Most Nights
Writer's note: This is my first Wreck-It-Ralph fic. Just got into the fandom a few weeks ago.
When she wakes up, she still sees his ghost. Really, that's all that's left of him. The roadside bomb consumed him in a fireball leaving nothing. No body; just a ghost of a presence that lingers by her side most nights.
Almost a year after that fateful day in the Middle East, she's found a new home, a new town, and hope for a new life without the reminders of him. She moves into an apartment complex in a quiet town called Niceland. The streets roll up at 5 p.m. making it a far cry from lively Oceanside, CA, but it'll do.
The local high school needed a girls' coach, and what better way to put her drill sergeant experience to use than to whip some pussywillow teenagers into shape. The job isn't what she envisioned her future to be when she enlisted in the Marines, but it's better than being chained behind a desk 8 hours a day.
The apartment complex is well…nice. There's a lake with a walking trail, but she prefers working out in the 24 hour fitness room after midnight. No one is there that late to make small talk that she finds mindless to say the least. Conversations should be to the point, not about how the weather was that day.
She's able to avoid her neighbors for the first couple weeks until she finds the carton of cookie dough ice cream melted to a milky goo in the freezer. She dreads it, but calls the complex handyman anyway. She'd endure a visitor so her ice cream can survive.
The handyman comes early evening after she gets off work. She sheds her black hoodie and baseball cap on the couch, and slips off her sneakers under the coffee table. It's all the comfort she's afforded before there's a soft knock at the front door.
"Good evening, ma'am" he greets warmly with the tip of his cap. She's taken aback by how courteous the short handyman is. She's passed him a few times in the corridors of the complex. He always has a bright smile and friendly regard for her. She figures he's one of those people that wake up singing 'Zip-a-dee-doo-dah' every morning, and that assumption annoys her before it's even proven.
"I'm Felix" he introduces, though the nametag is an obvious giveaway. "Felix Fix, Jr. but everyone around here calls me Fix-it Felix, ma'am."
She cocks an eyebrow at the punned nickname. It suits the handyman though. "Tamora Calhoun," she offers her own, minus a punned nickname.
"Well, Miss Calhoun, let's see what's melting your ice."
Tamora shows Felix to the fridge even though he could have found it himself. He tells her as they walk to the kitchen that he lives on the bottom floor in her building not far from the stairs. No wonder she's encountered him more than once whenever she descends from the second floor.
Felix doesn't exactly make small talk as he gets to work examining the freezer. He does ask her how long she's lived in Niceland and where she's from. Tamora's answers are cut and simple. Trying to be courteous since the man is in her apartment fixing her freezer after work hours, she asks him the same questions.
"I come from a lovely town in Georgia," he provides with a proud gleam in his round, blue eyes. "Best pecan pies in the south."
"Georgia, ah?" That explains the accent. "I was stationed in Albany for 6 months during my early days in the Marines."
Felix is overtly excited to find out she occupied Georgia, even if it was for only half a year. He wants to know how she liked it, but honestly, she didn't see much of the city, let alone the state itself. Felix rambles on about all the sights to see in his home state if she ever makes it back there as he works his magic on the freezer. Tamora listens, half-interested. She'll probably never go back to the Peach State again, but some of the sights Felix mentions sound worthy of a visit.
An hour later, the freezer is producing cold air again and her future ice cream purchases are safe to make a home there. She watches Felix pack up and knows she should be relieved that he's finished, but Tamora can't help but feel a slight disappointment. She pushes the unwanted feeling into a drawer in the back of her mind. She's in no shape to entertain company.
Felix informs her if she ever needs anything just give him a call or stop by his apartment. "Good evening, ma'am" he echoes his earlier greeting into a goodbye with another tip of his cap. Then he's gone.
Tamora plants her bottom on the couch, flipping on the television. Another lonely night awaits her; another chance of him coming to haunt her dreams.
A week later she finds herself in the fitness room at midnight. She's been restless and hardly sleeping, her mind a crazy mix of bloody images of war and of a friendly little handyman she wants to forget. It's hard to forget the handyman though when he lives right under her own apartment.
