I own nothing, although if Stu Bennett, Stephen Farrelly, or Drew Galloway are ever up for sale, I'll be first in line. This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please read and review. Thanks to cenachick1981 for helping write this.
It had been a long week for Stuart Bennett, and home had never looked so inviting. The thirty-one year old dropped his suitcase on the floor before stumbling toward his bedroom. 'I beat my insomnia' was Stu's last conscious thought as his eyes closed. Unfortunately for Stu, his rest was short-lived as the sound of Guns-n-Roses boomed in from next door. Apartment 5286 had been vacant for some time, but apparently, that was no longer the case. With a groan, Stu yawned and walked out onto the balcony that connected the two flats, and the source of the noise that had woken him.
"Could you please turn the bloody mus..." Stu's voice trailed off as he got a good look at his new neighbor. She was a fairly slender brunette, her dark hair in a ponytail as she sat on a barstool in front of an easel. Stu couldn't see what she was painting, but realized she had heard him as she set both her palette and brush down.
"I'm sorry," she said, turning to face him. Other than a slight widening of her hazel eyes, the woman showed no sign of recognition, however, Stu recognized her almost immediately. He was surprised when she merely extended her right hand and gave a slight smile. "Heather Carey, and I really am sorry about the noise." Stu accepted her proffered hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. "Stu Bennett," he replied with a smile. Before either could say anything else, a UPS truck pulled up and the driver made a beeline for them, a large box in his hands.
"H. Carey?" Heather nodded and quickly signed for the package. Stu watched as she grinned and quickly opened the parcel. She saw the expression on Stu's face and held up a large tube. "My paints," she commented. "It's much cheaper to buy them wholesale online." They talked for a few more minutes, with Heather apologizing again for her music, before they returned to their respective homes.
Later that evening, Heather had just added the last ingredients to a pot of pork vindaloo when the unpleasant smell of something burning wafted in through her kitchen window. She stepped outside and saw smoke coming from Stu's window. The aforementioned Englishman came outside with a smoking pot and an expression of bewilderment on his handsome face. Heather stifled her laughter and shook her head. "Put some hot water in that and come on over. I'm making Indian tonight, and I have more than enough to share. What were you trying to make, anyway?"
"Chicken stew," he replied, causing her to give a wry grin.
"I take it that cooking really isn't your strong suit, is it?"
"Unfortunately not," he said with a slight smile.
"I generally cook every night, so when you're home, just stop by."
"I don't want to impose," Stu said, causing her to shake her head again. "Heather, I would hate to be an imposition."
"Stu, what would be an imposition is you burning down the building and me having to move again." He mock-glared at her and she shrugged. "I usually make extra anyway, so just take care of your burnt offerings there and come on over." Stu looked down at the pot, then back at Heather.
"Very funny." She shrugged and gave him a smirk.
"I do try. It's so nice to see that someone appreciates my sense of humor." His lips twitched and his ears turned red as he struggled to keep his composure.
"Cheeky little monkey," he muttered, unable to completely hide his grin. Heather smiled as they walked back to their respective apartments, and she strolled into her minutes later, she was pulling a pan of fresh naan from the oven when there was a knock on her door.
"It's open," she called out, over the sound of Heart. Stu stepped through the door and was immediately assailed by the smell of some of his favorite Indian dishes. Looking around the living room, his eyes were drawn to several jackets on a coatrack as well as a large display case. Inside the case was a uniform coat with a number of medals, ribbons, insignias and pins. A small brass plaque was mounted on the bottom of the case with the inscription "FC2(SW) H. 'Fae' Carey, United States Navy, 1998-2007."
"Make yourself at home," she said with a smile, "dinner's almost ready."
"When did you move in?" Stu asked as he looked around the room, which was decorated in shades of blue, tan, and cream. "This past weekend," Heather replied as she began plating the dinner. Stu's eyes drifted to a corner where a dressmaker's model stood with a very unusual looking dress on it. The skirt was comprised of thin strips of fabric to form an old-fashioned, floor-length skirt while the top was merely a vest with a high-necked collar and oddly corseted waist. The predominant color was black, but strips and patches of red, purple, turquoise, and white were splashed throughout the gown. "I'll be finished with that in a couple of weeks." Heather said when she saw what had caught his attention.
"What is it?" She smiled and walked over to a desk near the mannequin. "It's actually for Halloween. One of my dearest friends and I are dressing up as Elphaba and Nessarose Thropp from Wicked."
"Wicked?" Stu's brow furrowed as he tried to recall why that title seemed familiar. Heather quickly summarized the story before leading him into the dining room, not noticing the speculative gleam in his eyes when she mentioned the witch, Elphaba's lover Fiyero. Taking a seat at the table, Stu inhaled deeply and smiled at his companion before taking a bite. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as the flavors hit his palate. "Would you please enlighten me as to why you are not a professional chef?" Heather blushed slightly and shrugged.
"I've never been to culinary school, and I rarely use a set recipe. I use my instincts, so I can make the same dish, but it will never taste the same." She smiled and shook her head. "I thought about trying out for one of those Food Network shows, but you have to at least be a private chef to be considered." Stu nodded and took another bite. Swallowing it, he took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat.
"You could always say that you are employed as my chef." Heather laughed and nodded her head.
"I'll keep that in mind the next time I apply for Food Network Star." They had finished eating and were clearing the table when Stu's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and accepted the call.
"Hello...just finished dinner...actually, no I didn't get take-out...oh very funny, Galloway...burnt offerings my arse...for your information, I have a lovely new neighbor who was kind enough to share her dinner...fine, yes I bloody burned it...fuck off, Drew...goodbye." Stu hung up, muttering about Scottish imbeciles as Heather tried to stifle her laughter.
"What did your friend want?" Stu rubbed his chin as he looked at her. "The git is trying to fiangle a dinner invitation for himself and Stephen." His brunette companion shrugged as she continued to load the dishwasher.
"Like I said earlier, I usually make more than enough to share. Drew will probably recognize me right away, since I was at his FCW signing on August 3rd and one of the two holding up the Scottish flag." Stu nodded, and a small smirk curved his mouth.
"He's not the only one. I seem to recall a pretty brunette wearing a Corre shirt, holding a sign that resembled a Master Card advertisement, and cheering at the top of her lungs for me in the front row of a Smackdown taping in Texas several months ago." A light flush tinted her cheeks as she nodded. As they took a seat on her sectional, Stu saw a number of textbooks and writing materials on a corner desk.
"What are you reading...erm ...majoring in?" Grateful for the subject change, Heather cleared her throat.
"International and Comparative Politics," she replied. Stu nodded, and the two began discussing academics. Around 9:30pm, Stu's phone rang again. This time, the caller was Stephen, and Stu extended Heather's dinner invitation to his two best friends.
"Could you please tell Drew to behave himself, and that I really could care less who got more videos from that little bird in Philadelphia." Heather shook her head and continued wiping off the stove as Stu continued his conversation. He finally hung up and shook his head and looked over at his neighbor, who was leaning against her kitchen counter, a small smile on her face.
"The person responsible for those DVD's you mentioned is the friend I spoke of earlier." Stu's jaw dropped as he stared at her.
"You must be joking!" Heather shook her head and he started laughing. "I swear, Drew's half in love with that bird." Heather started laughing as well.
"Oh trust me, she wouldn't object to that at all. To be perfectly honest, she wouldn't object to him, you or a certain Irishman." They looked at each other and started laughing again.
"Well, Stephen is engaged and I prefer brunettes, so it looks like the poor bird gets landed with an annoying Scotsman." Heather laughed again, and they talked for another hour before Stu went home and Heather went to bed.
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