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The first thought that crossed Adam’s mind when he saw Nigel for the first time was dachshunds.
The second was a resounding Oh.
Adam skidded to a halt as he nearly careened into something that stood between him and access to the laundry room. Not something, a man. A man wearing a soft looking light blue shirt with the design of dachshunds marching across it in colours of brown and black.
It was such an odd design that Adam couldn't help but fixate on it, eyes tracing the dogs with their little waggy tails down from the open collar to the hem of the shirt. His hand, the one that wasn't holding the bulging laundry bag, was about to reach out and touch it before a smoke roughened voice pulled him out of his thoughts altogether.
“Do you see something you like, Darling?” The man asked in an amused tone.
Adam blinked, eyes flicking up to take in the good looking face that had stubble across the jaw and light hooded eyes. He was Smiling at Adam, mouth curved up at the corners round a lit cigarette.
Adam experienced a feeling of acute confusion and discomfort that always came with these types of situations. Strangers were the hardest to understand, no prior knowledge of their personality to figure out what they were thinking. He had done something that had made this man amused and Adam had no idea what.
Once again, he was adrift in a sea of social context that made no sense to him. He longed for the solitude of his apartment.
Taking a step away from the man, eyes now trained on his collarbones that peaked out of the v of his opened dachshund shirt. He cleared his throat and gestured to it. “Your shirt, it has dogs on it. Dachshunds, specifically.”
The man glanced down at himself and Adam risked another look at his face. A nice face. Shame about the smoking, though. “So it does. Do you like it?”
Adam edged around the man towards the laundry room. Ah, small talk. Small talk was something his father had always tried to help him improve on when he had been alive. Small talk was what people did to initiate friendliness, to form a new acquaintance. Adam had never been very good at small talk, unless it was about space and electrical engineering.
Adam shrugged, a nervous movement. “Not really. It is a very ugly shirt.”
Adam registered the man’s eyes widening in his peripheral vision, before he threw his head back and laughed, nearly dropping his cigarette in the process. Adam stopped his movement upon hearing the sound. It was loud and throaty and Adam decided he liked it.
“Well, Darling,” he managed after his laughter had died down, his hand coming up to pull the cigarette away from his lips. “I like your honesty.”
Adam frowned. “I'm not darling,” he pointed out, like it should have been obvious. “My name is Adam.”
“I would have to disagree with you on that point, Adam, but it’s nice to have a name to go with the face.” He said, further confusing Adam. “I'm Nigel, I just moved into 3A.”
Nigel held a hand out between them and Adam belatedly realised he was supposed to shake it after a couple moments of awkward staring.
Adam gripped his hand and shook. “I live on the second floor.” He went to pull away but Nigel tightened his grip, causing Adam to look him in the eyes again.
“It’s nice to meet you, Adam.”
Adam nodded before finally drawing his hand away.
“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Nigel mused, watching him with his hooded eyes.
Adam turned to the Laundry room door and drew his key out to unlock it. “No. I find that eyes are distracting.”
Nigel hummed, following Adam into the cramped room where sets of washing machines and tumble dryers crammed together for the residents to use. “I've been stuck outside for five fucking minutes trying to get in here. The super didn't issue me with a fucking key.”
Adam winced at the cursing that came tumbling out of Nigel’s mouth so easily. “They could be making you a new one.” He said awkwardly, keeping his head down and emptying his laundry bag into a washing machine.
“I've been here for a fucking week.” Nigel groused, doing the same. “The least they could do is bloody hurry up.”
Adam was suddenly aware of just how cramped the room was while there was another person in it. Nigel, for how slender he was, seemed to take up more space than Adam would've thought he had any right to. He was broad shouldered and his movements were careless, no thought to the spacial boundary between two strangers. His arm would brush against Adam’s continuously, a hip bumping his when he bent down to look at the controls.
Adam finished loading the machine up and adding the correct amount of washing powder, swiping the machine with his key card and setting it to a full cycle before he ran out of useful things to do. He stood there for a moment, trying to figure out how best to say goodbye when his insecurities won out and he was going to leave the room without saying a word.
“Hey, uh,” Nigel called, gaining Adam’s attention if not his eye contact. He gestured towards Adam’s key card still in his hand. “They didn't give me a key card either. Do you mind leaving me your key card so i can finish up my washing? I’ll drop it back to you when i’m done. Second floor, right?”
“Oh.” Adam glanced down at his card and felt at odds with himself. Despite the assumption that people with asperger’s syndrome were rude and unfeeling towards others, that wasn't the case. It just hadn't crossed his mind that Nigel needed the card.
What were the chances he would get it back?
Some of Adam’s thoughts must have shown on his face as Nigel tilted his head to the side. “I promise to bring it back to you, Darling. Scout’s honour.”
“Adam.” Adam automatically corrected.
Nigel’s smile widened. “Adam,” he repeated softly, almost like he was tasting the name on his tongue. “Besides, you know where I live. I couldn't hide from you even if I wanted to.”
Adam’s cheeks warmed at the low note in the man’s voice and he ducked his head shyly. Nigel was right, he couldn't disappear with it, they lived in the same building after all.
Adam held the key card out to him. “Second floor.” He said, just to make sure he remembered.
“Second floor.” Nigel assured him, reaching out for the card and brushing his fingers along Adam’s for a prolonged moment before pulling away with the card in his possession.
Adam felt the touch like static across his skin. He inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of cigarette smoke, clean sweat and sandalwood. It made him a little dizzy.
