𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂 ❀⋆.ೃ࿔

john munch x fem!reader

summary: you’re munch’s new unusually cheery neighbour.

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The one morning John Munch had managed to keep completely free was supposed to be quiet.

That was the plan, anyway.

He had it all mapped out with the kind of precision he usually reserved for investigations. Sleep in, find the strongest coffee Baltimore had to offer, check in on the bar, maybe even read the paper without someone interrupting him every five minutes. Then, eventually, drag himself into the precinct for the afternoon shift.

A rare, peaceful morning where nobody needed him, nobody was asking questions, and no murders before noon.

The world, naturally, had other ideas. Something heavy scraped across the hallway outside his apartment. A dull thud followed, then another, along with a muffled voice and the unmistakable sound of furniture being wrestled through a doorway that was clearly too small for it.

Munch's eyes snapped open, his alarm clock informing him- rather smugly- that it was exactly the time he'd normally be hauling himself out of bed for work.

With a reluctant groan, he pushed himself out of bed, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. His hair was slightly dishevelled, his silk dressing gown wrapped around him, and his patience had disappeared somewhere around the second box hitting the floor.

He yanked open his apartment door. "Hey!" he called into the hallway, his voice carrying through the quiet building. "Some of us are trying to sleep here."

To his surprise, there was no one there. Just the sound of more grunting and shifting, causing his expression to tighten. Apparently, whoever was making the noise had decided that basic neighborly courtesy was optional. Wonderful. Exactly what he needed. A new neighbor with no concept of time, volume, or the fact that some people occasionally enjoyed having a morning where nobody needed anything from them.

Following the sounds toward the staircase, Munch prepared himself to have a word with whoever was responsible. He was already composing the complaint in his head when he rounded the corner and stopped.

The cause of the disturbance was not what he expected. A young woman was halfway up the stairs, struggling with a mattress that appeared to be winning the argument. She had one hand gripping the side while the other pushed upward, her entire body leaning into the effort as she attempted to maneuver the oversized thing through the narrow space.

Munch looked from the mattress, to the woman, and then back again before clearing his throat.

The woman looked up at the sound of his throat clearing, her expression shifting from concentration to surprise. Munch expected the usual reaction- the awkward apology, the embarrassed explanation, maybe even the quick promise that the noise would stop.

Instead, her entire face brightened. A smile spread across her lips like she hadn't just been caught committing a one-woman battle against a mattress. "Good morning," she said cheerfully.

Munch stared at her. Good morning. That was what she had decided to go with. Not sorry for waking up the entire building. Not I'll try to be quieter. Just good morning, delivered with the kind of friendliness usually reserved for old friends and people who weren’t currently standing in silk dressing gowns looking like they had just rolled out of bed.

"Good morning?" Munch repeated, his eyebrows lifting. "No, no. I don't think we're going to call this a good morning."

The woman blinked, still holding onto the mattress.

Munch gestured vaguely toward the hallway, the staircase, the entire building that had been so rudely introduced to her moving process before a reasonable hour. "Have you considered that other people in this building might also require sleep? That some of us actually enjoy the luxury of a few uninterrupted hours before the day begins?"

Her smile returned, only brighter this time. “I’m sorry,” she said, although she didn’t particularly sorry. “I didn’t realise I was disturbing anyone.”

Munch glanced at the mattress wedged between them. "Really?"

The woman’s eyes flicked down before returning to his face. "Okay," she admitted. "The mattress may have been louder than I anticipated.”

Somehow, she managed to look completely sincere. He let out a sigh. “Most people hire movers.”

"Most people probably have more patience than I do," she replied easily.

Munch paused at that. “At least you’re aware.” he said finally.

She laughed softly, adjusting her grip on the mattress. "I try to be."

And that, more than anything, was irritating. Because she wasn't embarrassed. She wasn't offended. She wasn't even particularly bothered. She was just standing there, halfway up the stairs, smiling at him like he was the one who had interrupted her morning.

"Right." The woman sighed, adjusting her grip on the mattress as though the conversation had been settled and they could now move on to the far more important business of actually getting the thing upstairs. “Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to help?”

Munch stared at her. For a moment, he genuinely wondered if he had misheard her. "You woke me up," he pointed out.

She nodded. "I know."

"And now you're asking me to help you?"

"Yes."

Munch looked at the mattress, then at her, then back at the mattress again. There was something almost impressive about the confidence with which she made the request. With a quiet sigh, he stepped forward and reached for the mattress.

