AU/Vaan/Ashe. Set in modern day.
Title: Wanted: Single Female.
Words: 4342
Rating: PG-13 for some slight language.
Summary: Ashe wants to be her own woman, not ride on the coattails of her father's wealth, so what she decides to do is look for a roommate, and live life away from the influence of her prestigious family.

---------------------------

Her eyes searched in the papers for a place to live, finding the section filled with promising accommodations--- from apartments to penthouses in decent neighborhoods to the center of the city. She was going to be independent for once, getting away from the shackles of her family estate, to actually finding a place of her own, without the benefits of wealth. This would mean that she would make her own money, by which she managed to procure a full time job working for a lovely older woman who designed the interior of homes; and by which, she had agreed to be the run-around girl for her. The work would pay somewhat decent by comparison, whatever it was, or what that meant. Ashe hadn't even thought about the money too much, trying really hard to make a clean slate out of things.

She decided this, first on a whim, but that she had seen many of her friends do the same things; and at the beginning, she had not considered such an idea to have any merit outside of her adulthood, comfortable living amongst her fifty-odd something rooms, lastly coming to a realisation that she hadn't even stepped foot onto half of them. She gave herself a little pat on the shoulder, at least mentally, because, being independent—running out on your own—she told herself—was to prove that she could do this without her father's money and constant back-up. She was nineteen years old, and her birthday was coming up in a month's time. Twenty. She took a deep breath, bit her lip and shuffled her bare feet which were sliding against the softest carpet in her playroom den. This was supposed to be her work room, but somehow—looking up—the walls had suddenly looked too much like a teenaged girl's final fantasy: pretty boys in various hairdos, stylish jeans too cut tight against their groin and classic black and white posters of dead actors. In the corner at the far end, there were a couple of machines that helped her exercise, though she usually liked to swim in the pool. Today, it was raining.

She released a sigh, returning to her paper, and was much too distracted for her own good. She sat upon a high stool padded with shiny red vinyl, something she wanted from some fifties magazine, that featured James Dean and Marilyn Monroe on the cover— attracted to the very vintage look of it, and though she thought that this was perhaps a bit spoiled of her to purchase—it was, in her mind, well deserved. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she scanned through the column, disregarding the laptop there on the counter, listening to the rain outside, fat droplets plopping onto the large window in a gentle rhythm. Her legs bare, wearing only a pair of shorts—hot pink, was a bit tight when she sat down; the top white and tied in a loose knot at the front right above her waist. When her eyes found something really interesting—where it said: looking for a single female roommate. Free parking. On the fifth floor. Am a student in desperate need of immediate help with rent. You get your own room. Very nice location, close to the University and many nearby stores and public transportation. Also close to the park, a ten minute walk. She decided that this would be it, taking note to read the price of her half of the rent, counting the utilities as well.

Uncurling her toes from the luxury of her carpet, she got up, stretched, her hand reached down to stifle a yawn as the paper landed on the counter she'd been leaning on. She pushed her almost too light hair back, pulling it up into a tight proper knot. She picked up a pen and circled the area, underlining the phone number. Reaching for her cell phone, she dialed the number, hoping that she wasn't too late—it did sound pretty good, wanting something very commonplace. Why would she want a penthouse or similar to it? Wasn't this whole pursuing independence was to get away from the wealth? That she would live a normal, common everyday life? To prove to her father that yes, for once, she could do it without his money, much to his detriment. Her head leaned over so—just enough that the phone lodged between her ear and shoulder to listen intently for the person on the other line to pick up. It rang for maybe, five times before she decided to hang up but just before a guy's voice yelled out, sputtering on the other side. Ashe could hear someone scrambling for the phone, dropped it, picking it up, dropped it again before he managed to sputter helplessly into the receiver's end.

"Oh god, shit, fuck! Damn. H-hello! Hello!? Hey don't hang up please!"

Ashe raised a brow. Ah. Potty mouth. She couldn't help but smile.

