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twobirdsonesongTitle: Elevator Pitch
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Rating/Length: G / ~1,700
el·e·va·tor pitch
noun, informal
a succinct and persuasive sales pitch.
Read on AO3
His name is Chris, he has a dog, and he lives on the 8th floor. He owns a lot of button-down shirts, sometimes wear dark-framed glasses, and does not like it when it rains. These are the things Darren knows about him.
Chris walks his dog often, he owns multiple pairs of Converse (red, black, and blue), and he does not have a paper subscription to the New York Times. These are other things Darren knows about him.
Chris moved in when Darren wasn’t paying attention. He has nice hair and thick wrists and Darren is in love with him.
Or at least hopelessly infatuated with a man who probably doesn’t even know his name. It happens.
***
Darren has lived in his building a couple of years and he still doesn’t know the names of a majority of his neighbors. It’s an unappealing personality trait he’s perfectly aware of and hasn’t gotten around to fixing. He knows the guys below him can’t shut a door quietly, and that the family across the hall cooks the most amazing smelling dinners nearly every night. He knows at least half the building owns a dog, but thankfully none of them bark at 3 o’clock in the morning. Yet. He’s got earplugs just in case though.
And then Chris moved in and Darren wasn’t paying attention until it was too late to introduce himself without looking like a complete idiot.
He tried anyway.
Darren tried to say hello one morning in the elevator. It was early and it was Tuesday and Darren was not expecting the elevator to stop on eight instead of going all the way down to the lobby. He’d been prepared to glare at the person who interrupted his travel, but then Chris had gotten into the elevator. Tall and slim, Chris had stepped into the elevator and just barely acknowledged Darren with a nod before turning around and facing the closing doors.
He stared at Chris’ profile until they reached the lobby and didn’t manage to get the greeting past the pulse in his throat. And then Chris was gone and out of the building almost before Darren found his feet and stepped out of the elevator.
***
Darren tries again a few weeks later, but realizes too late that Chris is wearing headphones and won’t hear him as he says “hi.”
He blushes a furious red and stares at his shoes the rest of the way.
***
Darren doesn’t see Chris every day, maybe once a week, depending on what he’s got going on, and if he’s decided to not be a lazy fuck and take the stairs. (Darren takes the stairs less often now that he knows there’s another reason to take the elevator.)
He found out Chris’ name by snooping. One evening, early on, Chris got into the elevator with a handful of mail and Darren did his best to not get caught snooping the name on the envelopes.
Chris. It had seemed like a fitting name, for all that Darren knew about him. At that point he knew very little, less than he does now, which is saying something. He doesn’t even know what Chris’ voice sounds like.
Sometimes Chris has his dog – a big golden thing who thumps Darren’s legs with his tail and is afraid of strollers – and sometimes he doesn’t. Normally Darren would use the dog as an in to start a conversation, but Chris is so quiet, seemingly so aloof that even ‘hi’ gets stuck in Darren’s throat. Darren settles for patting on the dog on his flank and getting another solid thump in return.
He always just seems to run out of time, time to even just say ‘hello’ before the elevator stops on Chris’ floor and he’s gone, striding down the hallway towards his door. Darren doesn’t have this problem anywhere else; he’s never had a problem chatting up a bartender or getting a guy to give him his number. But with Chris, those spare seconds in that close little room, Darren just can’t make it happen.
***
After a night out with some friends who rib him hard for not getting laid in months, Darren makes a resolution. He’s going to say to ‘hi’ to his neighbor like a normal fucking human being. He’s going to do it the next time Chris gets in the elevator with him.
***
He doesn’t see Chris for two weeks. Not in the morning. Not in the evening. Not any time in between.
Darren sulks. He sulks at home crashed on his couch flicking through Netflix and he sulks every time someone who isn’t Chris gets on the elevator. He even thinks about asking the doorman if he happens knows where he went.
He doesn’t ask. He has some pride left. For what little it’s worth.
***
Darren is wholly unprepared for the elevator to come to a halt on the 8th floor one morning.
