Page 31 of Shifter Omegaverse AU

“Rough day?” Ray asked, handing Milo their cheetah print overcoat.

“Just…a lot going on in my head,” Milo said, grabbing their pink backpack, which sadly only somewhat matched their majenta blazer and pumps. They hadn’t had much time to get dressed this morning, so they were working with what they had.

“Well, we have two hours to grab food and get ready. I’m all ears if you wanna talk.”

Milo smacked a kiss on Ray’s forehead, leaving behind a smudge of pink lip gloss. Ray sighed indulgently and waited a very flattering three seconds before wiping it away.

Despite Ray’s kind offer, Milo didn’t actually want to talk about Rowan. Aside from Ray and Ethel’s teasing, Milo hadn’t talked about their 4G—precisely because he wasn’t actually theirs.

Even if it was becoming painfully clear that was what they and their pony wanted.

None of that mattered right now, though. Between visiting Ethel and going on pseudo-dates with Rowan, they hadn’t done anything fun with Ray in weeks. They still cuddled on one of their couches almost every evening, but tonight was going to be about just the two of them, going out and having fun together…along with the hundreds of other singles at the club.

“Oh my gods, you have to wear that. It’s actually so cute!” Ray gushed as Milo held up a mesh crop top from the 80s. “If you pair it with some booty shorts, you’ll look so hot.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact you sound surprised,” Milo said, peeling off the polo they’d worn to work. “I’m not sure about the booty shorts, though.”

“Aww, come on, when you bought these, there wasn’t a matching pair of bright red mesh shorts?”

There actually had been, and Milo had bought them, which meant they were here… somewhere. They didn’t want to destroy their closet trying to find them, though. If tonight was anything like all the other nights they went to the club, they’d be out quite late, and Milo wouldn’t have time to clean again before meeting Rowan for strawberries in the morning.

“Will jean shorts do?” Milo asked, pulling out a pair of shorts with pink and yellow flowers embroidered across the front.

“You know, I actually think they will,” Ray said, grabbing Milo’s makeup case on the way into the bathroom.

They’d done a cursory clean that morning, which meant everything was crammed tightly into the tiny armoire under the sink. Thankfully, they kept most of their makeup and the makeup they used on Ray in the hardshell traveling case they’d gotten at a flea market with Anabelle. It was a hideous puke green color, but it did the job.

“Are you thinking a smoky eye? Maybe a bold lip to go with your shirt?” Milo asked, taking in Ray’s outfit, a tight neon pink t-shirt over skinny black jeans with holes ripped down the front.

“I am entirely in your hands,” Ray said, plopping down on the toilet and spreading their legs for Milo to step in between. “Except I’m definitely kissing someone tonight, so maybe nothing too wild on my lips.”

Milo sighed internally but dutifully set to work.

It wasn’t that Milo wanted Ray to stay single forever. Truly, they wanted nothing more than for Ray to find his person and settle down. They just didn’t think his person was likely to be at the club tonight. Or any other night.

Although, Rowan had said he went clubbing from time to time, and he was definitely the kind of person someone would bring home to their parents.

Not that Ray would be doing that. Or Milo, obviously. So maybe that was a moot point.

“-hy are -ou -aking -at -ace?” Ray asked, attempting not to move his lips while Milo painted a stain on them.

“I’m not making a face,” Milo said, schooling whatever expression they—or more likely, their pony—was making. The only person or creature on the planet that worried more about Ray than Milo was their pony.

“Are -oo.”

“Bless you,” Milo said.

Ray huffed through his nose.

“You have everything you need?” Milo said, ignoring their best friend. “WWPDP?”

Whistle, wallet, pepper spray, a drink cover, and a charged phone.

It was the same list Anabelle had drilled into Milo every time they went out in the city at night. They could still remember their first time going to a club when they turned 21. She’d handed them their house keys, with a pink can of pepper spray and a purple whistle so new it still had the tag on it. She’d shown Milo how to use the pepper spray and whistle years earlier, but before she let them leave, she pulled down a glass and made them practice putting the reusable drink cover over it.

Over the years, Milo had lost the pepper spray, the whistle rusted, and someone invented a drink cover that could be worn around the wrist like a hairband, but the sentiment remained the same.

Maybe that was why Ray didn’t so much as bat an eye at Milo’s overprotectiveness. “Yup,” he said, popping the “p” as a way to smooth the stain across his lips. “Got it all in my bag.”