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The doorman sighed heavily, looking at the clock. It was around 6:40 PM, and the last person that had to arrive was Angus. The list was shorter than other days and very little doppelgangers had shown up. They stretched out their arms, looking around their janky booth. The D.D.D. promised to put implement an air conditioner in their booth by the time summer rolled around depending on if they were much more efficient than Henry. With how things were going, they were hoping for that to come sooner. Even though their job involved sitting down a majority of the time, they had managed to built up a good sweat. A shower was definitely needed before going to sleep.
"Evening, doorman," chimed Angus' charismatic voice. The doorman smiled as Angus tipped his hat and headed to the booth. "Hey Agnus. Busy day, huh?"
He nodded, sliding his papers through the hatch. The doorman efficiently began checking the information, missing how Angus was eyeing at them. Once they were confident it was the real him for sure, they looked back at him. Just as they were ready to wish him goodnight, their eyebrows furrowed. They murmured, "What's that look for?"
Angus hesitantly chuckled, not meeting their gaze. He said slowly, "You've been sitting there all day?"
The doorman blinked. What's his damage? "Yeah? And?"
"Your shirt.. ah ha."
They realized, eyes darting down at themselves for a second. Their clean white shirt from this morning was now completely transparent. Vaguely, they - and probably Angus, honestly - could make out outline of their arms and tank top. Spring hadn't been kind to the town, let alone to a crappy booth with shoddy ventilation compared to the rest of the complex. They remained silent, only murmuring a small "oh".
"They outta put an a/c in your booth, you look like you've been out in the desert," Angus remarked, occasionally stealing glimpses. The doorman nodded, pressing the button for Angus to enter the complex. "Have a good night," they said.
This time, they didn't miss how Angus' eyes lingered on their biceps, took his papers, and sauntered away.
_____________________
It had to be around 8 in the complex by now. The doorman left their apartment and strolled to the stairwell, carrying a basket of clothes. They had finished taking a shower, refreshed more than ever. All they needed was laundry, a small dinner, and off to sleep into their day-off. Thankfully, the journey to the communal laundry room wasn't laborious. Upon entering the room, they saw Francis, Anastacha, and Izaack. Izaack was chatting up a storm with an indifferent Francis listening (a miracle, though granted Francis seemed to be a little more awake tonight) as Anastacha confined herself to reading a book. It felt odd seeing both of the men not in their uniforms, or with Izaack's hair slightly down. Bright blue eyes of the reporter met the doorman's and turned to them with a bright grin.
"Ah, mister doorman!" Izaack beamed, making them give a polite smile. The neighbors didn't actually exactly know how the doorman identified themselves, who never provided a clear answer. And they were okay with that! Though, it made calling them by anything else a little difficult. The doorman never saying they had a problem with being called "mister" or "missus", so that led to some of the residents, like Izaack, to use them interchangeably. "So swell of you to join us!"
The doorman hummed pleasantly, getting a washing machine ready. "Where's Nacha, Francis?"
"She's with the twins and Miss Stone," Francis mumbled in his soft-spoken voice, "so she asked if I could do her's and Anastacha's laundry."
"Mhm," Anastacha off-handedly confirmed, flipping through a page.
"The women often have their own hangouts," Izaack sighed, leaning back. "The men outta hang out again soon."
Francis shuddered. The doorman snorted, shutting the lid and powering the machine, "You and Angus are a dangerous pair. Heard about the last time that happened from Margarette, Roman and Arnold should supervise you two while Afton and poor Francis sit somewhere else."
Izaack laughed, and as it died down, his eyes focused on them. The reporter was about to say something else and then paused, which confused Francis and the doorman. Silence filled the room, save for the tumbling of clothes. However, Francis somehow managed to catch on what he was looking at (the doorman could swear his eyes widened a bit). The teenager, sitting on an unused washing machine, darted her eyes up briefly. Even she knew it was rare for Izaack to stop mid-chatter, but she didn't seem to understand so she shrugged and went back to ignoring them. Izaack's eyes studied the doorman closely. They shifted nervously. Seriously, what was up with these people tonight? They were just wearing a tank top and pajama pants. Oh. Oh wait. But, surely not, right?
"Anything.. wrong..?"
"I never knew you were so.. muscular."
Nevermind.
