Imagines | Reservoir Dogs

Locked Out (Mr. Orange)

Summary: You and Freddy get locked out of the house on the hottest day of the summer and try to figure out how to cool off.

It had been nine days since you and Freddy moved into your new house in the suburbs. You'd been saving together for nearly a year now, desperate to get out of his 600 square foot apartment and settle down somewhere more spacey without tacking on an extra thousand dollars a month. The two of you came to an agreement that the only way to really do that was to get out of the city. Luckily, after some extensive house hunting, you found the perfect place that wasn't too far from the station and much more livable than the apartment.

You both stood in the kitchen, emptying the last few boxes for the dining area. Freddy cut a slit in the tape on an unmarked box and dug through it while you set up the last of your books on a shelf near the back door. He slid the box on the counter next to him and repeated on another, searching inside it as you stood back to examine the current state of the wall.

"Hey babe?" he called out, hardly looking up.

You turned to look over your shoulder. "Hm?"

"Can you help me take these to the garage?" Freddy picked up the heavier of the two from the kitchen counter, gesturing to the smaller box as you made eye contact. You hauled it into your arms and followed him to the back door.

It was a glass panel door—the type you have to slide on its tracks to open. Freddy clawed at the thin handle, his hands too full to use any more than his forearms. He forced it open hard, clearly straining his fingers at the weight of it. Wincing at the sound of the glass screeching against metal, you hurried past him onto the shaded back porch. The afternoon sun beat down on the concrete, the water in your pool nearly dead still from the absence of a breeze.

"Dammit." The door screeched again as Freddy pushed it only a few inches, huffing in frustration as he set the box on the ground and used the full force of both arms to slam it shut. You heard a metallic thump from inside the house and prayed nothing fell off the shelf you'd just finished.

There was one thing you didn't like about the new house: the garage. It was its own separate entity, existing halfway in the backyard and the other half in the front to meet the driveway. And the only way to access it from the rest of the house was to go outside.

Thankfully, the cobblestone path that let to the garage from the backyard was a redeeming factor. At least you didn't have to walk through the grass.

You trailed close behind Freddy, the heat of the California sun already trapping itself beneath your baggy t-shirt. There was a mutual relieved sigh from each of you as you found shelter in the shade of the garage, and you found a place on an old table to set down the box. Freddy tugged at the bottom of his shirt to fan himself. He popped open the fridge and leaned against the top of it, shoving his face in to enjoy the cold breeze for a few seconds before swinging the door shut.

By then, you were both beginning to feel the sweltering heat of the garage—much stuffier and arguably more unbearable than outside, and you wondered how it had felt like a relief just a minute ago. You waited in the open doorway for Freddy, signaling for him to hurry as the metal knob was burning your hand.

"Christ," he panted as he hustled behind you, eager to get back to the air conditioning. "Like a fuckin' furnace in there."

You hopped off the stone trail and past the pool, a small hum escaping your throat as the cool shade put out the fire on your skin. Your hand was instantly on the handle and you yanked it hard, straining your arm as it refused to open. Readjusting your feet, you tried it again, this time with both hands.

"Babe? Um—"

You turned around as Freddy stepped onto the back porch, pointing weakly to the door. He nodded and maneuvered past you, gripping the door handle and pulling it hard. As he did, you peered in through the glass, your eyes falling on a single metal bar blocking the panel from sliding.