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Room available in 2nd floor, 2 bedroom, 1 bath walk up apartment. Room is minimally furnished with bed and dresser. I am a 31 year old male in the restaurant industry, and often work the closing shift, so if you’re a morning person, please be able to keep the apartment quiet until at least 10am. You should also be ok with nerdy movie/ game nights at the apartment a couple times a month. Must be 420 friendly. Ableists and homophobes need not apply.
$800/ month, all utilities (including internet, hulu and netflix) included.
Steve read over the listing several times, wondering if the place (which sounded pretty perfect) had some kind of massive catch. It was Craigslist. There had to be a catch. He groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position on Sam’s couch, frowning at how tense his back was feeling after sleeping on it for the past 2 weeks. He needed to find a place with a real bed soon, and while Sam hadn’t said anything, Steve knew he was ready for him to get off his damn couch already.
He pulled up his e-mail app and replied to the anonymous relay address at the top of the ad.
Hi, My name is Steve and I’m replying to your ad on Craigslist for a roommate. I’m 30, and recently moved to Brooklyn for a job as a graphic artist. I make my own schedule for the most part, and have the option of working from home on some projects, and usually end up working late at night also. Something about the clock striking midnight seems to get the creative energy flowing in me. And what kind of person chooses to do anything productive before noon anyway? Crazy people. That’s what kind. Also, definitely not ableist or homophobic, cause that would make me a huge hypocrite on both points. And 420 is the only way I can get out of bed some days.
I’m currently crashing on a friends couch, I’m pretty sure in the same neighborhood as you, so If you’re interested I could meet with you and see the place anytime.
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Bucky was awake, technically, when his phone chirped with a new e-mail. ‘Please don’t be work’, he thought to himself as he reached for his phone, because it was his day off, dammit, and he had plans to sleep all day. He blinked a few times, as he sat up, wondering who the fuck was trying to talk to him so damn early.
Or maybe not so early, he thought, noticing that it was almost 1pm. He saw the subject of the message, ‘roommate available’ and groaned slightly. “Please don’t be weird” he mumbled to himself as he opened the e-mail. He read it 3 times, wondering what the catch with this guy was. Graphic artist, so probably into comics or gaming, so something in common. And yes, you would have to be crazy to want to do anything before noon. But what was up with that cryptic line about not being a hypocrite? Was he gay and disabled also? What was his disability? Did he smoke for pain management? It didn’t matter, really, he realized and decided he might as well meet this guy, because he probably wasn’t going to get any replies that sounded any better.
Bucky replied to the e-mail, saying he was free that afternoon if it wasn’t too short notice and gave him the address saying to come by anytime after 4 ish. He figured 3 hours should be enough time to drink coffee, and shower, and drink coffee, and make sure the place was presentable enough. He didn’t feel the need to get the place abnormally clean, but he could at least take out the garbage. It was starting to smell a little.
He was almost finished his first cup of coffee, and therefore was almost awake when his phone chirped with a reply from Steve. He had to go into the office for a design meeting that afternoon, but could come by when it was done around 6.
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Steve was fidgeting slightly, no longer able to find a remotely comfortable position in the hard backed chair at the conference table. The client and art director (his boss) had been discussing the marketing plan and color pallet for a new project for what felt like hours, while ignoring his (the artist) suggestions that maybe they should figure out what they are even trying to sell first. All he knew was it had something to do with a superhero that had been created as the mascot or something for some hipster beer company, and they wanted a comic book or something. It sounded stupid as fuck, but the money was good. It seemed like the hardest part would be trying to follow the red, green and gold color palette they had apparently decided on without making it look like Christmas.
Finally, at 6:30, they were done talking about who knows what, mostly parts of the project that didn’t involve him, and Steve was surprised to see that the client had a thick folder of rough sketches, and notes and outlines of plotline ideas. He just put it in his bag to look at later, and left as quickly as he could without being too rude. He sent a quick email to Bucky, letting him know he was still coming, and would be there in 20 min.
He double checked the address against google maps before getting on his bike and started riding. He realized he was nervous as he got closer, tapping his fingers against the handlebars as he cruised down the empty bike lane. Was he really about to go meet some stranger from craigslist to discuss living together? Could that actually work? Was he crazy for doing this? He had had enough friends in Chicago who had successfully found roommates this way, but he was pretty sure this was also how people got murdered, somewhere. It’s probably a thing that has happened. He found the place easily enough, and thank the hipsters, there was a bike rack outside the building. He found the buzzer for apartment 2A, and heard a voice through the staticy speaker a few seconds later.
“What’s your name?” the voice asked.
“Steve” He replied, a little confused.
“Come on up” said the voice, and the door buzzed open.
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Bucky had spent most of the day watching Mel Brooks movies, and was quoting along with Dark Helmet about combing the desert when he heard the buzzer. He jumped off the couch with a burst of anxious energy, suddenly feeling nervous about this. Was he really about to chat with a stranger off craigslist about living together? Could that even work?
Normally he would just look out the window to make sure it was one of his friends before buzzing anyone in, but he didn’t know what Steve looked like, so he asked his name instead. If it was some random trying to get in the building, they hopefully wouldn’t say Steve.
He heard a knock less than a minute later, to find a skinny blond guy wearing tight jeans rolled up to just below his knees and a dark blue zip up hoodie over a button up shirt. He had a large orange messenger bag slung across his back, and Bucky’s first thought was that this guy looked like a fucking hipster. Great.
“Hi” Steve said, sounding nervous, “You’re Bucky?”
“That’s me” Bucky replied, stepping back and opening the door further. “Come on in.”
Steve followed Bucky into the living room, and immediately spotted the large rainbow flag on the wall. Bucky noticed, and was relieved to see the small smile and nod, as Steve seemed to relax slightly.
They made awkward small talk, talking about why Steve had moved from Chicago to Brooklyn, and how desperately Steve needs to get off of his friends couch, and how the room was available because Bucky’s old roommate, Clint, had moved in with his boyfriend Phil. After a quick tour of the apartment, Bucky told Steve that the room was his if he wanted it, and could move in anytime. Steve accepted almost immediately.
“Is tomorrow too soon?” Steve asked, slightly hesitant again. “Cause Sam’s couch…”
Bucky interrupted with a laugh. “That’s fine man. Couches make terrible beds.” He assured him. “I’m supposed to be working 2-10 tomorrow, so if I’m lucky I’ll be out by midnight. I’ll give you the key now so you can move in while I’m at work.”
“Sounds great.” Steve told him, “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, or maybe the morning after, ‘cause real bed.”