"Oh? Uh, yeah. D.D.D training does that," the doorman said sheepishly, bringing up an arm to scratch the back of their head. Their muscles stretched, and became more pronounced. This only served to make the men's ogling a little bit worse, if anything, it just made it even more obvious. Anastacha looked up, and then back to the page she was on. Anastacha, maybe the doorman could understand with hormones and whatnot, but this type of response from Izaack, Angus, and damn Francis of all people was something they did not expect at all.
"Is it rigorous, the training?" Izaack asked, eyes of blue finally making direct contact with them. "I'd say so. Don't want to risk the chance of a doppel overpowering you if worse comes to worse," they answered, mind racing to come up with whatever excuse to step out of the room. "I, uh, I want to get coffee. Or just something to drink. How about you all?"
Izaack and Francis shook their heads slowly. Francis turned his head back to his daughter expectantly, who shrugged and mumbled a "Whatever". It was enough for the doorman, though, walking out of the laundry room to go to the lounge. They needed two cups of coffee and a migraine in the morning to comprehend this.
"I see what Angus meant," Izaack said finally, breaking through the silence once the doorman was out of earshot. "Did you see their shirt hike up when they stretched?"
"Eugh!" Anastacha gagged, finally ready to express her mind. "That's the doorman, you can't ogle them like that. Right, dad?"
She awaited for her father's answer, who looked bashful as he began to blush with embarrassment. She looked incredulous and groaned.
"Whatever."
"You know, Anastacha," Izaack started. "I'm not saying that at your age, you're feeling a lot of emotions with hormones and what not-"
"WHATEVER!"
_____________________
It was coincidentally a day-off for the doorman and a day for the complex to get together in the lounge. Rafttellyn and Lois were cooking up breakfast in the kitchen with Nacha, everyone else scattered about and conversing. Most people seemed to be gossiping amongst each other at the largest coffee table, except for a few. Mclooy was sitting in a sole cushion chair napping, Francis sat farther from the table to help Anastacha with her homework, and the Schmichts, Alf, the Peachman brothers, and Roman were playing cards. Elonois saw the doorman enter, and waved them to the large table. It was surrounded by chairs and sofas. God was merciful, the most empty sofa only being partially taken up by Steven.
They said their hellos to everyone and sat down, being invited to hearing the most recent stories Margarette had caught today. Life must never be dull for her, unlike with some of the other people here, doorman included. The doorman isn't sure how she manages to catch every detail in town, but maybe it was because everyone went to her and the shop she worked at as they aired all their problems to the employees. Not like they minded, though, it made time pass by.
"Soooo," Elonois' voice rang from across the table, and the doorman knew they had to be prepared for what was about to enfold. "Doorman, heard you got a little secret."
Selenne smacked her sister's arm, "Can it, don't word it like that, El!" The doorman chuckled nervously, "It's fine. You heard that I have muscle, right?"
"Muscle?" Steven repeated, readjusting his sunglasses. "Never took you for the type to exercise."
"I did sports in my youth," and by that, the doorman meant getting in fights to defend their mama. And other things. But they didn't need to know that. "But D.D.D needs people capable enough to handle a fight."
They rolled up their sleeves, revealing the bulk that stayed hidden. They usually wore clothes that weren't form fitting when off the clock. Even then, though, the neighbors would see them in a very inactive posture. Faded scars were also apparent as most of the group stared with wide eyes (some of them being far longer than necessary as the doorman suddenly realized Izaack and Francis got a good look at their scars), when more cocky doppelgangers tried to break in after their shift ended and the doorman resorted to fighting back. Staying strapped was a great rule to follow.
"Oh wow," Selenne uttered in amazement. The doorman's face warmed a bit, pulling their sleeve down.
"What's the scars all about?" Angus questioned, who looked a little pleased that he got to have a clear view this time.
"Scuffles with doppelgangers," perhaps they said that a little too nonchalantly, seeing as how most of them began to express their concern. "It's alright in the end! Like I said, got to handle a fight."
Nacha had seen the aftermath of the latest scuffle a couple weeks ago after the D.D.D came to cleanup, which was a little more serious and they had promised to bring medics just in case. Probably doppelgangers amping up their strength. She was extremely frightened, and her breath had hitched when she saw a cut on their side. Her hands had ran through the rest of their body, and the doorman could see her face turn red when her nimble fingers brushed over their abs before promptly taking them to Afton, the closest they had to a doctor. It healed up quite nicely and Nacha moved on, but she'd flush every now and then when making eye contact with them. Though the doorman attributed it to a concern for their modesty, which was a nice thought.