"Hello?" subconsciously, she bit her lower lip, "I'm calling about the apartment for rent?"

"Yes, oh yes, you're right! Yes. This is it." He said, too fast and almost breathlessly.

She waited. "Um. Is it still available?"

"Uh yeah, come on over if you want to take a look. I'm going to be here all day and all night."

He sounded as if he were running around, picking up stuff and placing things away.

"Okay, I'll be there. I'm Ashe. And who am I speaking to?"

"Uh. My name? Oh it's Vaan." It suddenly went quiet over on his end.

"All right, Vaan. How about in half hour?"

"Wow. That fast?" He muttered beneath his breath, and the noises started again—this time some bottles clinked and papers shuffled.

"Is that a problem?"

"N-no! Oh no! Please, just come on over. I'll be ready."

"Cool. See you soon."

She hung up. Her brows drew together in thought, looking back at the circled advertisement calculating the price range and how much she could afford. It wasn't too high, especially now that she has a job to pay for it and she was definitely adamant about not taking any cash from her father. He was, however not pleased with her decision and demanded at least to know where she would be taking residence and insisted that she at least have bodyguards planted outside every night. Ashe was not having any of that and the argument between her and her father had gone very bad, with him frustrated, perhaps raising his blood pressure; her demands to be independent without his help and she telling him quite plainly that she was ready for the world.

Recalling back into that incident, her father had told her that she wasn't ready for the world and her sharp retort was that how could she be ready if he kept coddling her? That was the end of that argument and he assented, giving in to her demands. And that meant no planting any body guards outside the apartment or place of residence she had told him---just when he was about to argue that point to her. She looked around her playroom, wishing that she wouldn't have to take as much as she could from her rooms—but as necessities go, she really had no choice, unless she wanted to really be bare bringing along only a piece of blanket and the clothes on her back. Ashe needed these things and when she had enough money, she would buy her own things, placing all the furniture she brought with her back to her original rooms. She just hoped the room she was going to rent out would be big enough, but she wasn't going to be ridiculously spoiled over it. One thing she was not, in comparison to some of her friends, was that she maintained the sensitivity to be aware of the perils of those who worked hard, born in families that were less privileged.

She took one of her raincoats out of the closet, which was hanging in the back-- deep within a very long walk in closet and that she would definitely miss, knowing very well that most places would most likely have something very small. It didn't matter, telling herself that these things would be good for her—to actually possess small amounts of material things around her, giving her the benefit of life outside of her expansive home. The mirror on the side revealed a young woman with a yellow almost too bright raincoat that ran down above her knees, the belt tied tight around her waist, and the legs and feet bare of shoes and proper pants. Grabbing a pair of boots she donned them quickly, assessing back at the image at the pair – very rubbery and fashionable. Considering the light rain outside and the fact that this was going to be a new experience, she was determined to make the most out of this adventure. And she hoped, very much so, to get along with the room mate. He sounded nice. Guy's have always sounded nice to her ears. She smiled at that, chucking it up to teenaged hormones. So it wasn't as if she was going to be alone too, for the benefit of her father's constant worrisome features, and to her guess—perhaps his health.

Ashe decided later, when she was in the car, the newspaper clipping on the passenger side that she'd stop at a local market to pick up a few things. Oh and gas. That much was true. Her eyes had almost popped out of their sockets as she saw the gauge was ridiculously low, the electronic display had blinked red; mentally kicking herself that she shouldn't have cut the wires to the speaker voice that reminded her how and where to turn and when she should pick up gas. Wasn't there a back-up to this? Ah yes, she breathed out a relief. There was always a backup gas tank to this expensive pile of heap. That was another thing---she grimaced, as she pulled into the gas station bearing large signs in pale neon, droplets against her window blurring the vision—that she would have to come up with the expenses of gas. Perhaps, public transportation or getting a bike to ride to work would do? She physically shook her head at the thought. Oh no. No. How would she be able to bring so many things on the bike? But the thought still clung to her mind and was beginning, despite herself to have some merit. Instead, while she waited to have her turn at the pump, she listened to the soft soothing sounds of the wipers clearing away the gentle downpour, cleanly and easily, repeating the process.

