What is Life without a Dead Meme?

You press the button for the elevator, deciding to follow Caleb and see exactly what is taking him so long each trip down and up. You wince as the rickety pulley system drags the elevator up to the third floor, but you repeat your positive affirmations to convince yourself this is a budget-friendly option, not a dump. 

Caleb turns, hands on hips as he tries to turn his Brother-slash-Parental-Figure-turned-Colonel Mode™️ on you with an intense look of disapproval. “Pipsqueak. I was there to train my mind. And get swole at the same time–”

“Oh my god, Caleb,” you interrupt, groaning.   “I’ve told you not to use the word ‘swole’ like that; it makes you sound like such a millennial–”

You’re cut off mid-sentence by the elevators opening to reveal a tall blond with eyes bluer than the sky. (read again: tall, fair, and handsome, meow!) He steps out and looks Caleb up and down with even more judgment than you’d had earlier in the kitchen. Even you’re unsure if you should be impressed or offended on Caleb’s behalf. 

His voice is smooth yet raspy with sleep as he addresses Caleb. “Are you here about the noise, Officer?”

And you fucking knew it. He’s here to complain. You press yourself closer to the wall, trying to squeeze yourself behind a potted plant.

But Caleb in all his Golden Boy Glory™️ just can’t seem to let a civilian down; he immediately rises to the occasion, chest puffing out as he responds, suddenly overcome with the spirit of Captain America. “I am not, no, but I can certainly help. What seems to be the issue, young sir?”

The stranger blinks. Once. Then twice. “The apartment above mine’s been dropping things non-stop for hours.” His voice is attractive even when deadpan, even when irritation tinges it. You focus on the smooth cadence of his words, the regal slope of his nose, to distract from the awful guilty feeling sinking in your stomach. “It’s nearly midnight and I have work tomorrow. I filed a noise complaint but management said they’d handle it tomorrow during working hours.”

Holy shit, you were right. And holy shit, Caleb is a dumbass because he continues the conversation with a deep frown instead of putting two and two together. “On a weeknight? That’s nearly criminal. Perchance I can be of assistance?” He turns to you. You frantically signal with your eyes for him to abort mission, hoping ESP will pull through. It doesn’t. “Pips, you don’t mind if we take a slight detour, right? We must do what’s right by the people!” And to make matters worse, he nods with as much self-satisfaction as a puppy that broke into its feeder.

You close your eyes and pray for patience. Or to be killed on the spot. Either works. You open your eyes and find yourself still in the hallway. “Yeah, that’s fine.” It’s not fine.

The stranger doesn’t seem weirded out by Caleb at all, oddly enough. If anything, he seems to be on the same freaky wavelength. “Excellent. I, too, believe in contributing to the greater good.”

(And now they’re talking the same, you note. Maybe if you slip away, they won’t notice since they seem so wrapped up in each other. You feel like a third wheel, for some reason.)

(Caleb–the weirdo–does notice your escape attempt. He drags you to follow like a scruffed kitten. You try to put up as much resistance as possible, but he utilizes his “swole” basic training results and wins.)

The stranger leads you and Caleb down the hall until you get to your still-open door. (A hazard and potential robbery in the making, but with the way Caleb’s been dragging his feet for the past two hours, there’s only six boxes of kitchenware in the apartment. Not much of a haul and more of a favor if anyone were to take it.) 

“This is the apartment.” The stranger explains point-blank. You want to crawl under your not-yet-hauled-upstairs bed covers and die. “I guess… they must be moving in?” The stranger frowns, peering into your apartment. “...But I thought that was reserved for the weekends. When people are off work. And when people are awake.” 

Caleb–sweet, summer-child Caleb–is so dumb at times. Like this one. “Oh! Pips, isn’t this your apartment?” He turns to you, either basking in your pain or thoroughly oblivious. “Or do you have a roommate you have yet to introduce to me~?” He leans in, eyes steely. “Is there a boyfriend hiding in your bathroom dropping things around? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

You take a step back, eyes wide. “What? Why would I do that? You know–”

“I know that you dated a guy in third year of middle school for a week and didn’t tell me!”

“Because I was 13! And all we did was hold hands and hug and–” Caleb leans in so close you nearly trip trying to put distance between the two of you. “You held hands?! And hugged?!!”

“Yeah? What’s the big–”

“Excuse me.”

You and Caleb freeze, heads turning mechanically to the handsome stranger. 

“This is your apartment.” He states rather than asks, voice flat. “And you’re the ones who have been crashing around like elephants all night.”

You immediately go into damage control mode. “I’m so sorry about this, but Caleb couldn’t help until, like, literally tonight and I start working tomorrow and–” “Where do you work?”

It’s your turn to blink at the sudden shift in conversation. Once. Then twice. “... the Hunters Association…? It’s a few metro stops away…”

“I work there, too.”

Holy fucking shit. Just watch as this guy is your boss or something. You stare, horrified, as you repeat, “You… work there. At the Hunters Association. Where I am supposed to start tomorrow…”

It’s as if your new neighbor is an angel that’s been sent to ruin your life. His eyes laser focus on you as they take on a new, maniacal gleam. “Tomorrow? Then you must be (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). I’m Xavier, one of your group mates.”

You want to die. You don’t even need your bed covers from the U-Haul anymore. You could just shrivel up on the spot and end it all right here, right now. 

“And I’m Caleb!”

Ah yes, how could you forget about your original nuisance. Caleb steps between you and Xavier, hellbent on hazing this new character in your life. He sticks a hand out, smile tight and posture ramrod straight to utilize every centimeter. “Pleasure to meet you, Xavier. Did you know I’m her boyfriend–”

“You’re not my boyfriend, Caleb, oh my–” “You’re not her boyfriend.” You freeze at the soft yet firm declaration from Xavier. You face him properly, taking in the way he doesn’t back down from Caleb’s passive aggressive smiling or tense posture. For someone clad in blue striped Ebenezer Scrooge pajamas, he holds his own against Caleb’s full military regalia, looking equally intimidating. “She said so earlier.”

Xavier addresses you now and you instinctively straighten up. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Please keep the noise to a minimum. I live below you and it’s too late to take melatonin now. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be happy to help.” His blue eyes scan over you one last time before he turns and heads to the stairs, disappearing from sight.

You stare at the space he just occupied for a moment before sighing dreamily. “He’s so handsome…” 

“Pips, he’s a fucking freak!”

notes: Caleb does not die here or get turned into Megatron. Obviously. In this AU, his “disappearance” is just him at basic training for the Air Force.

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