AN: Random AU prompts on tumblr are the bane of my increasing list of WIPs, I swear. Inspired by this one: Someone needs to write a 'the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear' AU
Liz sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding in her chest, roused by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Stumbling onto the semi-private patio before she was fully conscious, only one thought occupied her groggy mind—get out now.
The chilly air woke her instantly. It might have been unseasonably warm for March, but it wasn't nearly warm enough for what she wore to bed. She knew she should have packed something flannel when she chose to head north for this trip, one last hurrah before she graduated, a splurge she'd been saving up for for quite literally years.
The sound of her neighbor's door sliding open behind her startled her, and she spun around to see a man in nothing but his underwear burst out onto the patio, nearly jumping straight into the air when his bare feet came in contact with the stone.
"Christ, it's cold." He stopped in his tracks when he noticed her standing there. "Hello," he said, and offered her a crooked smile.
They seemed to register at the same moment just how little they were wearing, and looked each other up and down swiftly. She crossed her arms over her chest and wished, not for the first time, that her tiny sleep shorts covered more of her legs. He wasn't as obviously self-conscious, but he still casually clasped his hands in front of him to shield what his boxer-briefs did little to hide.
"So…" he said, "do you come here often?"
The absurd juxtaposition of his question and their predicament surprised a snort of laughter out of her and his face broke out into a grin that made her stomach twist in an odd, enjoyable sort of way. Her heart clenched. Finding the man attractive would be inconvenient enough if the two of them were fully clothed; now it just made an awkward situation even more awkward because she had nowhere to focus her attention without feeling like a creep.
She turned away and began to pace. She could feel the man's eyes on her, following her progress back and forth across the small patio. His attention wasn't uncomfortable. He didn't leer. She was grateful for that.
"God, it really is cold," she said, when the two of them were silent just a bit too long and having nothing but the sound of the alarm to distract her started to set her teeth on edge.
"If you keep thinking about it, it's only going to seem worse."
"How long do you think this'll take?"
"If it's just a false alarm, hopefully it'll be over soon. If not…" He shrugged. Liz frowned. "We won't get frost-bite, if that's what you're afraid of. It's not cold enough for hypothermia. It's just… unpleasant."
She stopped pacing and stared longingly into her room, trying to work out how quickly she could get to her suitcase and back. "We could run in and grab something warm to wear, or at least a blanket. What harm could it do?"
They eyed each other, waiting for someone to make the first move; neither one of them dared take a step towards their respective sliding door. The peal of a siren cut through the droning fire alarm and they both backed away from the building reflexively.
"Better safe than sorry," he said. He sniffed the air, squinting up at the hotel anxiously, and clenched his jaw. He took up pacing where she left off.
Liz sighed, watching surreptitiously as he made his way up and down the patio. Might as well look at this as an opportunity to practice her profiling skills. Getting a read on a mostly-naked stranger would be an interesting challenge, one she wouldn't have a chance to attempt very often.
He kept his hair short in the front, in that weird haircut favored by men who weren't ready to admit their hairlines were receding. The hair he had was clean but sleep-mussed, shot through with the occasional strand of white. He wasn't in great shape, but it wasn't terrible either—like age and overindulgence had caught up to him and he'd developed a bit of a paunch. Lean, strong arms. Muscular thighs and an admittedly great ass. Faded tattoos, mostly traditional designs. Ex-military maybe? Another quick glance as he passed her revealed a back covered with extensive scarring.
Well. That probably explained his nerves.
"What happened to your back?"
"That's a long and sordid story better suited to a bottle of wine shared after dinner than a patio shared with a stranger at a hotel." He lowered himself onto one of the wooden deck chairs and crossed his legs gracefully, as if he was wearing the finest three-piece suit instead of what he was really wearing—almost nothing. "Although the latter could easily lead to the former, if you're so inclined…" He trailed off, waiting for her to supply her name.
She knew she shouldn't. Hell, the man was a total stranger and considerably older than her, to boot, yet here he was, taking advantage of the situation to hit on her. Still, it was only her name and she wouldn't have to see him again after tonight. If he became a problem, she could put in a request to have her room changed.
"Elizabeth," she said. "Liz." She perched herself gingerly on the edge of the other chair, shooting for as little contact with the cold wood as possible.
"So, what brings you to this charming corner of the world, Liz?"
"Spring break."
He tilted his head to the side slightly, studying her face. "Most people lean toward somewhere a bit more… tropical… for spring break."
"I like the cold. In general, at least." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to keep her blood flowing.
"Are you a skier?"
"No. The mountains are… peaceful. The last thing I want from a vacation is a cheap hotel filled with rowdy, drunken college students just trying to get in each other's pants."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you a college student yourself?"
"I'm not rowdy or drunk," she said, defensively, "and I'm certainly not trying to get in anyone's pants."
Just as she finished speaking, the alarm shut off; the sudden silence was as deafening as the noise had been. After a long, tense moment of unbroken eye contact, the man uttered in a low voice, "That's a shame."
Liz's stomach fluttered at the gravel in his tone and she swallowed hard; he looked away first. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she trusted herself to speak.
"I don't even know your name. Why would I—"
"Raymond," he said, still studiously avoiding her eyes. "But most people call me Red."
"Well, Red," she said, "Raymond." She stood and brushed herself off. "Maybe next time you proposition someone young enough to be your d—"
"I didn't proposition you," he said quickly. He stood smoothly, walked in step with her towards the hotel. "I implied that if you propositioned me, I wouldn't object."
"You asked me to share a bottle of wine with you after dinner."
"OK, I'll give you that one. But isn't this a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"
"What do you mean?"
He stepped closer then and she had to stop herself from leaning towards the warmth radiating from his body in spite of herself.
"I know it hasn't escaped your notice that I'm more exposed here than you are," he said. "I haven't chastised you for your wandering eyes, have I?" Her gaze snapped back up to meet his; unconsciously, she'd been watching his lips as he spoke.
"Sleep well." He pulled back without making any physical contact whatsoever and stepped into his room.
The sound of the door sliding shut startled Liz; she shook herself, both figuratively and literally, and returned to her own room, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the door after she turned the lock.
She wondered how unwise it would be to take a cold shower.
