I'm His

9

The next morning, Chance scoots closer to me...closer...and closer...I don't realize it at first, deep in slumber. By the time I realize his game, he's pushed me off the edge of the bed. "Waugh!" Sprawled out on the floor, I glare up at my boyfriend. Chance laughs, grinning at me over the edge of the mattress. "What? You slept through your alarm. I was helping you out." I run my fingers through my hair. "My hero." I grumble under my breath. Getting up, I grab one of the pillows and smack him with it. He lifts up an arm to deflect it, still laughing as he pulls it out of my grasp and tosses it at me. "Ugh, Chance! You are so childish sometimes!" I huff at him. "Sounds to me like someone doesn't want a yacht ride." Grabbing more pillows, I take aim and start launching them at him. "You can't bribe me with yachts, mister!" Dodging, Chance grabs me around the waist and lifts me up, tossing me onto the bed. He wrestles with me, kissing me until I start laughing and squirming, begging for mercy.

"Then how about a shopping trip? Villains Vault?" I can't even pretend I'm not immediately swayed. Eyes widening, I hold onto his shoulders, struggling not to seem too desperate. The attempt is not very successful. "Yessss!"

~~

I drive, just barely keeping to the speed limits on Chance's motorcycle. Once we park, Chance takes my helmet off to kiss my forehead. "You're definitely good enough to get your own bike soon." I grin up at him. "Is that what we're here to do?" He chuckles. "Heh. Not quite." He slings an arm around my shoulder, leading me away. It's clear he has a destination in mind, since normally we like meandering from store to store. Twisting in past one of the alleys, he leads me through an unlabeled door. It's blessedly cooler than outside, the A/C a welcome relief from the constant oppressive heat. "What is this place...?" I see suits on mannequins, and a few accessories, but mainly there's fabric. Lots and lots of fabric. "This is where the rest of the gang gets their suits made." I grin ecstatically. "What? Really?" I scan the room with renewed curiosity, almost vibrating with excitement. 'I thought they each had their own thing. But I guess it makes sense that they all have a tailor they trust.'

Chance's hand slides down to the small of my back. "You wanted to be included. I'm trying my best...so a good first step is making sure you look the part." Elated beyond words, I leap up and wrap my arms around his neck. He catches me with a laugh, muffled by my lips as I kiss him for all I'm worth. "Oh my god! This is so cool!" 'The rest of the gang always look so amazing when they all dress the part...' When we all went out together, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. But now I'd have something that matched the rest of them...!

The tailor emerges from a back room. She's a wizened old woman, eyes resting in a permanent squint and her mouth always frowning. "Hey, ma'am." I blink up at Chance in surprise. 'The amount of times I've heard him call any woman 'ma'am' could fit on one hand.' "I have a special order here. Let's talk about something for my boyfriend." I look over at the mannequins. "Do I pick one of the ones on display...?" Chance shakes his head, walking over to a bolt of fabric and feeling it between his thumb and forefinger. "No, baby. We only do custom suits here. Mmm..." The tailor is quiet, just pulling out a notepad and listening to Chance talk about material. It goes beyond just thread count or fabric type. He even starts fussing over the country that the bolts come from. "Maybe if we head to New York this winter I'll worry about cashmere, but for now I want something light. It's hot outside, and it's only getting hotter. Chambray, maybe. Or linen. We want something very soft blue, like the sky. Or maybe white." Daring to speak up, I tug on Chance's sleeve, pulling him closer. "Uh, n-no. I know that's my normal aesthetic, but not today. Let's do black or navy blue, so I can match everyone else." I tilt my head in thought of the others. "You sure?" I nod, not trusting myself to speak as the tailor decisively offers a bolt of fabric for Chance to inspect. 'That's solid black.' I grin, the color something I haven't worn for so long it feels neglected.