𝙷𝙱𝙾 𝚆𝚊𝚛 𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜

Rock, Paper, Scissors | Evan Stafford

There's literally almost zero fics out there for Gen Kill and it's a real mood dampener. Q-Tip is getting some of my love today. Maybe Lilley will be next.

Gender neutral reader. College and neighbors AU. I also kinda think that this piece is like the beginning of a rom com kinda lmao. Had a starting idea, then later added the tumblr post about a door and getting hit on. Some cursing.

~~~

"Jesus fucking Christ, when will they ever shut up?" your roommate groaned as she buried her head under her pillow.

"You're telling me. I've been sitting at this table for the past 10 hours; you'd think they'd have let up by now." you agreed, flipping through the pages of your notebook.

"If they don't shut up, I'm going up there and trashing the place." Your roommate looked murderous with rage.

"What's stopping you from doing it now?"

Your roommate squeaked in indignation. "I will not."

"You just--"

"I know what I said. I'm not going up there. I'm civilized enough to wait until they're sleeping or until they leave for a bit." She paused before adding, "You go up there."

"Hell no!" you frowned, holding up your notebook. "I got a test to study for!"

Your friend glared at you. You glared back just as hard.

Finally, your roommate broke. "Fine. How about we Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who gets to go upstairs to tell the neighbors they're being too loud, okay?"

You sighed in defeat. You would get nowhere by refusing to play. You reluctantly set down your pen and turned to your roommate, hands ready. Maybe a quick hike up the stairs might do you some good. You probably needed a break, but you weren't going to tell your roommate that.

"Best two out of three?"

You nodded. "Ready?"

Three matches later, you were shrugging on a hoodie and your shoes as your roommate waved you goodbye with a smirk.

"Have fun, sweetie."

"Yeah, yeah." you grumbled, shutting the door behind you.

"Have fun, sweetie." you mimicked your friend with a high-pitched voice as you trekked up the stairs. "'You'll be fine', she said. 'You'll have nothing to worry about', she said."

You eventually found the room above yours. (It wasn't that hard. Just follow the music.) Taking a deep breath and releasing it, you knocked on the door.

A moment passed and the door flew open. You were greeted with the sight of a tall man around his mid-twenties in a do-rag, and of course, loud music. He looked you up and down like he had never seen you before, a smirk etched onto his face.

Fuck, his eyes are pretty. Why didn't I complain about the music sooner?

When he met your gaze though, his face seemed to morph from one of cocky nonchalance to one of awe and 'whoa' and back again for a split second.

"Yeah?"

You frowned again. "Stop looking at me up and down."

"Sorry. You need somethin'?"

"Yes, actually. I need you to just lower the volume of your music a bit. My friend and I are trying to study."

"Hmm, no can do." He shrugged. "Ain't that what the library's for?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Dude. Seriously. It's just the volume. I'm not asking you to turn it completely off."

You paused, then added as an afterthought, "Also, if you haven't noticed--which you probably haven't--the library is all the way across campus and I really don't want to get up. I was on a roll until I had to come up here and tell you to turn your music down."

The man laughed. "It's a Saturday, dawg. It's the day to take a break from education for a while."

"I know that, and I'd rather not study. But I've got a test on Monday and your music isn't helping."

The man studied at you for a long moment before replying.

"Screwby, dawg. That ain't my problem."

He made to close the door, but you stuck your foot between the door and the door frame at the last minute and poked your finger to his chest.

"Listen, buddy. My friend's had a rough week and I'm trying to study. All I'm asking is that you lower the volume for a few hours. So it would be super great, and super nice, if you could do that until we come up with a compromise."

The man opened the door a little so you could move your foot, but then shut the door on you. You felt the wood hit your nose and you jumped back, hissing in pain.

"My name's Evan, by the way!" the man called through the door. "You're pretty cute."

"Yeah, yeah." you grumbled, walking back down the hall and down the stairs to your dorm room. "'Go talk to the neighbors upstairs', she said. 'You'll be fine', she said."

You shut your room door behind you and made your way to the bathroom. Your nose didn't look too bad, it'd probably bruise over but that was about it.

"Jesus, what magic did you pull off?" your roommate called from her room. "The music stopped!"

You noticed the music had indeed almost disappeared as you grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and held it to your nose gingerly. "I dunno, I just asked the guy to turn down his music and he said no, slammed the door in my face--which hurt a lot, by the way, can you tell?" You held up the ice pack. "Then called me--"

Your eyes grew wide as your train of thought was cut short.

"Holy shit."

"What? What happened? Are you remembering the magic you did? Can you do that to our neighbors next door too?"

"No, no. He slammed the door on my nose and called me cute...I just got hit on."

Your roommate came out of her room and met you in the kitchen. "You're kidding me."

"I just got hit on and I didn't even notice. Oh my god, I'm such a fucking idiot." you laughed to yourself, flopping onto the couch.

"He slammed the door and called you cute....you lucky idiot. Was he cute, though?"

You paused. "Yeah. He had pretty eyes. And holy shit, his jawline too."

"Well, whoever he is, he's got mad game. I give him ten points for executing that perfectly."

A knock interrupted your conversation. Your friend answered the door, but no one was there. Your friend came back a few seconds later, handing you a slip of paper.

"I think Pretty Eyes Boy from upstairs has a note for you."

You took the paper from her and read the note. You noticed it included a phone number under the text.

Sorry about the music. Maybe you text me when you'll be in so I can turn the music down?
Or just text me whenever?

xxx-xxx-xxxx

-Evan :)

Grinning, you put the note down and put the ice pack back on your nose. You'd get around to texting him later.