The woman immediately smiled again. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he muttered. "I haven't forgiven you."

“Fair enough.” she replied.

"And for the record, this does not mean we're friends." he added.

"Okay." she said simply.

Munch looked at her. She was clearly amused. She was also clearly letting him have the last word while not believing a single thing he said. That was irritating too.

He adjusted his grip on the mattress and started up the stairs. "You're very agreeable for someone who caused this problem."

She followed beside him, smiling. "And you're very helpful for someone who doesn't want to be."

Munch didn't respond, mostly because he couldn't think of a response that would somehow prove her point. So instead, he focused on the task at hand and helped her carry the mattress the rest of the way up the stairs. It was heavier than it looked, which was exactly the sort of thing he had expected.

The woman, however, seemed completely unfazed by the struggle. She moved alongside him with surprising determination, offering the occasional quiet apology whenever they bumped the walls or had to awkwardly angle the mattress around a corner. Munch found himself noticing that she didn't complain once. Not about the weight, not about the stairs, not about the fact that she had clearly made this entire process far more difficult than necessary.

That, annoyingly, was almost impressive.

When they finally reached the top floor, they stopped in front of an open apartment door. Munch shifted his grip and helped guide the mattress inside, already prepared to retreat back to the quiet comfort of his own apartment and reclaim what remained of his morning.

Then, he noticed the number on the door and his expression changed slightly. He knew that door. Of course. The universe had a sense of humor, and apparently today it was choosing to use him as the punchline.

The woman seemed to notice where his attention had gone. Following his gaze, she looked toward his apartment door just a few feet away, then back at him.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh." She looked between the two apartments again, a smile slowly forming. "I guess we're neighbors..."

There was something about the way she said it that made it sound less like a statement and more like she found the entire situation amusing.

Munch, unfortunately, did not. "Apparently."

The woman glanced around the hallway, then back at him. "Well, that's convenient."

"Is it?"

She tilted her head. "I mean, you already know where I live."

That was technically true. It was also not the way he would have phrased it. "I was hoping for a little more mystery from my neighbors." he muttered.

She laughed softly. "Sorry. I'll try to be more mysterious next time."

"Please don't move any more furniture to achieve that."

Her smile widened. Munch immediately regretted that he had said something that could be interpreted as a joke. Because now she looked delighted.

He gave the apartment one last glance before deciding he had spent enough of his morning participating in someone else's moving day. He had been awake for less than an hour and somehow had already carried furniture, met a stranger, and gotten involved in a situation he had never agreed to be part of. It was impressive, really, how quickly his plans had fallen apart.

Unfortunately, he still had work.

"Well," he said, stepping back toward the hallway, "I should probably get ready."

The woman looked up from where she stood inside the apartment, one hand resting against the mattress they'd just managed to drag through the doorway. "Right," she said, smiling softly. "I should probably let you get back to your day."

Munch nodded, slightly surprised by the lack of argument. He turned toward his own apartment, ready to return to the quiet he had been robbed of, when her voice stopped him.

"Wait."

He looked back to see her standing in her doorway, hair escaping from the clip holding her hair back, a faint smile on her face. "I never got your name."

“John Munch.” he replied simply.

He expected that to be enough. Apparently, it wasn't. The woman smiled as she repeated it, almost like she was making sure she remembered it correctly. "John Munch.” she paused. “I’m Y/N.”

"Y/N," Munch repeated, giving a small nod.

"Nice to officially meet you, John."

He glanced briefly toward his apartment door before looking back at her. "Under unusual circumstances."

Y/N looked around at the mattress, then back at him. "I've had stranger introductions."

Munch raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what could possibly qualify as stranger than this. "I'll take your word for it."

Her smile returned, and there was something about it that suggested she found his reaction amusing.

"Anyway," he said, gesturing vaguely toward his apartment, "I have coffee to make."

"A very important task." she grinned.

"Extremely." he mumbled.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt that."

"Trust me," he said, "you already did."

He expected her to take offense. Instead, she laughed. Munch paused for a second, caught off guard by it. Then he shook his head and stepped back toward his door. "Enjoy your new apartment."

"Thank you again for helping me."

He lifted a hand dismissively. "Don't make it sound like I volunteered."

Y/N smiled. "But you did help."

Munch looked at her. She had that same expression again- the one that suggested she was quietly amused by him. He didn't like that she seemed to understand things he hadn't said.

"Goodbye, Y/N."