TANK

31 (fluff, SMUT)

I coast through the rest of the week, only mildly disappointed when the weekend passes without seeing Tank. Our conversation is limited, him insanely busy taking care of matters at work.

Around Tuesday I start to get fussy, sending Tank texts on every whim. I send him little 'i miss you's and notes about my day and what I'm doing at random times. Something settles low in my stomach, realizing how dependent I've become on the time I get to spend with him. He responds when he can, but it usually isn't much.

Finally, Wednesday morning, I get the texts I've been desperate for.

Tank
3 New Messages

'Hey. I'm headed home right now.' 9:03 am

'Don't be worried, but I had a close call with some debris, got a minor cut on my arm, so they sent me home to rest for the day.' 9:04 am

'I want to see you. Just know I'll probably be sleeping for most of it.' 9:04 am

I read the texts, heart in my throat.

'i'll come over as soon i'm done with class 🥰' 9:06 am

'I'll leave the door unlocked.' 9:07 am

I exhale a shaky breath, gathering the conviction I need to finish my class. The second it's over I'm up, running into the shower. I get ready in record time, carefully selecting what underwear I plan to throw on Tank's floor.

I'm out of the house by 11 am. I stop to get coffee along the way, for both of us. I want him awake. I arrive at his apartment shortly after, balancing both of our drinks as I climb the stairs up to Tank's apartment. I pause at the door, fumbling with the drinks for a moment just as the door across the hall swings open.

I turn my head instinctively, locking eyes with a surprised looking man. "Hey!" I chirp, trying to sound friendly. His eyes follow the movement of my hand, gripped to Tank's door handle, and his face hardens. "You must be the screamer." He says. I freeze, eyes flicking up to his door.

Ah. Apartment 32.

I feel my face immediately heat with embarrassment as I fumble to open the door. It finally yields. "Sorry!" I yelp, high-pitched, as I shoulder my way inside and close the door as quick as I can behind me.

I exhale a sharp breath, feeling my heart thump in my chest as I quickly lock the door. Fucking yikes. I shiver, trying to shake the embarrassment as I call Tank's name, looking around.

I get no response. Remembering he told me he'd likely be sleeping, I kick my shoes off and head back to his room to see if he's in there. I find him lying on his back in bed, just in boxers, blanket halfway on his legs. His breathing is slow, rhythmic. He's obviously asleep or close to. I close his bedroom door behind me, locking it, like I can make more space between me and the neighbor.

When I look back, Tank shifts, extending his arm at his side. My heart clenches as I see his forearm wrapped in gauze. It looks a lot less minor than he described it. I feel my heart go soft for him, striding over to drop our drinks on his desk. We can be awake some other time, right now I just want to be close with him.

I drop my phone, wallet and keys as well, then crawl into bed, laying on top of Tank. I bury myself in his chest, looping my arms around him as I settle into the warmth of his body.