Work Text:
The first time Ed sees the guy who moved in at the end of the road, he is wrestling a package — his new, ergonomic desk chair — out of his hedge, where the delivery person had thrown it, seemingly to make his life as difficult as possible. To make matters worse, it had rained and the soggy box is choosing to tear instead of just budging. If the eight hours of sitting per day hadn't done his back in already, this was definitely going to do it.
The blond man is in some sinfully tight running leggings and regrettably baggy short-shorts as he power-walks past Ed toward the park at the back of their neighborhood, tossing a polite wave his way.
The second time, he is dressed similarly, and Ed is similarly occupied — this time it's a huge box of cat litter that Ed is praying hasn't become so soaked that the litter inside has started to clump. This time, the man also gives a bright smile as he passes.
The third time, it's a bulk package of some weird energy drink of which he'd only meant to buy a six-pack. It mercifully made it onto his front stoop, but still managed to get drenched in one of the afternoon thunderstorms that were frequent this time of year. This time the cardboard packaging had not even tried to hold up, so Ed is hunched over awkwardly, cradling a precarious number of cans against his chest in an attempt to not have to make a second trip.
The blond man strides by at just that moment, a look of concern on his face morphing into an offer to help Ed get all the cans inside. Ed gratefully accepts, and together they haul all thirty-something energy drinks to his kitchen counter, where Ed's fluffy black cat is perched haughtily, knowing full well he shouldn't be up there.
"Oh, what a sweet kitty! What's their name?"
"Thanks. Uh, his name is Queenie. Like Drama Queen, 'cause he is one."
"Lovely to meet you, Queenie," the man says, scratching beneath the critter's chin. "I'm Stede."
"I'm Ed," Ed says, a bit embarrassed to have forgotten to introduce himself first before the cat.
"Good to meet you too, Ed. I'd better be off for my run, if I want to get back before the mosquitos eat me alive."
He smiles warmly and Ed responds with a "Thanks again for the hand. See you around, mate."
Ed determines not to be caught the same way again, and immediately places an order for a doorbell camera so he can remember to bring his packages in before it rains.
It takes him about an hour to unbox the camera and set it up when it arrives, and Queenie keeps him company on the front stoop as he works to drill the holes evenly and secure the camera to his door frame with some screws.
Eventually the job is done and he heads inside to fiddle with the app. About twenty minutes later he's making himself a PB&J — with too much PB and J for the bread he's got, just the way he likes it — when his phone vibrates and the sound of birds tweeting alerts him to motion outside his front door.
Stede is passing by on his usual afternoon trek to the park and has stopped to give Queenie a quick scratch, the cat having elected to stay lounging on the sunny concrete when Ed had gone inside.
Ed smiles as he watches Queenie stand up and arch against Stede's leg when he tries to walk away, causing the man to laugh and give up a few more head scritches before going on his way.
And so it went for the next few weeks. Ed stopped having to clean wet cardboard out of his hedges, and he got to watch his gorgeous neighbor spend a quality few minutes with his cat through the doorbell cam every afternoon. He very quickly figured out how Queenie likes his belly rubbed — and for how long he will allow it — and, Ed's favorite part, would coo sweet nonsense at him. He couldn't always catch every word through the medium-quality camera speaker, but it was endearing as all fuck.
The more Stede struts through the neighborhood in flattering exercise gear, babying his cat, the more Ed starts to wonder about the man — whether he's single (yes, if information from Agnes next door is anything to go by, and it usually is), whether he's queer (yes, if the vibes Ed got are anything to go by, and they usually are), and whether he wants to be Queenie's new stepdad (ok, Ed might be getting ahead of himself now).
He finds himself going to check his mail (something he'd normally forget for days at a time), watering his hedges (probably unnecessary, as he's never done it before in the four years he's lived here and it rains several days a week anyway), or, failing to find an unnecessary task to do when Stede came by, he just sits on his front stoop and contemplates the grass and shit (honestly pretty meditative, maybe he should've been doing this anyway). He doesn't do it every day, though — he's bad at routines, even with an extremely attractive incentive — and a lot of the time he just winds up watching the footage back on his doorbell app.
Stede in a golden yellow outfit telling Queenie he's a good boy. Stede in a royal purple getup asking Queenie how his day is going, and is he enjoying the sunshine. Stede in bright turquoise calling Ed handsome—
Hang on.
He hits replay on the short video saved in the app when the motion sensor was triggered and, yep—
"Who's a handsome fella, huh? Just like your papa. Don't tell him I said that, now. That's just between you and me."
Like, sure, he was mainly talking to the cat, but he'd definitely just called Ed handsome.
Ed hits replay again.
