
What could go wrong?
You stared at the old computer monitor before you, biting a lip between your teeth. A drafted email blinked up at you on the screen, waiting to be sent off into the void. All you had to do was press send. It read:
Hello,
My name is (Y/N). I saw this ad and was very interested in the car you mentioned, as right now I do not own one and have to walk everywhere (which is the worst thing imaginable in the winter). I’d love to discuss the arrangement further, if possible. Let me know.
Kindest regards,
(Y/N)
Blowing out a raspberry, you hit send and quickly stood up to get away from the screen. You hoped they replied quickly, as you had a shift at the coffee shop the next evening and the weather report predicted a raging snowstorm rolling in.
You paced restlessly in your small kitchen, wiping down the counter and putting away dishes. About thirty minutes later, your computer gave a small ping, signaling an incoming notification. You nearly tripped over your own feet to sit down in front of the monitor and opened the new message sitting in. your inbox.
Hi (Y/N),
I have to be honest, I’m a little shocked someone actually reached out. You’re right, the weather here is awful right now, and it sounds like we could really help each other out.
My brother-in-law’s name is Lars. He is very shy and it’s like pulling teeth to get him to talk to anyone, but you sound nice enough.
Do you work at the local coffee shop? I feel like I may have heard of your name around town. If I’m thinking of the right person, I think you’d be great getting Lars to open up. Just one thing, he hates being touched physically, but really is the biggest sweetheart.
Are you available to come by tomorrow around noon? You can meet Lars and take a look at the Buick.
Sincerely,
Karin
He didn’t like physical touch? Well, that wasn’t a problem. You never kissed on the first date anyway. You quickly sent a reply off, asking for the address and letting Karin know you’d be there at noon the next day.
The next day, you stood in front of a white garage next to the main house, its paint peeling and in desperate need of a touch-up. You’d just come from meeting Karin, where she told you a little bit about Lars and showed you the car. She insisted on you meeting him alone, as he would absolutely loathe Karin if he found out about the ad.
You knocked on the door softly, taking extra precaution not to sound too urgent. There wasn’t an answer for a minute or so, but you did see a curtain twitch in the window.
Just when you thought about turning back to head back to the main house, the door cracked open, wide enough to only show Lars’s eyes and nose through the opening. You smiled softly at him.
”Hi, Lars, right? My name is (Y/N). I ran into Karin and she was telling me about you, thought we’d get along well.”
Lars didn’t move. In truth, he had definitely seen you around town, walking in the slipper snow to and from the local coffee spot. He’d always secretly thought you were pretty and wanted to stop and give you a ride, but chickened out every time. After all, why would someone looking the way you do ever want to bother with someone like him? He couldn’t believe you were standing at his door right now. It was too good to be true.
”D-did Karin put you up to this?” He spoke softly, still not opening the door wider.
You shrugged. You didn’t want to lie to him, so you settled on a half-truth instead. “A little bit, yes. But I also thought you sounded really nice and…” You trailed off, searching for the right words. “I thought you could use a friend.” You found yourself genuinely believing the words flowing from your mouth. You smiled at him again, hoping to put him at ease.
He said nothing. Usually he hated when people tried to get close to him, like they pitied him and wanted to feel good about themselves. But for some odd reason, he wasn’t feeling that familiar spark of irritation he usually did.
You mistook his silence for anger and laughed in embarrassment, shuffling a toe in the snow. “Ugh, I’m sorry. This is rude, just showing up like this. We can just forget this ever happened if you want and I’ll give you free coffee for the rest of your life to make up for it.” You were rambling, the way you always did. It was the thing that seemed to make dates no longer interested in you. You began to turn to leave.
”Wait.”
You looked back over your shoulder and Lars opened the door wider. Your eyebrows rose up in surprise. He was tall. Very tall. His head almost brushed the top of the doorframe. And his hands, God his hands. He had one planted on the doorframe, as if he were holding himself back from running after you. It was huge, like a bear paw. He was wearing a flannel over a thermal undershirt with jeans, looking every bit like a lumberjack straight out of a novel.
He breathed heavily into the cold air, a puff of steam blowing out before him, and glanced up at the main house before returning his blue eyes back to you. You faced him again.
“Do you maybe…want to come in for some tea?” He smiled slightly under his mustache and shifted nervously on his feet.
Heat warmed your chest at that smile. You were positive it was the cutest one you’d ever seen on a man. “I’d love to.”
He looked down shyly and shuffled back to make room for you, and you entered the small garage apartment. As you passed him, you caught a faint whiff of woodsmoke mixed with some kind of earthy cologne.