After the ordeal of getting gas, with her father's gas card, no less, the consideration of taking public transportation—meaning that would have to be in large part, the bus with other people. And she would definitely get a free bus pass if she kept up her studies at the university at night. School at night and work full time in the day. It was going to be a very promising adventure, even as the thought swirled in her mind, she paid attention to the street signs, looked for the numbers, turning into a parking lot. The building where she hoped her future apartment would be—lay close to the park, by not much of a walk and there was a small viaduct over a ways, which bridged over a small little lake. The environment showed much potential: trees aligned alongside the ten floored building; and the colour, though a bit old fashioned in the classic sense of rouge red and bricked high looking as if it were set in a different time.

She tried looking for the number of the parking space, for in her memory it was distinct that the there was free parking mentioned.

"Let's see…" she murmured, biting her lower lip as she pulled into the faded white painted lot marked fifty four, "This has got to be it," her eyes returned to the paper which clearly said the apartment's number. When the car was turned off, her eyes peered up at the fifth floor, glancing over at the various lights that brightened up the windows—some with blinds, some curtained while a couple of them indicated that there was no one home. "All right," she said to herself, "this is it."

Ashe grabbed the paper, stuffing it inside her shoulder bag, along with the cell phone--clicking everything shut. As she closed the door with the bump of her hip, clicked on the car's sensor; the rain poured over her head where she had donned a matched vinyl cap-- the wet ground squished noisily beneath her rubber boots. When she reached to the front of the building, searching for the number, her finger pressed the button and while waiting, the same guy who talked to her on the phone answered.

"Yeah?"

"It's Ashe. The person coming over to see the place?"

"You're kind of late."

She rolled her eyes, "I had to stop and get gas and there was traffic. Sorry."

He chuckled lightly, "I figured. That's fine. I was kind of hoping that you'd be a little late anyway."

She pursed her lips, "Okay. Well, are you going to let me in? It's raining out here."

"Oh. Shit. I'm sorry. Yeah. Of course!" He flustered, and a moment later, a noisy signal indicated her to open the door.

Immediately, she searched for the elevator, but found a note on the front in scrawled letters stating that it was in repair. She blinked. Looking up, Ashe saw a guy at one of the top floors by the staircase, looking down at her, "Hey! You're Ashe right? Um, the elevators broke. You're gonna have to climb it."

She gritted her teeth, smiling. "Good thing I didn't wear heels today."

"It's not so bad. Only five floors." He shrugged. She noted that he wore an arm less t-shirt, showing off his muscular broad shoulders.

As her gloved hand slid across the railing, climbing up the stairs she said, "No, it's not, but they're awfully long stairs. Um, so when is the elevator going to be fixed?"

"Don't know. It's been like that for a few weeks."

She stopped halfway up the third floor, her energy enabling her to climb faster without breathing too hard, "WHAT?!"

"Don't worry, it'll get done. This has never happened before. Come on." He urged.

"Can't wait." She said underneath her breath. How the hell was she going to be able to move in her furniture up five floors if the elevator wasn't fixed by then? When she was at the fifth floor, she could clearly see the guy's features: young, but not too young, perhaps younger than her, or maybe not. She wasn't sure, but in his eyes, there was a sense of old world maturity—as if he suffered a little; or maybe she had seen too many paintings of sad, lonely individuals staring back at her through the space of time. She usually just blamed it on the painter's depiction, and how they were able, without capturing modern-day photographs the way a person's eyes could capture their viewer—to display the emotion with such candor. She was wondering why she was even considering this with this particular guy, wanting to mentally kick herself with her rubber and very fashionable boots that seemed so out of place here. The floor boards beneath her boots creaked with each step, but she felt they were very durable and solid.

