A/N: Hi folks! I rarely say this, but I highly suggest that you read this fic on AO3 instead of here due to formatting shenanigans that I can manage on there. You can find it under the same name "Locky for Us" by firelord65.
This is a (much belated) giftfic for the darling Symbioticdeath. She prompted: "Locked out of the apartment and the neighbors are an international thief and their ginger roommate"
Kyle and Richards are OCs from my Divergent-verse. They're always boyfriends and they're always here to cause trouble ;D
Pacing the floorboards of the hallway, I patted my back pocket for the eighth time in as many minutes. It hadn't managed to make my key to reappear. Nor would it, but vain hope was all that I had left at this point. My front door was locked and I was on the wrong damn side.
I flipped open my phone and paced once more back to the stairwell. I didn't like calling Kyle while he was at work, but this was an emergency. I listened to the ringing and stuck my tongue out as it clicked to voicemail. It was expected but still, I needed help. I hung up rather than leaving the message. If he couldn't answer it directly then there was no way he'd have the chance to stop, call his voicemail, and get back to me.
Pulling up our text conversation, I went with the indirect route on the off chance that he'd be able to answer between… whatever it was that he did at work.
KYLE BALLOU
Tris: Hey when do you get off shift?
Tris: Kinda got an emergency going on here
Kyle: 8 but im going straight to s-field
Kyle: emergency?
I ground my teeth. I should have known that of all the days when I'd get locked out, my roommate would be rocketing off to visit his family that same night. They could be finicky, too. If he said he'd be there by nine, he had to be there by nine.
Still, I shot off another text in vain hope that he'd be able to help me out.
KYLE BALLOU
Tris: It's really dumb but, uh, I locked myself out of the apt. Like keys in the purse, purse on the counter full on bullshit
Tris: There's no way you can come let me in before you leave?
I made uncomfortable eye contact with the jogging couple that lived above us as they wound their way down the staircase. Even worse, they didn't even wait until I was out of earshot to start gossiping about why I was "lurking" there. God, if only someone had installed a filter on the wife I would have felt less bad about the very un-avoidable misery of standing in the goddamn hallway where I lived.
While I waited for another response, I considered any other last-ditch efforts that I could make. We weren't in the fancy enough part of the collection of apartment buildings to have a balcony, otherwise I'd be considering climbing up and breaking through there to get inside. Hell, Kyle would probably have left the slider open if we had one. But no. We barely had the 400 a piece to pay for our two bedrooms and shared spaces.
The only "good" thing I had going for me was that I didn't have like a basket of laundry or whatever to also lug around. I'd left the apartment to check the mail, gone downstairs to the sketchy lobby, and there was where I'd realized my mistake. In my haste I'd grabbed the keyring that only held our mailbox key and not my entire set. Kyle used the single key all the time, usually because I would be home to let him in when the front door locked behind him.
Now, though. Now I was the one locked out and there was no second Tris there to let me in. My phone buzzed and my heart sank as I read the message.
KYLE BALLOU
Kyle: Cant :c
Kyle is Typing...
It was agony waiting to see what else he had to say. My hopes didn't rise high. More than likely he was just explaining how and why his parents stupid requests couldn't be ignored which was fine on its own, but dammit at some point I'd need to eat dinner. Still, Kyle was my only lifeline at this moment. If there was a chance that he'd be able to scrape out the scant minutes to let me back into the apartment…
KYLE BALLOU
Kyle: so i cant help but theres… well u know how ive been uh sort of maybe seeing someone recently. he actually lives in the same building but weve kept it on the DL. for reasons. reasons that i know you really wouldnt like but they might help? now? idk my point is go knock on D12 and ask for richards
Tris: Kyle if you're dating an ex-con I won't care
Kyle: Not so much in the "ex" but ur p close with the other half ^^;;
Kyle: u didnt hear this from me
Kyle: xoxo
Kyle: management is creeping bye
Sigh wasn't a strong enough word to describe the exhale that came from my chest. I watched Kyle's frantic goodbye come in along with his non-apology. Try hard as I could, I wasn't able to bring actual anger to bear against him. I was trying to get into Chicago's police academy this spring. No wonder he was hiding his boyfriend. I trusted Kyle to not get involved in anyone who was actually dangerous, though. Probably the guy, I dunno, re-sold items that "fell off of trucks."
That's what I told myself as I paced down the hall past our door to D-twelve. Actually standing outside the door my nerves railed against my needs. Maybe I could just jiggle my door handle and it'd pop open the lock. Yeah, that was possible. I should have tried that before I let my knuckles rap against the metal door in front of me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket but I didn't get the chance to answer it. The metal in front of me was replaced with a stocky, blonde monument. My eyes crept upwards an unfathomable amount to finally reach his. It was impossible to not notice the black bars inked on his neck or the way that the microdermals above his brow moved in tandem to accent the slight raise of his eyebrow.