"Jiminy, Miss Calhoun, you're here late," a familiarly cheerful voice says as she enters the fitness room. Tamora flinches, restraining the urge to reach for a gun that isn't strapped to her side. Felix notices her surprise, and holds up his gloved hands as an apologetic smile crosses his face. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to scare you."
Tamora burns holes into the poor handyman's forehead. "I don't scare, Fix-it." And she realizes she uses his nickname. Why does she even remember the silly little thing? "Don't you ever sleep?"
Felix 's cheeks turn a touch of red. "Fixing things is a 24 hour job around this place with the complex being so big and all." He straightens his blue cap just a tad, though Tamora can tell it's just a nervous reaction. "Good thing I enjoy my job."
"Yeah," she agrees just for the sake of replying then goes about her business with weight training. She has nothing to say to the handyman, but she's sure he has plenty to talk about. He's still there working on the treadmill after 20 minutes, and Tamora finally gives in. She asks him about the restaurants in Niceland, and Felix is all too happy to tell her which is the best.
"There's a little mom and pop restaurant a couple miles down the road. Blink and you'll miss it, but they make the most delicious roast beef sandwich. I'd be fat as a hog in slop if I ate there every day."
An image of Felix munching on a roast beef sandwich while rolling around in a puddle of brown gravy crosses Tamora's mind. She shakes it away. At least stranger things have popped in her head.
"If you ever wanna get a sandwich there," Felix continues and blast it, Tamora knows where this is going, "I'll go with you or meet you there or-"
"I'm not much of a roast beef fan," she interjects quickly, and something she has rarely felt creeps up her spine – nervousness. "I'm getting tired and I have an early wakeup call ahead of me." She replaces the weights and heads toward her escape. "See ya around, Fix-It."
She doesn't encounter him in the corridors of the complex for several days. She realizes how much she's paying attention to their encounters when she realizes she's been counting the days since she last saw him.
It's by chance her freezer begins to act up again. She hesitates to call the handyman, but knows it's enviable. Felix eagerly agrees to stop by an hour after she gets off work. By the time Tamora arrives home, the new carton of ice cream has softened significantly. It'd be a shame to waste another carton.
"You have anywhere to be after this, Fix-It?" she asks Felix as soon as he's done with pleasantries.
Felix pauses in the kitchen doorway, toolbox in hand. "No, ma'am. Just goin' home for the evening."
"You like ice cream?"
"I do," he answers, sounding more like a question.
"Good." Tamora strides to the fridge, pulling out the carton of cookie dough ice cream. She grabs two spoons from the drain board, and nods to Felix as she pushes passed him to follow her to the couch. His expression is a mix of bashfulness and utter bafflement as he plants down on the cushion next to her.
Tamora cracks the ice cream lid off and hands him a spoon. It's not every day she asks – or more like commands – a complete stranger to sit on her couch and munch on dessert as if they're best pals. But since she has to keep interacting with the blushing little handyman, might as well make use out of him.
Felix timidly scoops a spoonful of ice cream, and stays suspiciously quiet. Tamora turns her spoon upside down as she slides it from her mouth, making sure all the dessert is accounted for before stating, "Caught you off guard, Fix-it?"
Felix's cheeks shade a tint of red. "A little, ma'am. Folks give me food all the time, but never has anyone asked me to share a tub of ice cream with them."
"Would you feel better if I offered a bowl?"
"That's okay, Miss Calhoun. I don't mind sharing with a pretty lady." He says the last two words so adorably sweet and innocent that Tamora wants to slap him because this man can't be for real. Even with her disbelief, he oddly intrigues her.
It isn't until after he fixes the loose cable in the freezer again that Tamora asks, "Where's that restaurant you were talking about with the roast beef sandwiches?"
"Just a couple miles down the road if you take a right." She can literally see his eyes brighten as he answers. "I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but I thought you weren't a fan of roast beef."
Tamora shrugs. "I'll try it."
"Perhaps you wanna go? They're open for another hour." She's relieved he asks again (though it doesn't show on her steely features), because it was hard enough bringing up the subject as is.
"I can eat."