Lincoln turns the shower off, pulling back the curtain and stepping out into the cloud of steam filling his small bathroom. He grabs his towel from the hook and dries of, patting his face and head dry before tying the towel securely around his waist. It's his day off, he he's already gone to the gym and is looking forward to having the afternoon free to hang out around his apartment, maybe he'll work on some sketches.
He leans forward, wiping the steam from a patch of his fogged up mirror with his palm. He is searching the top drawer for his razor when the sound door to his apartment door fly open and smacking into the wall grabs his attention.
"Bell," A young sounding woman's voice calls, although her tone manages to make the word sound more like an order. "Get your ass out here, you've got some explaining to do!"
He arches an eyebrow curiously, reaching for his door knob and pulling the door open. He finds the girl standing just inside his door, her arms crossed over her chest as she studied something that is stuck to his fridge.
"Can I help you?" He asks, taking a few steps out of his bathroom. His eyebrow raises again as he studies the petite figure before him, his arms crossing slowly over his chest.
His voice seems to startle her, she doesn't jump but her head snaps to face him so quickly that some of her brown hair flips forward from the sudden movement. Her green eyes meet his for a moment before moving to scan the tattoos decorating his chest and arms. She shakes her head, her arms gradually falling to her sides. She backs up slowly until she can see the apartment number posted outside of his door.
"Dammit, sorry," She replies in a much less angry voice when she looks back at him from the 318 posted next to his door in big black numbers. She runs her fingers through her hair, brushing the strands that fell in front of her face backward in the process.
Lincoln finds himself chuckling, watching for a moment as the girl tugs on the hem of her green jacket. "I take it you're in the wrong apartment."
"Yeah, I was so mad at my stupid brother that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. He just moved into 317," She adds with a gesture toward the door on the other side of the hall. "I'm not quite used to this building yet," She chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry again, especially since it looks like you were… busy."
She starts to turn, her hand grabbing the knob to pull the door shut behind her, and Lincoln finds himself speaking up. "It's no big deal. I'm Lincoln, by the way."
She turns back, smiling at him softly and offering a small wave, "I'm Octavia. I promise I don't make a habit of wondering into strange men's apartments unannounced." She smirks, her eyes gracing his muscular arms for a brief moment, "Not that I think you're strange, though."
Lincoln returns her smirk, opening his mouth to reply, but he is interrupted by the door of the apartment across the hall opening.
"O?" A man with messy black hair and dark eyes asks as he steps out into the hall. The similarities in their features make it easy for Lincoln to identify the man as Octavia's brother. "I thought I heard your voice. What's going on?" He asks, studying Lincoln and his lack of clothing with a cautious gaze.
Octavia shrugs, a touch of defiance finding her tone, "Nothing, I was just talking to my friend Lincoln here about how you're an idiot."
The man raises an eyebrow and smirks, "Oh? What did I do now?"
Octavia turns to face her brother more fully, seeming to forget that Lincoln is watching for a moment. She crosses her arms again, "I just got off the phone with Clarke, and she told me ab-"
"Oh god, not this again," her brother cuts her off, exasperation filling his tone. He turns and starts back into his apartment as if he thinks he can escape her sister's wrath by going back to bed.
Octavia follows, calling "I'll see you around, Lincoln" over her shoulder before shutting the door to her brother's apartment behind her. The hall is filled with the muffled sound of the siblings arguing and Lincoln is left to stare at the door to apartment 317.
After a moment he chuckles again, uncrossing his arms and moving to shut his door. He heads for his bedroom to get dressed, abandoning his original plan to shave and then make himself lunch. The need to be clean shaven overwhelmed by the desire to sketch his new muse while her face is fresh in his mind.
A/N: I don't usually write modern AUs but I was inspired to write this by a tumblr post. Let me know what you thought.