You know when you step into the elevator of your building and run into the older guy your husband might be having an affair with who might also be a supernatural entity and it’s totally not awkward at all? Yeah, neither does Wilson. Sorry buddy.
The ding and the movement of the doors, and Wilson stepped into the elevator, where a pair of stunningly blue eyes looked out at him. Wilson took in the white hair above them, the suit below.
“Michael, I think?” he said, and the man looked startled, then seemed to recognize him.
“Mr. Herrara, is it?” The elevator doors gently closed.
“Yes. So nice to meet you. I know you and my husband have been getting close…”
“Not close.” Michael replied gruffly.
“Well… you’ve… met… anyway.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Michael said, his manner melting into buttery warmth. “Of course, I’m sorry. I suppose we have been spending quite some time together.”
“Right…”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Hererra.”
“Please, Wilson.”
“Likewise.” Michael replied with a dip of his head. Wilson held back the grin tickling at his mouth,
“I should call you Wilson?” he asked, with as much innocence as he could muster. Michael blanched slightly, and Wilson released the grin, which by now was a small trickle of laughter, but Michael’s face remained hard. Wilson felt his spine automatically straighten a little, pulling his hips to centre and his limbs into alignment. His voice also habitually dropped pitch a little. “Sorry.” he said. “Couldn’t resist.”
“Oh, my dear, there’s no need for that.” That warmth again. Wilson glanced back at Michael, who still looked quite stern. “The joke I found irritating, the manner with which you delivered it was not the issue.”
“Oh.” Wilson’s body loosened slightly, back to his usual posture. “So you are an old queen. We thought so, but we weren’t sure.”
“Am I a frequent topic of discussion for you?” Was that a smile playing across those stiff lips?
“No no,” Wilson laughed, “Byron’s just always had a thing for old queens soo…” his words were cut off by a knot quickly tightening in his stomach. Treacly silence lay over the room and Wilson realized this was an awfully long elevator ride. He glanced at the buttons— of course. Only the 14 was lit, presumably by Michael; who at that moment chuckled slightly.
“Noticed, did you?”
“You didn’t think to ask?” Wilson asked, half cheekily, but with a twinge of genuine annoyance. Michael simply shrugged, remaining silent as they slowed down and the doors dinged open. He turned around in the hallway and locked eyes with Wilson until the doors closed, smirking slightly with his head cocked to the side. Wilson shook his head and felt a tremor of goosebumps continue the shake, running down his entire body. He jammed the 4 button with his thumb and stared at its light until it turned off just before the doors opened.
of Wit and Whiskey 