The day is bright yet quiet. The sun is shining on Chris's skin, caressing him with its warmth. The early spring chill is now a distant memory, leaving only a pleasant feeling in its wake. He meanders down to the mailbox, enjoying his day off. He had a doctor's appointment in the morning and decided to use his PTO for the entire day, rather than just a few hours. The house is as quiet and peaceful as the rest of the neighborhood, and he figures that it's as good a time as any to grab the mail.
He sticks his hand in and riffles through, grabbing a fistful of letters and pulling them out. Something awkwardly clunks against the back of the mailbox, and he stills, uncertain of what he just heard.
He bends over and peers in, noting a grey bag squished into the very back of the mailbox, as if the mailman haphazardly threw it in at the last minute, along with the rest of the lot. Chris shakes his head and stifles a sigh as he reaches in and pulls out the package. It's lumpy and awkward, practically torn already; transit must have been a bumpy ride.
Chris doesn't recall ordering anything, so he turns it over in his hands and checks the label. He grimaces as he reads the label, noticing the wrong address attached.
The correct recipient, of course, is Sam--just his luck.
Chris sighs deeply as he closes the mailbox and treks over to Avery and Sam's house. He figures that he ought to just get his neighborly duties over with, though he doesn't particularly want to converse with Sam on his day off, he doesn't want to put it off and forget about the package entirely either.
Chris knocks on the door and bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. He prays that nobody is home, so he can simply drop the package and be on his way, but fate tends to have other plans for Chris, and today is no exception.
The door opens slowly to reveal a half-naked Avery. She's in a cute peach robe that barely covers her thighs. Her hair is dripping wet, halfway put up in a towel, but it looks like she couldn't quite commit.
"I-I'm so sorry." Chris stammers, averting his eyes out of respect. They're far past these types of pretenses, but he finds himself freezing at the most inopportune moments.
Avery rolls her eyes, finding Chris's hesitancy endearing rather than annoying, which is rather polite of her. She grabs Chris's arm and yanks him into the house. "Oh, please, would you get in here?"
Chris stumbles into the threshold, and Avery shuts the door quietly, locking it behind them. A thick silence permeates the space between them, and Chris suddenly comes to his senses all at once.
The package, right, he has to give her the package.
He fumbles with the mail and shoves it towards her. She peers down at it curiously, noting the label on the front.
"Did you pick it off the front stoop?" She asks as she reaches out and takes it, eyeing it as suspiciously as Chris did just minutes earlier.
"No," Chris sighs, appreciating the normal conversational topic for once. He can engage in small talk, if nothing else. "It was delivered to our mailbox for some reason."
"Ah." Avery nods her head, brows drawing in as she looks genuinely confused. When she initially opened the door in nothing but her robe, Chris thought for a moment that it all must have been a trick of some kind. But she seems just as confused as he, if not more so.
"Well, you've just moved in, so I guess it's to be expected." Chris shrugs, allowing that to be his final answer. He's satisfied with the outcome, but for some reason, Avery isn't.
Chris hesitates, ready to turn around and be on his way, but something stops him. Forces him to look at Avery closer, and study her.
She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth, looking between the package and Chris. "Thank you for the delivery, Mr. Postman." She says, her voice high-pitched and mocking. "But this isn't the package I really wanted."
Chris's jaw nearly drops to the ground. She didn't seriously say something that cheesy, did she?
Avery giggles and reaches up to undo the towel, sliding it off her still-wet hair. She's got a glow to her that can only be attributed to the water droplets actively drying off of her. The light refracts against them, making her look ethereal.
Chris has had about enough of Avery having the upper hand in all their interactions. He's got nothing better to do today, and he has some time to spare. He figures if there were ever a time to take charge of the situation, it would be now, especially since she's practically laying herself at his feet.
"Is your husband home?"
"No. Is your wife?"
"No."
Avery nods, smiling lightly as she opens her mouth to speak, but Chris doesn't let her; doesn't want to hear another teasing word from her mouth. Not until they're more sufficiently undressed, at least.
He leans down and closes the gap between them instantly, kissing her with all the passion he can muster up as the initial shock of the situation slowly fades from memory. He's still a bit awkward, too stiff and wary, but she accepts him eagerly. Opening her mouth as she hums, evidently pleased by the change in direction.
Chris stashes the mail on a random entryway table, and they stumble backward, hitting a wall that's adjacent to the stairs. Avery drops her towel to the floor, and it lands with a wet plop. It makes them both huff out a quick laugh, but it's not enough to distract their sudden fiery passion.
It's truly Avery's fault. She can't go around answering the door freshly showered in a short robe and expect any reasonable man to keep their cool. Or perhaps Chris has it wrong, and it should be the other way around. Maybe he's the unreasonable man, and he should know better and keep his hands to himself.
