Then Came You { a pedro pascal fanfiction }

Chapter Three

What did a forty-six-year-old man do on a Friday night? Obviously, that's a rather vague, and stereotypic question, not all men in their forties did the same thing. Some were married, some had kids, some were still reliving their twenties... So perhaps a better question was, what did the forty-six-year-old man who lived next door to me do on a Friday night?

I stirred the pot on the stove, shoving my sleeves up and exhaling sharply as I glanced over at the door.

I had come on too strong last time. That was my theory at least... He had been flirting, right? But then I touched him, batted my eyes at him like an obsessive twat and he pulled away.

I hadn't planned on getting close to anyone here, at least not this early on... I knew that, in a few years' time, I would be heading back to California and abandoning anyone who I had grown fond of here, just like I had done to everyone back home. But Pedro... he already spent half his time in California... and he was lovely. So soft, and warm, but witty and sharp at the same time. There was something about him that immediately put me at ease, but still managed to exhilarate.

I needed to take it slow, though, easy. Which was growing difficult considering how much of my brain space he was currently occupying.

I turned down the stove to low, cursing myself as I exited my apartment and stepped into the hallway. He had already invited me over to his... so this wasn't weird or too forward... at least I fucking hoped not, as I took a deep breath and knocked on his door.

He might not even be home, I thought in the split second after my fist left the wood, it's Friday night, surely, he has friends or maybe even a girlfriend--

My thoughts sputtered to a stop as I heard his voice echo on the other side of the wall.

"One second!"

I tapped my fingers against my thigh as I heard him shuffling around, until the lock clicked open and there he was, ruffling his hand through his dark curls, those warm brown eyes staring softly into mine.

"I don't have any eggs." He smirked, one side of his scruffy face crinkling up, a dimple emerging on his right cheek.

"I'm making soup... Well stew is probably more accurate. If you haven't already eaten half a sandwich from the deli, do you want to eat with me?" I asked, pointing down the hall toward my apartment.

"Absolutely." He nodded eagerly, sending my body aflame, "I never turn down a home cooked meal. Let me just grab my keys."

He turned around, stepping into his living room and swiping his keys from the coffee table.

I took a step back to give him room to lock the door, resisting the urge to lean toward him and take in a hearty breath of his cologne— musky sandalwood and pine, warm cotton. He smelled like a fucking dream.

"You know, you should really get into the habit of locking your door, even when you're still in the building." He said, turning his head toward me briefly as he double checked that his door was locked before shoving his keys into his pocket.

"None of the furniture is mine, who cares if someone steals it." I shrugged as we walked down the hall side by side.

He shook his head, "Fair point, but not everyone breaks in to steal things."

"Aw, are you worried about me, Pedro?" I teased, cursing myself immediately after, I was going to come on too fucking strong again...

"I am, actually. Yeah." He nodded as I opened the unlocked door to my apartment, "You're like an episode of SVU waiting to happen."