Chris is wearing jeans and a blue button-down shirt and his hair is still a little damp at the ends. Darren’s stomach flips and his heart leaps into his throat. Chris has his phone out and he seems focused as he steps into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby even though it’s already lit. Chris’ wrists are strong and his forearms are oddly thick for how slim the rest of him is. Darren notices these things.
Darren’s chance has arrived once more. He has precious few seconds to do something, anything, before Chris slips away for another day.
He takes a deep, slow breath, and then says, “Morning.” The word comes out a little rushed, a little garbled, but it comes out nonetheless.
Chris glances up from his phone and politely responds, “morning.” And then he’s back to looking through his emails.
Darren’s shoulders slump, annoyed and embarrassed. He didn’t mean to trip into a mindless crush on a neighbor – not even a neighbor but someone who lives two floors down. And he certainly didn’t mean to do it with someone who obviously has taken no notice in him at all.
He doesn’t say anything else as the doors open to the lobby and waits a few seconds after Chris gets off so he isn’t following him so closely. Leslie, the doorman, gives him a look so sympathetic that Darren blushes.
***
Darren is not going to be that guy. He’s not going to try and pursue someone who isn’t into him. Except there’s a part of him that’s telling him he still doesn’t really know if Chris might be interested in him or not. They’ve exchanged two words; that’s not enough to base anything on. Not really. Maybe Chris was distracted. Maybe Chris was busy. Maybe he was stressed out about something going on at work.
For all the things Darren knows about Chris – his glasses, his dog, his newspaper subscriptions – he doesn’t even know what he does for a living. Darren has never seen him with a briefcase, and the fact that sometimes he sees Chris in the middle of the day suggests he doesn’t have a 9-5 job.
Maybe Darren just caught him at a bad time, on a bad time. Maybe it’s worth trying again.
But he’s not going to be that guy. He’ll give it another shot. Just the one. And if Chris still doesn’t seem interested then that’s that. Darren will just have to take the stairs for the rest of his life.
***
It takes 48 seconds for the elevator to get from the 8th floor to the lobby, or the other way around. That’s all the time Darren has. He’s got one shot and 48 seconds to take it. He’s definitely going to fuck it up.
He practices what he thinks he wants to say, pacing the length of his bedroom and muttering to himself like a madman. But he has to be prepared; he can’t be caught off guard again. He has to know what he’s going to say so the next time he sees Chris – whenever that is – he’ll be ready. He’s not going to be ready no matter what he does. It’s gone on too long, the stakes have been raised too high for something so simple. It can’t possibly go well.
It happens in the evening, instead of the morning. Darren has already pushed the button for his floor and the doors are beginning to close when someone comes dashing through the lobby, slipping into the elevator just in time.
It’s Chris, breathing a little fast and shaking the rain from his glasses.
He’s gorgeous, pink-cheeked and already digging in his pocket for his keys. Darren is loosing precious seconds. He takes a breath.
“So, I know you don’t know me, and you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but my name is Darren and I live on ten and I like you. I see you in the elevator all the time with your dog and we never talk, but I like your eyes and your wrists. I know this probably makes me look like a stalker or worse but I just, I just wanted to say hi and that I don’t know you, but I like you.”
Darren exhales, acutely aware of the red in his cheeks and how fast his heart is hammering as Chris stares at him with pale blue eyes.
And then slowly, a small smile curves Chris’ mouth. “What took you so long to talk to me?” He asks, voice soft and teasing.
Darren gapes. “I – well – why didn’t you talk to me?” He stammers out.
“Because, you always looked so…constipated around me. I wasn’t sure what was going on with you.”
“Constipated?”
Chris shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’m not,” Darren defends dumbly.
“Good to know,” Chris smirks.
The elevator dings and comes to a stop on the 8th floor. The doors open, but Chris doesn’t get out, just holds down the ‘door open’ button. Darren licks his lips.
“So…” Darren doesn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t prepare for this part.
“So, if I ask you if you want to come over will you say more to me than ‘morning’?”
Darren grins.
***
Chris also has a cat, likes Indian food, and writes books for a living.
And he smiles whenever Darren kisses him.
