Fairytale of London

Merry Christmas

This is SUPPOSED  to show a very dysfunctional relationship between morally-grey headcanons of each character. This is not a representation of a healthy queer relationship in any way.

Big TW for sexism and homophobia.

(William's POV)

It's Christmas Eve 2021, only five hours until the clock strikes midnight. Everyone else went home long ago. Even Alexander. As they were all filtering out, Ronald Knox, the annoying brat from Finance, put his hand on my shoulder and said "Come on mate, you've got a bird waiting at home,"

I turned away and continued with my work. But my mind wandered to my fiancé. My beautiful girlfriend, Grell. She, too, can be an annoying brat sometimes. But what I like about her vexing nature is how it inspires me to act just as goofy. I become a child again with her, and all my stress evaporates.

Most of my stress is about money. London is an exceptionally expensive place to live, and to maintain our apartment and lifestyle, I've had to take on extra hours at work. I don't mind that, but if I get one more bill this year, we're out on our arses. And my Christmas cheque hasn't arrived.

I don't blame Grell. She's been looking for a job, but I know how difficult it is for her. Companies love hiring one or two trans women but they seem to have a higher standard for recruiting them. And if they're alternative in even the slightest way? Not a chance. Her drama degree helps only in one field, and the trickle of auditions she was getting slowed to a drip once she socially transitioned. Despite her unemployment, I'm extremely lucky to have her.

My laptop snaps closed. What am I doing? I should be at home, with my fiancé. I rush from my office and flag down the first taxi I can find.

Grell and I may not be a traditional couple, but we form traditions of our own. We do our New Years Resolutions on Christmas rather than Hogmanay, as I'm usually working on Hogmanay and then we get rather inebriated. When it comes time for the bells, we've fallen asleep on the bright red futon. So, Christmas is the beginning of a new year for us.

She's on the futon when I return home, watching reruns of old Christmas films. She's taken something, a discarded baggie at her feet. It was her resolution for next year to get clean. Well, our next year starts tomorrow.

Taking her hand in mine, I stare into her glowing acid-green eyes. They reflect the shimmering Christmas lights that hang on our window. The yellow parts of her eye flash golden.

"I have a feeling this year's for me and you,"

(Grell's POV)

Ten years ago to the day, I stepped off the train at King's Cross. I'd never been to London before, and the Thames was made of gold as it sat under the Christmas lights. It was freezing, which inspired me to drop my last coin in the cup of an old beggar. His hair fellas long as his butt, so that must've kept him warm. His face was scarred, from the little I could see under his fringe. I tried my best not to look. London is no place for the old in the winter, I thought as I passed by a scarf in the window of a high-end boutique.

I was especially amused by a man standing on the street corner in nothing but a suit, trying to flag down a taxi. I wandered up to him, and with one "Hi," - that was it. We eloped our eyes. "We have the same eyes,"

"Many people do, in fact," he answered. "Though it's uncommon, bi-coloured yellow-green eyes are a genetic mutation

know as the 'Shinigami' model, which is technically a genetic disorder-"

He shut up when I took his hand in mine. I hadn't transitioned yet, and wondered if the first person I spoke to in London was about to beat the shit out of me. He just smiled, and told me to follow him.