"Hello?" tall, blonde, and gorgeous asked. Good God did Kyle have great taste in men. I was still trying to rectify the face with the criminal label that had been handed to me and my recovery suffered for it.
"Your boyfriend sent me. I got locked out - we live over there, me and him - and I need to get back inside," I blabbed.
He blinked at me before leaning against the door. "I'm going to need you to run that by me again, maybe in English this time. Who's my boyfriend?"
"Kyle," I answered. "Oh god, you're not serious are you. Jeeze, here I am messing more things up." My cheeks were thoroughly red by this point. I hated talking to strangers without good cause. I could probably still bow out and kick the door down myself. Or wait the miserable five hours for a locksmith to show up. The apartment used RFID tags rather than typical keys and the only smith that could crack them open lived on the other side of the city. Correction, the only cheap smith.
The blonde man's forehead creased and he crossed his arms. "I don't know a Kyle," he said slowly. Then, snapping his fingers, he grinned. "Oh you're looking for Rich. He mentioned a new squeeze."
"You're… not Richards." It was obvious. Painfully so. Yet I'd stuck my foot so far into my mouth I could taste Oriole Ave.
"No, I'm Eric. And you are?" he asked.
I ran my hand through my hair, hiding behind the locks that fell freely over my face after the motion. "Tris. Hoo boy this just keeps getting better and better," I managed to say. I watched Eric through my hair, my excuse to leave on the tip of my tongue. He was looking me up and down, the grin twisting from amused to cocky.
"You really got yourself locked out? And you didn't try calling the landlord?" he asked.
By this point I'd slipped my phone from my pocket again to glance at what had been buzzing away in my pocket. Kyle hadn't called back, but he'd managed to shoot off a few more texts.
KYLE BALLOU
Kyle: richy has a roomie. big guy, kinda tough. I dunno if he'll be able to help
Kyle: at best maybe u'll be able to hang there til a LS comes
Kyle: DON'T MENTION THE CRIMINAL THING. im not "supposed" to know
I grimaced at his belated warnings as well as the implication that I wouldn't be able to play it cool with his shady boyfriend. Cool as a cucumber, that was me. Tris Prior, ice queen. I spoke to my phone rather than Eric directly. "I would, but I know that she lives in Jersey or something, so she's basically useless," I said.
"Like any good landlord," Eric joked.
I nodded and shot off a quick "ty" to Kyle before he started capslock shouting at me more. "So… is Richards around? Kyle mentioned that he might know a way to get back inside. On the DL," I rambled.
No, I would not be going undercover for the force once I made it.
Eric chewed on his lip and glanced behind him. At this point, I took my own quick peek behind him. I'd been so distracted by, well, by the walking art piece in front of me that I hadn't really noticed anything else.
The apartment was brightly lit, unlike the dingy flophouses of TV criminals. The windows were covered by blackout curtains but there were white LED lamps scattered everywhere to counteract the lack of natural light. Where Kyle and I had our couch and coffee table set up there was a card table and aluminum cases neatly stacked everywhere.
Oh. Shit.
These guys weren't dime store criminals. They were inch-thick case files with question marks in the profile photo slot, capital "c" Criminals.
Eric held up a finger. "One second, Tris on the DL," he said, winking when he said my name. I'm not proud to say that it did make my heartbeat jump. Or maybe that was from the nerves that oh my God Kyle was dating a genuine underworld criminal.
He closed the door and I strained to hear what he was doing. I took my two seconds of privacy to scramble a text to Kyle.
KYLE BALLOU
Tris: Hey MORON this was a HORRIBLE idea your bf wasn't there and now i'm dealing with tall blonde beefcake
Tris: THIS WAS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR
Kyle: beefcake?
Tris: I'm fucking going to throw all your shit into the dumpster I stg
Kyle: send pics
Kyle: i've never seen him in person
Tris: Aren't you supposed to be working?
The door snapped open and my head flew up just as quickly. Eric had one of the aluminum cases in hand and his own apartment key disappearing into his vest pocket. Oh yeah. The semi-tactical vest and clearly army surplus pants should have cued me in way earlier. If I'd ever seen Eric in the hallway one evening I probably would have reached for my brass knuckles in my purse.
His easygoing smile only marginally put me at ease. "Lead the way," he said simply.
"Kay," I whispered, more to myself than actually to him. I was actually trusting him to break into my apartment for me. Hell, I was now going to live with the knowledge that someone just down the hall both knew how and had the tools to break into my apartment. C'est la vie.
I hovered around my door as Eric cracked open the aluminum case. Black molded foam kept several cloth cases from being jostled around during transport. It seemed a bit overkill when he pulled out a classic lockpick set from one of them. He started to go for the deadbolt until I cleared my throat.
"That's not locked. I just ran out to check the mail and just the bottom one clicked," I explained.
Eric nodded and slid the case back away. "Not letting me impress with the easy one, of course," he said. I chewed my lip as I realized he was teasing - flirting - with me. Oh lord. This wasn't high school. A half joke and pretty face shouldn't have sent my stomach into flips.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "Next time I'll leave more things locked."