These are the things Darren is beginning to learn about him.
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Rating/Length: G / ~1,700
el·e·va·tor pitch
noun, informal
a succinct and persuasive sales pitch.
Read on AO3
His name is Chris, he has a dog, and he lives on the 8th floor. He owns a lot of button-down shirts, sometimes wear dark-framed glasses, and does not like it when it rains. These are the things Darren knows about him.
Chris walks his dog often, he owns multiple pairs of Converse (red, black, and blue), and he does not have a paper subscription to the New York Times. These are other things Darren knows about him.
Chris moved in when Darren wasn’t paying attention. He has nice hair and thick wrists and Darren is in love with him.
Or at least hopelessly infatuated with a man who probably doesn’t even know his name. It happens.
***
Darren has lived in his building a couple of years and he still doesn’t know the names of a majority of his neighbors. It’s an unappealing personality trait he’s perfectly aware of and hasn’t gotten around to fixing. He knows the guys below him can’t shut a door quietly, and that the family across the hall cooks the most amazing smelling dinners nearly every night. He knows at least half the building owns a dog, but thankfully none of them bark at 3 o’clock in the morning. Yet. He’s got earplugs just in case though.
And then Chris moved in and Darren wasn’t paying attention until it was too late to introduce himself without looking like a complete idiot.
He tried anyway.
Darren tried to say hello one morning in the elevator. It was early and it was Tuesday and Darren was not expecting the elevator to stop on eight instead of going all the way down to the lobby. He’d been prepared to glare at the person who interrupted his travel, but then Chris had gotten into the elevator. Tall and slim, Chris had stepped into the elevator and just barely acknowledged Darren with a nod before turning around and facing the closing doors.
He stared at Chris’ profile until they reached the lobby and didn’t manage to get the greeting past the pulse in his throat. And then Chris was gone and out of the building almost before Darren found his feet and stepped out of the elevator.
***
Darren tries again a few weeks later, but realizes too late that Chris is wearing headphones and won’t hear him as he says “hi.”
He blushes a furious red and stares at his shoes the rest of the way.
***
Darren doesn’t see Chris every day, maybe once a week, depending on what he’s got going on, and if he’s decided to not be a lazy fuck and take the stairs. (Darren takes the stairs less often now that he knows there’s another reason to take the elevator.)
He found out Chris’ name by snooping. One evening, early on, Chris got into the elevator with a handful of mail and Darren did his best to not get caught snooping the name on the envelopes.
Chris. It had seemed like a fitting name, for all that Darren knew about him. At that point he knew very little, less than he does now, which is saying something. He doesn’t even know what Chris’ voice sounds like.
Sometimes Chris has his dog – a big golden thing who thumps Darren’s legs with his tail and is afraid of strollers – and sometimes he doesn’t. Normally Darren would use the dog as an in to start a conversation, but Chris is so quiet, seemingly so aloof that even ‘hi’ gets stuck in Darren’s throat. Darren settles for patting on the dog on his flank and getting another solid thump in return.
He always just seems to run out of time, time to even just say ‘hello’ before the elevator stops on Chris’ floor and he’s gone, striding down the hallway towards his door. Darren doesn’t have this problem anywhere else; he’s never had a problem chatting up a bartender or getting a guy to give him his number. But with Chris, those spare seconds in that close little room, Darren just can’t make it happen.
***
After a night out with some friends who rib him hard for not getting laid in months, Darren makes a resolution. He’s going to say to ‘hi’ to his neighbor like a normal fucking human being. He’s going to do it the next time Chris gets in the elevator with him.
***
He doesn’t see Chris for two weeks. Not in the morning. Not in the evening. Not any time in between.
Darren sulks. He sulks at home crashed on his couch flicking through Netflix and he sulks every time someone who isn’t Chris gets on the elevator. He even thinks about asking the doorman if he happens knows where he went.
He doesn’t ask. He has some pride left. For what little it’s worth.
***
Darren is wholly unprepared for the elevator to come to a halt on the 8th floor one morning.