When she entered, everything felt right too. That was just too odd, and in her mind, the place looked absolutely perfect: the couch was situated in the middle of the livingroom, with a small television there, inside some white-washed entertainment cabinet; the coffee table was made out of cherry wood, a bit old, faded but clean; there were some books on the top, and the kitchen was just a little to the right of the entrance, where the swinging double doors held the separation of the two rooms. She could clearly see the sink over the slightly open window, the blinds coming halfway down, the clean counters displaying some tile and chrome. On the left side, indicated a small narrow hallway, perhaps where the bedrooms would be; and to top it off, there was a nice tall glass door leading outside to what looked like the balcony.

"Ah." She exclaimed, mouth slightly open--couldn't help herself, "I like it." She should really look at more places, but clearly, she hadn't really much time and the location was good; the place looked clean and decent enough—with enough furniture that looked quite comfortable and roomy enough. Sure, it was a smaller place; in fact, anything else she would be looking for would have to be smaller than anything she'd ever live in before.

"Great. But you haven't even looked around, like the bedroom?"

He had his fingers tucked into his back pockets, wearing a pair of smudged Levi's, the holes on the knees, showing skin, and the arm-less t-shirt he wore, could make another girl nervous. Ashe wasn't all that concern with living with a guy no matter how cute either. She was used to guys throwing themselves at her, but it was always, if not usually a quest more so for her wealth and the ones she liked were always too intimidated to approach. So it wasn't a problem living with a guy and her intuition told her that this guy was someone good; someone she could trust.

"I do have a lot of things." She said to him, "but I won't be needing so much if I decide to I move in."

"Where do you work?" He asked, his blue eyes looking into hers, not missing the way they glanced from her toes to the top of her head.

"Oh, I just started work with some lady who designs homes." Her eyes looked around for light switches, the sparse pictures hung on the walls, such as the university calender with some pen marks on it; a few pictures of landscapes and just bare walls that begged for attention.
He nodded, "I see. That's nice. Hey uh." He shuffled his feet, and the gesture of his hand over the back of his head was something quite endearing, "do you want something to drink?"

She was still in her jacket and the cap hadn't come off, so she pulled it free from her head and asked if there was a hanging rack around. He nervously lifted his shoulders, "I have a hanging closet in there, that's where the jackets and shoes go."

"Ah." She nodded slowly, "I'm not staying that long. I guess."

"No, please, if you want we could talk a bit, after you look around. And if you're happy with the place you can move right in." He was already in the kitchen, pulling out some plastic cups, and grabbing some large pitcher out of the fridge, "hey, you thirsty for iced tea?"

"Yeah." She called out, actually dying for something like that, "that sounds delicious."

Hearing the clink of ice into her cup, he poured some of the tea into both of their cups and settled them down onto the coffee table, "here you go, do you want something to eat?"

She had to laugh a little at that, "I wasn't planning on dinner here."

He laughed too, "what can I say; I really want you to move in."

"Oh?" she lifted a brow, "what happened to your last roommate? Or do you live alone?"

He breathed out, turning a little away, and the saddened eyes rode over like dark clouds over blue, "my brother, he died awhile back."

She opened her mouth, her hand over them, "I'm so sorry." Shaking her head, "I'm so sorry.." she repeated again.

"No, no, that's okay, it's awhile ago, I mean, like two years ago, so yeah, we used to live here without our parents cause well, our parents passed away and left us with little. Uh." He was subconsciously scratching the back of his pale head, "We got this place together, and we've been staying here, but he went off to join the military."

"Oh god." She shook her head again, reaching to her forehead, and fisting her hand there, "I feel really bad for you."

"You shouldn't, I'm okay, but thank you. You're really kind." He was smiling at her, "I hope you don't mind that we'll be sharing a bathroom."

That was unexpected. Ashe blinked, and though she was so used to having her own very large bathroom equipped with very large bathtub that was almost the size of a pool, she was going to have to share a bathroom with his guy.

