Fandom: Charlie Parker Novel Series
Characters: Louis, Angel.
Summary: Louis and Angel couldn’t be more mismatched if they tried.
Word Count: 417
Written For: oneill’s prompt ‘Any, Any, opposite tastes in clothing,’ at fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Charlie Parker series of books, or the characters. They belong to John Connolly.
“What the fuck you wearing?” Louis studied the man in front of him, a pained expression on his face.
“It’s my new suit. What d’you think?” Angel practically preened, smoothing down the shiny lapels.
“You actually paid good money for that? You been robbed; should demand your money back,” was Louis’ informed opinion. Angel was his partner, in every respect of the word, but when it came to taste in clothes… Suffice to say, he was somewhat lacking. No, scratch that; he just didn’t have any taste whatsoever. Probably poor eyesight too, which Louis could understand; he was going blind just from looking at the shiny fabric. Angel liked shiny things; probably accounted for why he became a thief in the first place.
“What’s wrong with it?” the smaller man asked, managing to look puzzled and offended at the same time.
“How ‘bout everything? You seriously wearing that? I’m ashamed to be seen with you.”
“Oh yeah?” For once despite his normally lightning wit and smart mouth, Angel couldn’t seem to formulate a suitable comeback.
“On the other hand,” Louis added, “at least your lack of taste is consistent.” He shot the cuffs of his snowy white shirt beneath the sleeves of his immaculately tailored slate grey suit; you could buy a dozen of Angel’s suits for less than one of Louis’, if you were so inclined, which anyone with taste wouldn’t be. Then again, just getting Angel into a suit at all constituted a miracle, considering he usually went with colourful and badly mismatched separates. The toes of red suede boots peeked from under the trouser cuffs of the shiny suit and Louis gave a resigned sigh. Sometimes he wondered just what it was that kept them together, and yet, despite their violently opposing tastes in clothes, they complemented each other in ways that were hard to define. Angel knew Louis better than anyone else ever had, and the reverse was equally true. They were as mismatched as Angel’s clothes, but they worked.
“You planning to stare at yourself all day? If you are, I may just leave you here. Don’t want to be late.”
“Yeah, yeah. Jeez, a little patience! Is that too much to ask?” Angel brushed a fleck of lint off a shiny sleeve, checked his appearance one last time, and headed for the door.
Behind his partner’s back, Louis allowed himself the faintest flicker of a smile. Angel would never change. If he did, that was when Louis would start to worry.