Based on a prompt I can no longer find that was something like “You run by my house every morning and I make sure I’m outside every morning to see you”.
This is a little plot bunny that I couldn’t get out of my head. It was supposed to be a little ficlet but somehow turned into an 11 page monster. Pure fluffyness. Hope you enjoy!
Emma focused on the rhythmic tapping of her feet against the pavement as they fell into synch with the beat of the song blaring in her headphones. The sun wasn’t yet up, the sky the quiet, pale grey of a city not yet awake. She loved running at this time, before the cars and the pedestrians littered the streets, when it was just her and her music and the comforting ache of her muscles and the adrenaline in her veins as she kept a steady pace.
She’d taken a new route today, weary of following her usual run through the park after she’d noticed Walsh had started to frequent her favorite path. She’d seen him, dressed like he was out for a run - though Emma knew he never did anything remotely physical if he could help it - standing by a bench, looking desperately like he was waiting for someone to show up. Nope, Emma thought. She was not dealing with that.
She’d found her way into a small cul-de-sac she didn’t recognize. The streets all had annoyingly charming names like “Pleasant Avenue” and “Sunrise Crescent”. She didn’t worry too much about getting lost, sure that she could always just rely on google maps should she lose her way.
As kitchy as the street names were, Emma found herself quite enjoying this new road she’d found herself on. While the park was familiar and comforting, it ran the risk of encountering other runners. Mostly they kept to themselves, offering a friendly nod or wave but there was always the chance of meeting a Chatty Cathy who was desperate for a running buddy or some musclehead in a muscle shirt who saw this as an opportunity to flirt with anything in yoga pants. But here, she was completely alone. She made her way past the houses, most of them stand-alone older, victorian style buildings painted in bright colours and she caught herself smiling peacefully. It was like a little slice of the past in a big city. It was almost… charming.
“Shit!” Emma cursed as she felt the sharp pinch on the sole of her foot. Grudgingly, she slowed and eventually stopped her steady pace, grumbling as she crouched down and reached for the laces of her shoes so she could fish out the offending rock that must have found its way inside.
As she fumbled with the too-tight knot, she was surprised by the appearance of a truck as it rolled along beside her and pulled into the drive of the house across the street from where she knelt. She hadn’t heard it approaching over her music and almost rolled her eyes as her roommate’s voice rang in her ears, warning her not to listen to her music so loud. ‘You’ll get hit by a bus one of these days!’ Mary Margaret was fond of warning her.
She paused, having just wormed her shoe off her foot as she noticed the man getting out of the cab of the truck. He didn’t seem to have noticed her - not surprising as she was crouched on the curb across the street - but she noticed him. Damn did she notice him. She watched as the dark haired man made his way around the front of the truck before coming to the bed to untie a tarp that had been laid across it. He was handsome, Emma thought, not that she was looking. His hair was dark and so were his brows but he had a ginger scruff lining his cheeks and jaw. She watched as the muscles in his shoulders flexed under his t-shirt as he pulled the tarp back out of the way.
He looked over then, suddenly seeming to notice her and Emma panicked, immediately turning back to her shoe, shaking the rock out and slipping it back on to her foot. He’d been to far away for her to see the actual colour, but his eyes had been insanely bright - bright enough to be noticable across a street.
She looked back, curious - only to know what was in the back of the truck she convinced herself. As she peeked up at him, she saw that he had taken out a wooden crate with flowers inside. She was surprised. She didn’t know what she’d expected the handsome stranger to take out of his pickup truck at 5 in the morning but it definitely wasn’t flowers.
She kept watching, she couldn’t seem to stop, as he rested the crate on the metal frame of the truck before suddenly his eyes flickered back to hers. He held her gaze for a second, less in an intentional way and more in a deer-in-the-headlights kind of way, his cheeks going bright red in a way that was both boyish and incredibly attractive. Emma felt her own cheeks flame as she forced herself once again to focus on her task and finished lacing her shoe.
She waited, wondering if she should look again, maybe offer a smile or say hello. He was attractive and it had been a while since Emma had flirted with someone. Not since Walsh and boy was he a mistake. She’d been nothing but clear about her intentions but he had taken the flirting and the drinks and the casual sex as a sign of a serious relationship and that was the last thing Emma wanted and now she was left to deal with a quasi-stalker. But this was different. Meeting an attractive man carrying flowers while she was out for a run wasn’t the same as meeting someone at a bar and going back to his place. No this, this had all the makings of a meet-cute and Emma was not looking for some silly romantic encounter. But still, she found herself glancing up.
The man had lifted the box fully out of the truck now and she imagined he’d be heading into the house with it. She allowed herself to let her eyes rake over the lean lines of his profile. He paused then. Almost like he’d felt her watching him and she saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, like he was worried she would notice. When he saw her looking back, he straightened, standing a little taller. He turned to face her and offered her a small smile before raising his hand to offer her a little wave…. And dropping the contents of his flower box onto the pavement at his feet.
He scrambled, fumbling to catch the box as it tilted sideways and Emma noticed for the first time that there was a prosthetic that ended in an intricate, metal hook where his left hand should be. She watched as he knelt down, scooping the soil back into the box, straightening the flowers all the while casting her frantic, horribly embarrassed, wide-eyed looks. Emma caught herself smiling as she watched the scene take place. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at his embarrassment, but rather - there was something… utterly charming about the whole exchange. And, not for the first time that day, Emma thought that she didn’t mid charming quite so much.
The man seemed to understand her amusement and his expression changed from one of humiliation and panic to friendly commiseration. She couldn’t hear it, but she saw him huff out a small laugh as he shrugged his shoulders at her. “What can you do?” he seemed to say. Emma smiled and for a second, she debated going over to help him clean up the mess but she thought better of it. Charming was never a good idea, as attractive as the prospect may be. Instead, she double checked the knot on her laces, stood up, and cast him a final glance, lips still curled in a half-smile, before she took off down the road again.
