New neighbours
The rumble of engines was the first thing you noticed about the neighborhood. Not a bad rumble, a deep, powerful one that vibrated through the soles of your feet.
You'd just moved into the quaint little house across the street, a fresh start, and the source of the noise was immediately apparent: a collection of gleaming motorcycles and souped-up cars scattered across the yard of the house opposite. Two figures, a blonde one tall and lanky with a mischievous grin, the other broad-shouldered flaming red hair , were tinkering with a particularly impressive chopper.
Both men were handsome in there own right . Metal music played from their garage .
You were used to turning heads, but the intensity of their gazes as you unpacked the last of your boxes was a little unnerving. Still, you smiled, a warm, genuine smile, and offered a small wave.
The broad Red head you'd later learn was Kidd, returned the smile with a flash of white teeth,
while the other, Killer, gave a subtle nod.
Days turned into weeks, and the routine became familiar.
You'd step out for groceries, a walk, or just to enjoy the sunshine, and their eyes would follow, not in a creepy way, but with a quiet, almost curious observation. A smile and a wave became a daily ritual.
One particularly sunny afternoon, you noticed your grass had grown a bit unruly. You'd been meaning to get to it, but unpacking and settling in had taken priority. You stepped outside, sighing slightly at the overgrown lawn, when you heard the familiar roar of an engine.
Looking up, you saw Kidd, pushing a bright red lawnmower across the street. Killer was standing beside him, arms crossed, a silent observer.
"Hey, your grass looked a bit... enthusiastic," Kidd called out, a playful grin on his face. "Thought we'd give you a hand."
"Oh, you really don't have to," you protested, a little flustered.
"Nah, it's no problem," Kidd insisted, already starting the mower. "Killer's got a thing for neat lines."
Killer just nodded, his gaze fixed on the task at hand. The rhythmic whir of the mower filled the air, and you watched as they transformed your unruly lawn into a neat, green carpet. Kidd, despite his rough exterior, was meticulous, and Killer, surprisingly, had an eye for precision.
When they were finished, Kidd wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk on his face. "There you go. Good as new."
"Thank you," you said, genuinely touched. "That's incredibly kind of you both."
"Anytime," Kidd replied, his eyes sparkling. "Maybe we could have a barbecue sometime? Get to know our new neighbor."
Killer nodded in agreement.
"I'd like that," you said, your smile widening. "I'd like that very much."
The barbecue was set for Saturday afternoon. The air buzzed with a different kind of energy than the usual engine roar. A smoky aroma mingled with the sweet scent of grilling meat, and the yard, usually a workshop, was transformed into a makeshift patio, fairy lights strung between the motorcycles.
You brought a large bowl of potato salad and a homemade apple pie, feeling a little nervous but also excited. Kidd, ever the gregarious host, immediately put you at ease, introducing you to a few other friends who'd shown up. Killer, as always, was quieter, but his presence was warm and welcoming.
Kidd, with a flourish, presented a plate piled high with perfectly grilled ribs. "My specialty," he announced, a grin splitting his face. "Though Killer here did most of the actual cooking."
Killer gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, but a hint of a smile played on his lips. The food was delicious, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in months.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard, the conversation turned to music. Kidd, it turned out, had a surprisingly eclectic taste, ranging from classic rock to obscure indie bands. Killer, though less vocal, revealed a fondness for jazz.
"You play anything?" Kidd asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"I used to play guitar," you admitted, a little shyly. "But it's been a while."
"Well, we have one," Kidd said, gesturing towards a battered acoustic guitar leaning against a motorcycle. "Dusty, but functional."
You hesitated, then, emboldened by the warm atmosphere and a glass of wine, you picked up the guitar. Your fingers, stiff at first, gradually remembered the familiar chords. You started with a simple melody, then moved on to a few old favorites.
As you played, a hush fell over the gathering. Kidd listened intently, his eyes fixed on you, while Killer leaned against a motorcycle, a thoughtful expression on his face. The music, a mix of familiar tunes and improvised melodies, filled the air, weaving a spell of intimacy and connection.
When you finished, a round of applause broke the silence. Kidd, his eyes shining, raised his glass. "You're good," he said, his voice sincere. "Really good."
"Yeah," Killer added, his voice quiet but firm. "Very good."
The compliment, coming from him, meant more than you expected. You felt a warmth spread through you, a feeling of belonging you hadn't experienced in a long time. As the evening drew to a close, and the last of the guests departed, Kidd walked you to your door.
"Thanks for coming," he said, his voice soft. "It was... nice."
"It was," you agreed, smiling up at him. "Really nice."
"We should do it again sometime," he said, his eyes lingering on yours.
"I'd like that," you replied. "Very much." As you stepped into your house, you looked back to see Killer and Kidd standing in the warm glow of the fairy lights, a silent understanding passing between them. You smiled, a feeling of contentment settling over you. You had a feeling this was the start of something special.
Days passed with this new routine of yelling out across the road to each-other .
The sun beat down on the asphalt, the heat shimmering in the air.
You'd decided to water your flowerbeds, a task made infinitely more interesting by the sight across the street. Kidd, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was wrestling with a particularly stubborn motorcycle engine. His muscles flexed and rippled as he worked, a testament to the hours he spent tinkering and riding. A stray lock of red hair fell across his forehead, and he pushed it back with a grease-stained hand.
You watched, a small smile playing on your lips, as he swore under his breath, then let out a triumphant whoop as the engine finally roared to life. He wiped his hands on a rag, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
"Looking good, neighbor!" you called out, leaning against your garden fence, a playful glint in your eyes.
Kidd turned, his grin widening as he saw you. "Hey there," he replied, his voice slightly breathless. "Just taming this beast."
"More like wrestling a wild animal," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "And looking good doing it."
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made you shiver slightly.
"Oh, you think so?"
"Oh, I know so," you purred, a mischievous smile spreading across your face.
"Hey! Thanks for the view !" you called out, the words a playful catcall that made Kidd freeze for a split second, then burst into laughter.
Killer, who'd been silently observing from the shade of the garage, let out a quiet snort. Even he seemed amused. Kidd, still chuckling, walked towards the fence, wiping his hands on his pants.
"You're terrible," he said, shaking his head, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "But I like it."
"Just calling it like I see it," you replied, your smile widening.
"Besides, you were practically begging for it."
"Was I?" he asked, leaning against the fence, his eyes fixed on yours.
"Definitely," you said, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "All that flexing and grunting? Pure performance art."
Kidd laughed again, a genuine, hearty laugh that filled the air. "Alright, alright, you got me," he admitted, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But just so you know, I'm not always this easy to fluster."
"Oh, I'm counting on it," you replied, your eyes sparkling with playful challenge. "I'm a big fan of a good challenge."
He grinned, a flash of white teeth against his tanned skin. "Then consider yourself challenged," he said, his voice low and husky.
The air crackled with unspoken tension, a playful undercurrent that made your heart beat a little faster. Killer, still leaning against the garage, watched the exchange with a quiet amusement, a subtle smile playing on his lips. You knew, in that moment, that things were about to get interesting.