Inspired by a tumblr post. Basically, there is a picture of two houses with little bits of roof under the windows, and the houses are so close that the roofs run into each other. Someone said "I BET THAT IF TWO KIDS LIVED IN THOSE TWO HOUSES THAT THEY WOULD COME OUT ON THEIR ALMOST CONJOINING ROOFS OUTSIDE THEIR BEDROOM WINDOWS AND TALK AND BE BEST FRIENDS AND FALL IN LOVE." So. It had to be done.
Anthony grabbed the stereo off his desk, dropped it on the bed, and flopped down beside it. An appropriate tape should be in it already - he couldn't actually remember what he was playing last, but going off statistics (90% AC/DC, 5% Metallica, 5% indie he would never admit to), it was a reasonable assumption. He went ahead and turned the volume to maximum, pulled his pillow over his head, and hefted the stereo on top of that. The bass line soaked through the fabric and stuffing then into his ears and almost washed out his father's voice, which kept bouncing around in there.
A sharp knock barely made its way through the sound. He groaned and lifted his hand blindly to the pause button, but didn't bother to move his head or the pillow. He liked them where they were, thanks.
A voice that was not any of the ones he had been expecting (mother, father, Jarvis) although it did, at least, have the right tone (irritated, exasperated, a touch of 'why can't he just grow up and get over this') caused him to jerk upright, tumbling the stereo rather painfully into his lap.
"Please don't turn that on after 11 PM."
He squinted into the light and saw a scrawny little blonde kid sitting on the roof directly outside the window. "You're that kid my father keeps telling me to be more like, aren't you? Sorry, I'm sure you'd prefer it if I were playing doo-wop or swing or, or Sinatra, but I like my music from this decade."
"That noise is keeping me awake from the next building over, it must be terrible for the people in the same house. You're being extremely inconsiderate."
"And you're trespassing."
"Technically, I'm - what is that sound?"
Anthony cocked his head slightly and listened. Oh. Apparently his father wasn't just in his head, after all. "No jocund health that Stark drinks today, but the great cannon to the clouds shall tell." What? Hamlet quotes are useful for distracting people with. It was either that or hitting on him, and Blondie looked straight as a flagpole.
As more words became clear through the walls, Blondie's eyebrows lowered. "Why don't you come over to my roof to discuss your choice of music and volume? Then I wouldn't be trespassing. And you would be separated from your infernal machine."
Anthony looked at Blondie (5'2'', 100 pounds soaking wet, graphite marks all over his hands - draws, probably bullied, confirmed by the way he's holding his arm) and shrugged. "Why not?"