Chapter Text
It took fifty years, but I finally found a man who loved to shop as much as I do. Granted, he only shopped at thrift stores, but I'd take what I could get.
Willie wedged his tongue firmly between his lips, flicking through the secondhand clothes on the rack at speed, scandalizing a blue-haired septuagenarian in the queue behind him. Why so many humans flocked to these dingy little holes in the wall would always be a mystery to me. But his eyes sparkled every time he discovered a new one, and my unbeating heart melted just a little. I always humored him and trailed behind him as he perused the aisles, searching for new outerwear.
The floors in this rat trap were in dire need of scrubbing, and the walls had been yellowed with cigarette smoke, or worse. Every one of these godforsaken places had an odor I couldn't quite pin down. It seemed permanently torn between mothballs and off-brand detergent. Whatever Willie bought would face the wrath of Gain detergent and fabric softener before dawn.
Willie made a pleased sound in the back of his throat and tugged two hangers loose from the rack, holding them up for my inspection. The suit dangling from his right hand was eye-searingly green and patterned with pink leopard spots. The one on the right was an equally violent shade of pink but paired with a more sedate pinstripe pattern.
"What do you think, Angel Fangs?" he asked, flashing me a sharp, glittering smile. The septuagenarian peering over the next row shrieked and dropped her purchase, abandoning her cart and purse to alert the manager. We'd have another ten minutes before we'd be quietly asked to leave.
The honest answer was that both were crimes against God and nature, the fevered imagining of some mad seamstress, and only purchased by the exceptionally gullible.
Of course, that was the point.
When I'd first met him, I'd assumed he was a buffoon. I'd find him palling around with Mo, Winter, and a few of the others, laughing and shooting the breeze. He wasn't handsome by any traditional measure, and he wasn't smart enough to stay out of Nikolaos' way. Humans who entered her orbit rarely made it out intact. And to cap it all, he couldn't seem to dress himself properly.
Then I'd seen him during his day job as a career snitch for St. Louis PD. He'd seemed shrunken in the pedestrian gray suit and blue power tie. Willie could blend in with the prosaic masses, knew better than most how to disappear in plain sight and keep his head down.
He chose not to. In this doldrum world, who wouldn't appreciate a little color and a chance to smile? He was secure enough to be the butt of the joke. Enjoyed it, in fact. It was why I loved him, despite the often embarrassing stares we got in public. It was why I had to make him mine, even though it robbed some of the light from his world.
"Both," I said, returning the toothy smile. "And I think you should pair the pink trousers with the green suit jacket. With a striped shirt to go underneath, perhaps."
Willie's eyes sparkled as he leaned toward me. If I'd had blood to waste on a blush, my cheeks would have been flaming.
"Excellent fashion sense, as always. This is why they call you my better half, you know."
"The better-dressed half, anyway," I sniffed.
He laughed, loud and obnoxious, and I could only smile.
It was always good to have a laugh.