"Oh, and well, more than fight."
The table fixed on them.
"What?" Mia said.
"Normal doppelgangers throw a tantrum at me, or try to persuade me to let them in. Crazy doppelgangers try flirting with me to get in," they responded flatly.
"Oh, now that's new!" No one ever thought that would come out of Margarette's mouth.
"Flirting?" Afton visibly cringed in his seat. "That can't be."
"They've tried. Or, in what is supposed to be a fight, they just.. try persuading me with other favors," they explained with exasperation. "I tried to fight off a doppel of Francis but it groped my chest instead."
Maybe they could've saved that an Alcatraz interrogation, but oh well. At least Francis or god-forbid Anastacha didn't overhear that (An might just break and go feral after all the times of her trying to defend her father from lonely women).
"Got a raise for it, though, since they definitely did not expect sexual harassment complaints because of doppels," the doorman couldn't help but laugh at that, despite everyone becoming slack-jawed.
"Breakfast is ready!" Rafttellyn called from the kitchen before anyone at the table could speak any more. "Everyone fetch plates while the food's still hot!"
The table hesitantly began to swarm into the kitchen, as well as everyone else, leaving the doorman as one of the last ones. They shook their head, almost amused. They had to hold in a cackle when they heard Elonois whisper to her sister, "They're bigger than mine."
_____________________
"Can the security system be implemented any faster," it was more of an urged demand than a question when the D.D.D. came for a cleanup for yet another doppelganger breaking into the complex. The head worker stammered, promising it'll be done by the morning. The doorman grumbled, walking away and leaving them in the lobby as they wiped blood off their cheek. The medic approved of their health and confirmed no concerning injuries. That was a relief, and that blood magically washed away without a stain on their uniform. Blood had only gotten on their shirt this time, but this time bled through their tank top, which wasn't salvageable. Damn shame, but at least they have a lot more to spare. They stripped off their shirts and slammed it into the washing machine anyway. Once they had set the washing machine to a cycle, they sluggishly went to their apartment for a shower. They took their sweet time with it, so that by the time they returned clean, the clothes were finished. Their dress shirt was fine, and the tank top has definitely seen better days. The tank top didn't look too stained, but they knew they weren't going to wear it anytime soon. They could repurpose it into something else if they have time.
Feeling too tired and lazy to walk back up the stairs, they opted for the elevator this time. It wasn't in the best shape, but it hasn't failed yet. As they awaited for the third floor, it stopped at the second floor. Francis walked in, appearing exhausted as always.
"Evening Francis."
"Mhm, evening."
"Dropped off An?"
"Mhm."
Some felt disappointed that they rarely wrung out more than a couple words out of him, but the doorman was comfortable with that. Francis was socially anxious, but they felt that they got along with Francis just fine. They looked down and saw a colorful bracelet he was fidgeting with on his wrist that An definitely had to have made, and they couldn't help but smile. Although Francis and Nacha were divorced, Francis didn't stop supporting Nacha or Anastacha. Francis looked at them, noticing their face. He tilted his head, silently asking why.
"Nothing. Just hoping to see An wear a bracelet tomorrow," they chortled. Francis looked down at it, a microscopic smile ever so slightly creeping onto his face. "Mhm."
From the corner of their eye, the doorman studied the milkman's arms. He, too, seemed to be toned. Stacks of milk crates weren't that light, it was extremely funny seeing Angus try to lift them while Francis carried them and then some without breaking a sweat. Their eyes wandered elsewhere, not wanting Francis to catch on and feel uncomfortable. Francis was too tired to even notice, poor man. One of these days, they'll lay Francis down and coddle him so he could have a good night's rest. The elevator doors opened, and their arms brushed against each other for a moment as they walked down the hall.
"G'night," Francis mumbled softly before turning in for the night.
"Night, Francis, sleep good."
"Mhm."
After closing and locking the door, the doorman sighed tiredly. They folded their shirts and laid it somewhere on the couch before getting comfortable in bed. What a week.
Francis closed and locked the door, running a hand through his tussled hair. He put on his nightwear and carefully put Anastacha's bracelet for him on his beside table. Once he got into bed, he stared at the ceiling. His face became a dark red as the events of latest events this week blitzed through his head. He covered his face in his hands, groaning.
Ugh, why did that doppelganger even do that..