"I'm sure it'll be okay," she heard herself saying, "is there a time limit?"

"Huh?" he drew his brows together.

"I mean, I like to take baths." Ashe was sending him her brightest smile, glad to feel that the subject of death had passed—that was always too uncomfortable for her, "with candles."

"Right." He nodded slowly, seemingly lost for words, exhaling heavily, "there's no bathtub. Only a shower." With that last word he seemed disappointed, his head turned away.

"Oh." That shouldn't be a problem, something to make do, "I don't need to waste my time in bath's anyway." She laughed a little. Why did she clearly want to live here with this guy? It's not like she couldn't find something else, but in her head, logical as she tried to be: she did want this place. She wanted to live here.

"I'll take a look at the room." Ashe walked over to the bedrooms, the two of the doors across from each other; the open bathroom was facing the direction opposite to the end of the entrance to the hall.

"Yours would be on the left."

She opened it to reveal an empty room, clean white walls, and wooden flooring, also very clean. There was a door to a closet, which she opened and was mildly pleased that it had some room for a few of her clothes. She would definitely bring only the clothes she needed, with that thought, blowing a few of her straying pale strands away from her face, her hand reached over to the small cupboards that would hold her folded clothing; the shoe rack at the bottom surprised her, noting that that would be enough for at least a half dozen of her shoes.

"I hope you like it." He said, low. When she turned around, he was watching her, the blues of his eyes serious and hopeful.

"I-I do."

The grin that split on his face basically transformed the saddened eyes; "YES!" he made a gesture with his right hand, fisted, like he won the football match.

"I think we'll get along, and that's what I was also hoping." Ashe added.

"Can you believe it, that you're the first person I actually wanted to live here."

"Oh really?" She was surprised, "You've had others come and see the place?"

He exhaled, scoffed a little at that, "Yeahhhh. Not the kind I would want living with me, let's just leave it at that."

"Surely you have friends?" Ashe wanted to bite her lip after spewing those words out, but she was curious. A guy like Vaan had to have some friends even after his brother's untimely demise.

He smirked, "Not the ones I want to share room with. I wanted someone responsible too, and most of my friends are living with their parents or living with other flat mates already." Vaan picked up the cup of iced tea and swallowed the contents, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand quickly.

"How about tomorrow? Can I start then?" Ashe was wondering why so soon, but the words slipped from her lips. It's not like she couldn't hire a moving van right away and shove all the essentials she needed in one go. Sure, she was using her father's money for this, but right now, it was a necessary thing. Afterward, the independence would come.

"Today if you want." He was dead serious too.

She was mesmerized by his eyes, those happy eyes that could churn sad and lonely—almost haunted, "You want me that bad."

She blinked, it didn't sound that way did it? But it did, and he sucked in his breath as if to catch something too good to be true, she heard him swallow, "Y-yes."

The air around them kind of stilled, the way a photograph captures time, the sound of the clock on the entertainment cabinet clicked noisily, "how much should I put down?" she said, almost breaking the silence.

"You can," he exhaled, as if he held his breath, "give me, um, first month's rent, but if you're not ready, I can wait for at least half of it. Whatever you want." His fingers pressed against the empty plastic cup he held, his eyes stared into hers.

She broke the contact by laughing and turning away, "whatever I want? You know, I was hoping not to be spoiled." Was she clearly flirting with him? No, of course not, but the way he was looking at her, it was as if he wanted to sink his eyes into all of her. And for some odd reason, Ashe didn't mind one bit. He seemed like such a nice guy. A nice boy. Her father would approve. Yes. Indeed, who wouldn't?

"You're going to have to meet my father." She said this plainly and clearly, hoping to see the expression on Vaan: the guy she just met--with eyes as wide as saucers and mouth hung open looking too comical that she ended up laughing, falling on the couch with her hand over her stomach.

She giggled into her hand, wiping away the tears from her eyes, barely heard him say, playfully, grinning, "Sure, your majesty."