[Okay Anon I changed it a little because the image of Clint as Igor popped into my head and I couldn’t shake it. This was going to be a sad commentary on who the real monster is, but instead you get cheesy pick up lines.]
“So what are you supposed to be?”
Clint glanced up at the other man. Although he was shorter than Clint, Clint was hunched over (and his back was killing him from the weight of the false hump). The man wore a sharp white lab coat that buttoned off-center, a stethoscope, and rubber gloves. His long curly hair was all feathered out around his head. His brown eyes were sparkling. Clint’s jaw dropped, partly out of recognition, partly from how cute the man was.
“Holy–you’re Dr. Frankenstein!”
The man smiled winningly. “Whoa, yes. How’d you get that? People keep saying doctor, but not, well. Not Frankenstein.” He coughed awkwardly.
“Because I’m Igor. I have to know my own boss.” Clint grinned at him.
Frankenstein snapped his fingers. Or, tried to. It didn’t work with the rubber gloves. “That’s why Tony’s been giggling all night. He said I should talk to you. I thought maybe he knew you.”
Clint nodded. He gestured with his beer at the tightly packed living room. “He invited me, but I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s off playing host.” Frankenstein leaned back against the wall. He was nursing a glass of sprite. “And spreading rumors, of course.”
“Of course,” Clint agreed. But then he asked, “What rumors?”
“Um.” Frankenstein blushed fiercely. It made the dark, painted smudges under his eyes stand out more. “Just that, well. I guess it makes more sense now that I realize you’re an Igor and I’m a Dr. Frankenstein. Did you, did you come with someone?”
“No,” Clint said slowly.
Frankenstein glanced around the room nervously. “Well. Tony seemed to think that only a, a couple would do something like…” He gestured back and forth between them very quickly, indicating their costumes. “Which is of course ridiculous.”
“Aw,” Clint said. He pouted. “Just because I’ve got a hunch back thing going? I don’t always have that you know.”
Frankenstein looked at him, confused. “What? There’s nothing wrong with–I mean, I didn’t assume you did.” He paused, flustered, and began rolling his glass in his hands.
Clint grinned. “And anyway, the hump is a real turn on for some guys.”
“Really?” Frankenstein asked faintly. His eyes went out of focus like he was picturing it.
“Some people say it’s not the size of the hump, it’s how you use it, but I think it’s both.” Clint’s grin grew larger as Frankenstein blushed. “What do you think?”
Frankenstein gaped for a moment before closing his mouth with a decisive click. Clint could see the resolve wash over him as he talked himself into it, then Frankenstein said, “I usually just have to worry about people screaming it’s alive! It’s alive!” He grinned sheepishly at his own bad joke.
But Clint laughed. “It’s a shame we couldn’t do a couple’s costume this year,” he said. “Maybe we should plan better next year.”
“Oh.” Frankenstein went back to nervously rolling his glass. “You think?” He sounded hopeful. “I don’t even know your name. I can’t call you Igor for the rest of your life.”
Clint resisted the urge to say it was okay if it was him. “I’m Clint.”
He nodded. “Clint. I’m Bruce.” He stuck out one rubber-gloved hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Dr. Frankenstein,” Clint said, grinning as he shook Bruce’s hand. “I think this is the start of a great partnership.” He raised his glass. “To next year.”
“Next year.” Bruce mirrored him and delicately sipped his sprite. “Till death do us part and then some.”
Clint nodded. “And then some,” he agreed.