Adam nearly tripped over his own feet getting out of the laundry room.
~
Adam’s life was made up of a series of routines. It kept him happy and secure in the world around him. It kept him in control of his environment and safe. Deviations from these routines often led to an imbalance of his equilibrium, the risk of sensory over stimulation and clock watching.
Adam sat in the high backed chair with his fingers drumming an insensible rhythm on his knees, eyes turned to the clock on the mantelpiece.
4:16pm. Twenty two minutes since he returned to his apartment from the laundry room.
The ticking, once a comforting background noise in the room previously, was now a stark reminder of the seconds slipping away.
4:17pm. Twenty three minutes.
Adam was in sudden motion with the nervous energy boiling inside of him. Standing, he marched across the living room and turned the clock around so it faced the wall rather than the room. It made him feel marginally better but didn't loosen the panicked feeling inside his chest.
Distract yourself, he thought. Glancing round the room, his gaze fell on his constellation remote sitting on the dining room table ready to be put to good use.
He went to it, picked it up and flicked the room’s lights off with the curtains drawn across the windows. He turned it on and the room was suddenly lit up with the scene of hundreds of stars and planets, different constellations that could be found in the night sky. Adam felt surrounded by space, wrapped up and comforted like it was a security blanket. He immediately felt better, feeling like himself again.
But it doesn't last long. There was a knock at his door and Adam was once again reminded why he was so anxious.
His fingers tightened on the remote so hard that the plastic creaked ominously. Adam stood stock still, as if not making a sound would result in the disruption going away.
“Adam, darling?” Nigel’s voice filtered through the wood of the door. “I have your key card, as promised.”
Key card.
The thought finally spurred him into action and Adam was across the room and opening the door.
Nigel stood there, mouth parted as if he was about to speak, when he stopped abruptly and stared over Adam’s shoulder. Adam waited, but Nigel didn't utter a word.
“Key card,” Adam prompted him and Nigel handed it over, still with nothing to say.
“Thank you.” Adam said into the silence.
“Fucking hell, you have a space room,” Nigel said and Adam sorely wished he was better at reading facial expressions because he would have loved to know what Nigel was thinking in that moment.
He turned his eyes to his living room, his own face brightening at the mention of his obsession. Space, he could talk about for hours if uninterrupted. Space was a safe topic of conversation. “Yes it is. Do you like space?”
Nigel takes an unconscious step into the room, looking all around him in wonder, watching the shooting star as it flashed by on the ceiling. “I've never really thought about it before.”
Adam doesn't mind that he didn't give permission for the other man to come in, space was important. For space, Adam could forgive many sins.
“Well, you should. Think of i mean.” Adam looks up at the stars on his ceiling. “Because it looks like this people think of it as still. Unmoving. Even though we know it’s expanding, all parts of space is moving away from one and another, most of them faster than the speed of light. Except for-.”
“I have no fucking clue what you just said,” Nigel interrupted, turning to him with raised eyebrows.
“Oh,” Adam said, slightly crestfallen. He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, i tend to get excited over things I like. I, uh, I talk a lot. Too much, sometimes.”
Nigel smiled. “I didn't say it was a bad thing, gorgeous. You can speak about space all you want if it puts that look on your face again.”
Adam reddened, hands instinctively reaching up to touch his cheeks before falling away. “Um, what look?”
Nigel brushed his own fingers across Adam’s cheek. “Like you've woken up to find it’s Christmas morning.”
“I wouldn't know what that looks like,” Adam said softly, like he was confessing a great secret. “I'm not good at reading people’s expressions. Or people, really.” He admitted.
“No? Do you prefer it when people say what they feel? What they mean?” Those fingers continue to stroke across Adam’s cheek, along his jaw to rest below his chin. Nigel tilted Adam’s face up so Adam had no choice but to meet his eyes.
Adam swallowed. “It makes everything easier,” he said. “For people to say what they mean.”
“In that case, I think you should tell me more about space.” He smiled, drawing closer so that there were standing with hardly any distance between them. “Perhaps over dinner?”
“I-” Adam started but stopped. He wasn't used to people wanting to hear more, to spend time with Adam. Harlan, his father’s ex army friend and now Adam’s through extension, was the exception.
“And in case that wasn't clear enough, I mean the dinner to be a date.” Nigel reiterated. “If you would like to, that is.”
Did he want to? Adam barely knew Nigel, didn't knew he existed before today. He had a gruff way about him, had the propensity to use curses like they were adjectives and had strange taste in clothes. And yet.
And yet.
Adam was attracted to Nigel, could feel his body respond to the seemingly innocent touches like he was touch starved. Nigel didn't seem to be overly weirded out by Adam and his ‘eccentricities’ like others were when they first meet him. That counted for more than Adam could articulate.
“I would like that.” Adam finally said.
Nigel’s smile was swift. “I'm happy to hear that, darling. Very happy.”
Adam opened his mouth to correct Nigel on his name yet again but then thought better of it. Something told him that Nigel was overly fond of pet names and he would be fighting a losing battle.
“Are you going to let me wear this shirt?” Nigel asked, patting his dachshunds shirt for emphasis. “I'm finding that I quite like it. Perhaps it's my lucky shirt.”
“Lucky shirt?” Adam asked, looking at it with a suspicious eye. “What is so lucky about it?”
Nigel leant forward and his lips brushed Adam’s forehead chastely before pulling back. “It got me a date with you, didn't it?”
Adam wouldn't argue with that. Besides, he quite liked dachshunds anyway