Stede was bent over to pet Queenie, so the camera wasn't getting the best view of his face, but Ed could swear Stede glanced up at the camera after he spoke.
Was it intentional? Was he trying to drop Ed a hint? Or was he nervous and only thought of the camera after he'd already said the words?
Either way, Ed has to do something about his crush now. Stede likes him back? Ed could have a hot, blond boyfriend? Or hot, blond hook-up? A hot, blond anything is a hell of a lot more than he expected from this quiet neighborhood of mostly retirees and a few young families.
Getting ahead of himself again.
He needs to make sure that's what Stede had meant and wasn't just being . . . fuckin'— overly complimentary or something.
Ed hits replay again and listens to Stede fawn over his goofy cat. "Yep, that's you! So handsooome and sweeeet. I bet the two of you get all the old ladies' attention around here, hm? Ok, I'll see you later, sweet boy."
Stede gives Queenie one last pat, straightens up, and goes on his way.
Ed's mind starts working on a trap. Well, a love trap. Or, like— whatever. A way to get Stede to come onto him a bit before Ed embarrasses himself by asking him out, only to find out he's fuckin' straight— No. Nope. No catastrophizing just yet, Anxiety.
His mind sifts through a number of scenarios where he can somehow fall into Stede's arms like a damsel in distress, or get Stede to fall into his, all warm and a bit sweaty from his run. . . He can't actually think too much about that or he'll never be able to look Stede in the eye.
He eventually decides to wing it. He's pretty good on his feet — brilliant, even. Downright tactical. He'll think of something on the fly. Can't ruminate over how a plan can go wrong if there's no plan. Ha!
The next time it isn't raining and it's time for Stede’s daily run, Ed makes sure he's outside, shirtless and a bit shiny from sunscreen and the muggy air, and finds some yard work to do — the tree out front could use a little pruning, he decides.
Makes sure Queenie is poised in the sunshine, looking glorious and perfectly pettable. He sits where Ed wants him and stays, as if he knows he's got an important job to do today.
Ed lops off a few low-hanging branches so it looks like he's already been working. He sees Stede coming down the sidewalk and all but shoves his head into the tree. Super nonchalant-like.
He's whistling some military march-sounding tune and really getting into it — high knees and everything, to warm up, probably — when he spots Queenie on the stoop and stops. "Oh, hello, beautiful boy!"
Yep, there's his moment.
"Just Ed is fine," Ed says, extricating himself from the tree in time to catch the expression that accompanies Stede's little sound of shock.
"Oh! Hello, Ed." Stede's eyes flicker over Ed in a way that could be innocent, and that just won't do.
Ed reaches up to let his hair out of the high bun he'd put it in and asks, "How's things, mate? The wife and kids and whatnot?"
"Um." Stede's eyes dart over his form again, seeming to linger a second or two around his stomach. Fuck yes. "Ex-wife is good. Kids are good. How did you. . .?"
Ed fluffs his hair a bit before finger-combing it back into a ponytail. "Just a guess. The only people around here our age tend to have families. Just thought, y’know-" Ed's brain finally processes what it had heard. Ex? "Ex?"
"Well, yes. We divorced last year. All for the best, truly," he rushes to explain. "And you? How is your. . .?"
"Ah, nah, just Queenie and me." The creature sidles up and rubs against Stede's leg at the mention of his name and Ed shoots him a psychic message, Fucking nailed it, mate.
Stede smiles and crouches to pet him. "Yes, he is quite lovely company, isn't he?"
"We're a lot alike, he and I." Ed smirks as Stede's ears seem to turn pink.
"So it would seem."
"So, if you ever, y'know, wanted some company on your walks or whatever." He winks and clicks his tongue as Stede smiles up at him. I could go on walks.
"I usually jog, but a walk could be nice now and then."
I could fuckin' . . . run, I guess. If I had to. If I was dying. Might die soon if I don't get Stede's- Well. "I could run."
Stede must hear the apprehension in his voice because he chuckles and says, "Actually, I think a walk would be just the ticket, today. Do you need to finish this, though?" He gestures at the scattered twigs Ed has trimmed from his tree.
"Nah, just wanted to be outside when you went by so you could call me handsome to my face this time." Stede's ears definitely go pink now, but Ed saves him from having to respond. "Just let me put Queenie in and grab a shirt."
Stede's eyes flicker over him once more as he gives an acknowledging hum. A sad, acknowledging hum, even.
Ed picks up Queenie and places him just inside his front door, grabbing his shirt from the little foyer table he'd tossed it onto. He gives the cat a whispered, "Cheers, bud," and tugs the shirt over his head. He skip-hops down the little path out to the sidewalk where Stede is waiting, and they go on a walk.