Suddenly, he was removing your coat from your shoulders gently, taking extra care not to brush the skin on your neck. He hung it reverently on a nearby hook near the door, next to his own coat. The sight of them next to each other felt strangely domestic. You blushed at the chivalrous act and smiled up at him in thanks.
The tips of his ears turned pink and he nodded once before heading to the small kitchenette to prepare tea, shuffling a bit like a penguin. The sight was very endearing in a cute way.
Before moving any further into the apartment, you removed your snow boots and carefully set them on the rug next to the door. Lars watched you with fascination.
You’d cared enough about his space to remove your shoes. No one had ever really done that, Gus and Karin included. It was such a small gesture, but it made his heart thump in an unfamiliar way.
You took a look around the room, noting the single twin bed in the corner with a small blanket folded neatly on top of it, a black wood furnace that burned heartily, the small table with two rickety chairs, and a modest bookshelf stacked with different books, their spines facing out.
It was a cozy space, simple but clearly catered to the tall man’s personality. He clearly liked things neat, something you both had in common.
Lars was at the counter, clumsily steeping two teabags into mismatched mugs. His hands shook slightly, likely from nerves. After all, from what Karin had told you, this was completely unfamiliar territory for Lars. You felt your heart bloom with warmth that he was letting you into his space. It was intimate.
”Is it okay if I look?” You asked, pointing at the bookshelf. Reading was a massive hobby for you, and you were eager to learn more about Lars’s personality based on what was on the shelf.
He nodded, watching you carefully.
You perused the spines, eyes traveling down each spine. There were a lot of religious books, which didn’t surprise you. Karin had told you how Lars never missed a church devotional each Sunday. There were also some old fantasies, westerns, poetry, and even a couple of books on birds. On the top shelf, some of the book collection was broken up by small carvings of birds, whittled from wood. Your eyes brightened.
”These are beautiful. Did you make them?”
Lars nodded shyly, then, “Yeah.”
You examined the furthest one on the left, instantly recognizing the feathers’ formation and the beak. Your father had been an avid birdwatcher before he passed away and had always taken time to teach you about the different birds he observed while you sat on his lap as a child.
”This is a Goldfinch, right?” You asked with a smile while pointing at the carving in question.
A pleasant warmth rolled through Lars. You were talking to him about. his interests like he was an actual person and not just someone to try and help. And you knew birds. His heart did that funny jump again.
“You know birds?” He asked the question quietly.
You nodded enthusiastically and told him about your father, beginning to ramble about the memories associated with him and the birds. Lars listened with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving you and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about the subject. He realized he loved watching your hands gesture through the air as you talked.
He wanted to make you do it more.
Leaving the cups of tea to finish steeping on the counter, he approached you and the shelf slowly, testing each step for signs that you would shrink away. Again, you were startled at how much taller he was; your head only reached the bottom of his stubbled chin. His scent washed over you again, and you quietly inhaled it without thinking, as if you could hold it inside your lungs forever.
He picked the carving of the Goldfinch up carefully — it was tiny in his hand — and held it out to you. You smiled and took it, making sure not to brush his fingers with your own. As you examined the figurine more closely, he stared at you, taking in the way your hair fell over your cheeks and the smattering of freckles on your nose.
He abruptly longed to reach a thumb out and brush the hair away, which wasn’t like him at all.
”You can keep it, if you want,” he said with a small smile.
Your eyes widened. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take it. It looks too beautiful here, next to the others.” And you meant it. You carefully placed it back in its spot, shifting it exactly the way it was so that the weak sunlight shining in through the curtains could illuminate its feathers.
Again, Lars marveled at the respect you displayed for his personal possessions. As you hummed, satisfied that it was in the right place, he suddenly reached a thumb out and lightly, oh-so lightly, brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear.
He internally braced for pain and panic, but it never came. At least, not as intensely as it usually did when he felt touch.
Your vibrant eyes locked onto his, a blush spreading across those lovely freckles. Your heart pounded in your chest, racing like a prize horse. He was looking at you so tenderly, like you were his most treasured possession. No one had ever looked at you like that, and it startled you.
You inhaled sharply but quietly, and slowly rose up onto your tip toes. Your lips hovered over his cheek for a moment, waiting for him to jerk away. When he didn’t, you gently brushed them against his scruff, featherlight.
Lars went rigid at the fire on his skin. Not the painful kind, but a kind full of warmth and comfort. He felt like the sun itself had just kissed him.
And, for the first time in his life, Lars Lindstrom found himself wanting more. Wanting your touch. Wanting you.
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