Chris is wearing jeans and a blue button-down shirt and his hair is still a little damp at the ends. Darren’s stomach flips and his heart leaps into his throat. Chris has his phone out and he seems focused as he steps into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby even though it’s already lit. Chris’ wrists are strong and his forearms are oddly thick for how slim the rest of him is. Darren notices these things.
Darren’s chance has arrived once more. He has precious few seconds to do something, anything, before Chris slips away for another day.
He takes a deep, slow breath, and then says, “Morning.” The word comes out a little rushed, a little garbled, but it comes out nonetheless.
Chris glances up from his phone and politely responds, “morning.” And then he’s back to looking through his emails.
Darren’s shoulders slump, annoyed and embarrassed. He didn’t mean to trip into a mindless crush on a neighbor – not even a neighbor but someone who lives two floors down. And he certainly didn’t mean to do it with someone who obviously has taken no notice in him at all.
He doesn’t say anything else as the doors open to the lobby and waits a few seconds after Chris gets off so he isn’t following him so closely. Leslie, the doorman, gives him a look so sympathetic that Darren blushes.
***
Darren is not going to be that guy. He’s not going to try and pursue someone who isn’t into him. Except there’s a part of him that’s telling him he still doesn’t really know if Chris might be interested in him or not. They’ve exchanged two words; that’s not enough to base anything on. Not really. Maybe Chris was distracted. Maybe Chris was busy. Maybe he was stressed out about something going on at work.
For all the things Darren knows about Chris – his glasses, his dog, his newspaper subscriptions – he doesn’t even know what he does for a living. Darren has never seen him with a briefcase, and the fact that sometimes he sees Chris in the middle of the day suggests he doesn’t have a 9-5 job.
Maybe Darren just caught him at a bad time, on a bad time. Maybe it’s worth trying again.
But he’s not going to be that guy. He’ll give it another shot. Just the one. And if Chris still doesn’t seem interested then that’s that. Darren will just have to take the stairs for the rest of his life.
***
It takes 48 seconds for the elevator to get from the 8th floor to the lobby, or the other way around. That’s all the time Darren has. He’s got one shot and 48 seconds to take it. He’s definitely going to fuck it up.
He practices what he thinks he wants to say, pacing the length of his bedroom and muttering to himself like a madman. But he has to be prepared; he can’t be caught off guard again. He has to know what he’s going to say so the next time he sees Chris – whenever that is – he’ll be ready. He’s not going to be ready no matter what he does. It’s gone on too long, the stakes have been raised too high for something so simple. It can’t possibly go well.
It happens in the evening, instead of the morning. Darren has already pushed the button for his floor and the doors are beginning to close when someone comes dashing through the lobby, slipping into the elevator just in time.
It’s Chris, breathing a little fast and shaking the rain from his glasses.
He’s gorgeous, pink-cheeked and already digging in his pocket for his keys. Darren is loosing precious seconds. He takes a breath.
“So, I know you don’t know me, and you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but my name is Darren and I live on ten and I like you. I see you in the elevator all the time with your dog and we never talk, but I like your eyes and your wrists. I know this probably makes me look like a stalker or worse but I just, I just wanted to say hi and that I don’t know you, but I like you.”
Darren exhales, acutely aware of the red in his cheeks and how fast his heart is hammering as Chris stares at him with pale blue eyes.
And then slowly, a small smile curves Chris’ mouth. “What took you so long to talk to me?” He asks, voice soft and teasing.
Darren gapes. “I – well – why didn’t you talk to me?” He stammers out.
“Because, you always looked so…constipated around me. I wasn’t sure what was going on with you.”
“Constipated?”
Chris shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’m not,” Darren defends dumbly.
“Good to know,” Chris smirks.
The elevator dings and comes to a stop on the 8th floor. The doors open, but Chris doesn’t get out, just holds down the ‘door open’ button. Darren licks his lips.
“So…” Darren doesn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t prepare for this part.
“So, if I ask you if you want to come over will you say more to me than ‘morning’?”
Darren grins.
***
Chris also has a cat, likes Indian food, and writes books for a living.
And he smiles whenever Darren kisses him.
These are the things Darren is beginning to learn about him.
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