The next tool that came out from the case was completely unfamiliar to me. He was completely at ease, holding the tool at the RFID reader before pulling it down to adjust something with one of the dials. "There's going to be a next time?" Eric asked. He flicked his eyes to meet mine before darting back to the tool.
Get it together, Prior. That didn't mean anything.
"Anything I can do to guarantee that?" he added.
Once again I retreated behind my running-hand through-hair defense. It also made me just that bit cuter. I knew from experience. "I guess that depends," I replied.
"On?"
I tapped the corner of the case with the toe of my sneaker. "On whether or not I should be worried about the other places this stuff's been used," I admitted.
Eric paused in his working. I examined his face carefully. The question was horribly phrased, at least for flirting, but I did want to know exactly who I was making small talk with. Worst case, I'd need to suffer through the horrific apartment search again to avoid associating with him. Best case, I'd have a new source for knock-off purses.
He didn't work in purses. I wasn't that naive.
"It hasn't been used to get into other cute girls' apartments," Eric replied carefully. "Any further details require a warrant."
I raised an eyebrow. "A warrant isn't for testimony," I corrected him, the instinct automatic.
He sat back, that wry smile returning. He pointed the stylus he'd plucked from the RFID cracker at me. "I knew I smelled law enforcement. Damn shame, having a lawman across the hall," he joked.
"I'm just studying for the academy entrance exam," I replied. Dammit, why was I still answering him? He wasn't upset at least, that was good. If anything, he was enjoying the fact that I could have been a cop.
Eric idly poked at the reader's screen. "When's your test?" he asked.
"Next month. They haven't posted the dates yet." I crossed my legs and sat down behind his kit. My hands wrapped around my knees for want of anything else to do.
My companion nodded. He pointed for another canvas cased tool, and I passed it to him. "This let me figure out what code the door's looking for," Eric explained, hoisting the first scanner he'd been using.
"And you're going to send the signal with this?" I finished with the next leap in logic and gestured to the case I'd handed him. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Kyle, probably asking for his picture.
Eric nodded. "Yep, that's about it," he said with a laugh. "Taking all the mystery out of my work."
I chuckled as well. While he was finagling with the lock, I took advantage of his back being mostly to me to pull out my phone and call up the camera. It wasn't winning photo of the year, but it would have to satisfy Kyle for now.
KYLE BALLOU
Kyle: picturrrrre
I attached the photo that I'd taken, feeling fairly creepy for doing so.
KYLE BALLOU
Tris: Good enough?
Kyle: *heart eyes*
Kyle: please tell me he's single
Tris: You have a boyfriend
Kyle: you don't
Scowling, I locked my phone again and returned back to my company. I missed Eric finishing up with the lock. While I'd entertained my roommate, Eric had wrapped up his tools once again. I scrambled back to my feet.
"Should be all set," Eric said. He handed me a small loop of plastic. "A spare. Try not to bend it, though. They're delicate."
I sidled next to him and pressed it against the reader. Sure enough, the light shot green, and I could turn the lock open once again. Cheering, I stepped inside my home once again. "Oh this is just fantastic," I gushed. A wave of relief finally set in, washing away all the bubbling anxiety.
I turned to back to Eric. He snapped the latches closed on his case and stood as well. "So about my fee," he said. One hand came up over the doorframe as he leaned casually against the wall.
"I have a funny feeling I can't afford your usual hourly rate," I replied wrly. His lifted shoulder confirmed my suspicions.
Eric looked at the ceiling. "I'd call us even for another seven digit figure," he said.
"Seven figures? An hour?" I gaped. Then reality checked back in and I realized just what he meant. Heat flooded my cheeks. "Oh!"
He tipped his head back down to look at me. "If you're available, that is. No harm, no foul if you're not. But I'd love to take you to dinner if you are," Eric said.
I weighed the pros and cons. Pro, he was undeniably attractive. Clever. Very local. Cons, I was trying to be a cop and he emanated ill-gotten gains.
I held up a finger. "One second, Eric on the DL," I said. I had to dart into our tiny kitchen to find a scrap of paper and pen from the junk drawer. Scrawling my phone number down, I remembered at the last second to write "Tris Prior, D6" at the top.
He was waiting for me when I opened the door, his hair freshly slicked back and an all-black business card in his free hand.
"I'm paying, that's the deal," I said as I passed him my note.
Eric nodded good-naturedly. "I'll try to be on my best behavior. Won't order the steak dinner. I'll even help you study for your test," he replied, passing me his card as well. My fingers vibrated from the tiny brush of contact.
"Going to help me with cataloguing misdemeanors?" I joked.
He scoffed. "Felonies or bust." I had a funny feeling that was a phrase he bandied about more than just this one time. Eric picked up his lockpicking case and tucked my note into his pocket.
"Seeya around, Tris," he said.
A/N: As usual, please do let me know what you thought of the fic in the comments section! This is a oneshot, so I won't be adding to it.