Door To Door

Customer Type #4: The Ones Who Don't Answer The Door

He's about to nod, before remembering the pain he went through just to try and climb a few flights of stairs that morning. "Actually, I think I'll just have a salad," he tells her. Beth raises her eyebrows.

"A salad? You want a salad?"

"Nothing wrong with a change," Hudson says weakly. 

She studies him for a moment, before shrugging. "Alright," she concedes, scribbling down his order. "But Jesse isn't gonna be happy. He's already got your burger on the grill."

Hudson feels an unexpected rush of warmth course through him at the words. "He has?" 

"Uh huh," Beth nods, then adds, with a wry smile, "I'll tell him to pack it up for you to take home."

"No, you don't - "

"Hudson, do you have anybody at home who knows how to cook a decent meal?"

"I..." he trails off. When she put it that way...

"I thought so," Beth looks triumphant. "I'll tell him to pack it up for you to take home," she repeats. This time, Hudson doesn't protest , instead giving her a grateful look. 

"One salad coming right up," she tells him, moving away. He smiles and leans into the seat of the booth, the rush of warmth still lingering within him. If he closes his eyes, he almost feels...at home. Like less of a stranger and more of someone who belongs here. 

The bell of the shop door tings. Out of force of habit, Hudson's eyes stray towards the door, but he doesn't feel a surge of surprise at the sight of Piper stepping into the diner. 

(She's too much of a regular and so is he. He wonders absently if she's noticed him yet. He's always made a habit of sitting in a booth near the back, so maybe not.)

What does invoke a stir of interest is Piper choosing not to take her lunch in a paper bag and walk straight back out of the door, but instead going to sit down at a table, taking out a leatherbound planner and beginning to scribble in it.

"Hm," Hudson hums to himself, trying to keep himself from watching her too closely. Her hair swings prettily across her face, falling just shy of her shoulders, but enough for Hudson not to actually see her - which is perhaps for the best, since him and Piper don't exactly have a great track record.

Him and Piper. He snorts to himself. As if there's a him and Piper. 

A small, whimsical part of him debates just going over and sitting down next to her, even though he knows it is something that will never happen. Hi, he would say. You probably want to cut off my balls just for sitting ten yards within your near vicinity, but since we can see into each other's flats pretty much twenty-four seven, and the landlord is a dick and won't let me put up curtains, perhaps we should get to know each other a little better. Because I like to not have to dress fully first thing in the morning just to go out and make myself some breakfast. A guy needs some quality time with his boxers, y'know? And I'm sure you...okay, well...maybe...never mind...

I even manage to screw up in my mind, Hudson thinks ruefully, pursing his lips. His own awkwardness notwithstanding, he would like to know Piper better, and not just because she's really, really attractive. He thinks it would be nice to do stupid things like write each other notes and press them up against the window, or communicate with sign language, or come up with a whole new code they could use that involves flashlights. It's stupid, but he lives for the stupid things.  

Although somehow, he doubts that she does too.

"One salad," a waitress who isn't Beth slides his dish onto the table. "With added fried chicken chunks and extra mayonnaise."

Hudson frowns. "But I didn't ask for added- "

"Compliments of the chef," the waitress cuts him off, grinning. Hudson looks up to find Jesse smiling in their direction, giving Hudson a salute with his spatula when they make eye contact."

"That's real nice of you guys," Hudson says quietly with a small smile. "Thank you."

"No prob, Hudson," the waitress smiles. "Anything for our favourite regular."                                              And yeah, okay, that makes Hudson grin like an idiot. 

☒

Hudson is on a metaphorical high when he rings the doorbell of his next prospective customer, having garnered sixteen donations and seven sponsorships in the past half hour. His track record is ruined, however, when he presses the small button of the doorbell for the third time and the door fails to be opened. 

Shrugging, he slots a leaflet through the letterbox of the porch door, hesitates, then grabs a start-up pack out of his bag, deciding to add it in for good measure.

Logic has never been Hudson's strong point. Most people would've realise that a pack of that particular size would not have fit through said letterbox, no matter how much shoving was involved.

Logic has never been Hudson's strong point. 

"Fit - through - the - damn - hole - god - damnit - !" he chokes out through gritted teeth, leaning his entire weight against the door as he tries to fit the pack through the damn hole. 

Then, the burglar alarm goes off. 

"Shit!" he shouts over the shrill squealing of the alarm, letting the pack slip through his fingers. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" Hudson makes a beeline for the the road, running through the front garden and vaulting over the low fence, not even bothering to go through the gate. A small voice in the back of his head points out that he'll look even more like an actual burglar now, but most of him is completely focused on distancing himself as far as possible from the house whose alarm he has set off, letting his feet move with a speed he didn't know he had through random streets until he can only hear the high pitched screeching as an echo in his head.

"Oh my God," he manages through stuttering breaths as he leans against a random building. "Oh my God."

Hudson is never leaving start-up packages at doors again.

☒

Piper is already home when Hudson enters his flat - a bit of a change, since she actually usually finishes later than him. She sits cross-legged on her couch, typing at her laptop. She seems so fixated on what she's doing that she doesn't even notice him come into his own apartment, something that Hudson thinks to himself is probably for the best, considering post I-set-off-the-burglar-alarm-in-someone's-house-but-I'm-not-a-burglar-but-I-ran-away-anyway is most likely not the best look on him. 

In fact, Hudson considers as he stretches out with a yawn. It's late.

(Okay, it's eight thirty. Not the point.)

He'll just go to sleep now, he decides. He can have the burger they gave him at the diner this afternoon for breakfast. Or something. Either way, he's not in the mood to spend his night in the complete view of Piper, scary hot attractive girl wonder. 

Blinking with tired eyes, he gives her another glance - she's still completely focused on her laptop. Before he can convince himself that it's a bad idea, he grabs a random notebook from the coffee table and a large blue marker, then scribbles something onto the paper. Casting around for some sellotape, he finds some, then presses the paper to his window and taping it on. Piper doesn't look up, but he figures she'll see it eventually. He yawns, thinks about he wrote, tells himself that it's good enough, then heads for his bedroom.

Hi. I'm Hudson (your neighbour). How 'bout these windows, huh?