Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

I've Noticed // Danny Wagner

Warnings: none apart from mere mentioning of alcohol. Pure fluff!

Are we all yearning? I know I am and, as you all know, always for this beautiful, sweet prince. Thank you so much to my main boo ​for the request! I think we could all use some Danny in our lives. I hope you enjoy!

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"Leaves are falling all around," sang the gentle, deep voice from the adjacent wall, muffled by the wall itself and obstructed by the sound of the water from the shower.

"It's time I was on my way," you sang absentmindedly on the couch, your cup of coffee and breakfast on the coffee table in front of you. You reached for the mug, listening for the next lyrics.

"Thanks to you I'm much obliged," the voice sang, a little louder.

"For such a pleasant stay," you sang, also louder, trying to match your neighbor.

This was a near-daily occurrence. You wondered if your neighbor, whom you'd only seen in passing, heard you or perhaps his own voice and the shower and the wall were too much and you were drowned out. You liked to think, however, that he did hear you, especially since he would give you these shy smiles when you passed in the halls or outside the building.

It was always a rush to see him. He was so alluring–handsome in the most striking way–with his long, thick dark hair and the brows that matched, raising a little when his eyes landed on yours. He'd offer the familiar little smile, one corner of his mouth curving up, and give you a nod. One time you saw him carrying a crate of books up the stairs and you had to stop in your tracks to watch him move–those broad, strong shoulders shifting under his t-shirt as he adjusted the crate in his arms, his quads visibly tensing under his jeans with each step.

Beyond his beauty, what made him even more alluring was how sweet and gentle he seemed. He also never made a peep other than singing in the shower and playing music–often times it was Led Zeppelin–and strumming a guitar.

You kept singing along with him, trying to think of his name. His last name was on the mailbox but you were grappling for his first name. You'd never been formally introduced but you must have seen it somewhere or heard it somehow. Or perhaps your mind was making all that up because you were so desperate to talk to him. After all, it had been months of nonverbal passes in the halls and outside and your little crush didn't seem to be going away.

You had to talk to him.

You bolted upright on the couch, taking another sip of coffee before heading to the bathroom. You knew he left his apartment around 9am most days and today you were determined to truly bump into him.

It may have been ridiculous to stand outside your door listening for your mystery neighbor to leave but you were over playing around. You needed to talk to him.

You listened for him to open his door, waited for the sound of it being shut, then bolted out of your apartment with your heart beating wildly. He was still locking his door when you turned around; you paused for a second before stepping forward so you were next to one another.

"Good morning," you said, nervous beyond belief and still feeling a little ridiculous yet even more determined.

"Oh hey," he said, smiling at you, eyes averting to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "Good morning."

You both hesitated, just looking at one another. You were hoping the extra care you'd put into your appearance was working but it was hard to tell what he was thinking; you were also hoping that he would be the first one to truly break the ice but, when he very politely extended his arm to let you go ahead of him, you realized that was on you.