Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara!, or any of the characters used in this fic. They are the property of Ryohgo Narita and Suzuhito Yasuda. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Just The Way You Are

A/N: For Sepsis.

"You're pretty."

That was the first thing he'd said to her, back when she and his father had struck a deal. He hadn't known what said deal was, but it hadn't mattered at all. As a four-year-old boy, he only knew that she, this stranger from across the seas, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She had lived with him and his father for the longest time, being subjected to experiments and cruel tests. Again, he hadn't understood any of it. Just that it was part of that old deal. Still, he hadn't liked seeing her in pain.

As he'd grown older, and started to understand that boys were supposed to like girls, he'd made up his mind: He was going to marry her.

But, if she was gone all the time, how could he? It was then, in elementary school, that he'd come up with a plan. While at school, during the class' arts and crafts time, he would make her things, writing her name on them in glitter glue or covering them with bright red hearts. She'd always accepted them without a fuss, which had made him feel that his plan to win her heart was working.

When middle school came, he'd met that "good-for-nothing" Izaya Orihara. He'd tried to talk with his friend about the love of his life, but it didn't work. Izaya had his own ideals, his own goals, and so, Shinra had buttoned his lip, living in silent awe of the headless woman who still wandered the halls of his home.

"If you want to win her over," Izaya had told him one day, "then you gotta make sure she knows how you feel. Make a move, Shinra. She's not gonna read your mind."

At the time, it had seemed like perfectly wonderful advice, which he had follwed with a skip in his step. That very same day, in which he had happened to learn what went on during a couple's honeymoon, Shinra had taken Celty aside, grinning from ear to ear as he knelt down on the kitchen floor. She didn't have a head, but he could tell that she was surprised. A decade of living with her had taught him that much.

He'd had a ring made for her, having paid a student skilled in welding to make it for him. In some places, it was charred and gray, even after the polishing he'd given it. Still, she hadn't made a fuss. She had accepted it, telling him that she loved it and that it was beautiful.

Seeing those words on the screen had made his teen heart soar.

High school was very much the same. He'd grown up significantly since the time he'd given her that shoddy ring, and had decided that he'd save up as much as he could to buy her a real one. A proper ring, worthy of her dazzling beauty. Sadly, by this time, she seemed to have grown rather anxious, often smacking him in the ribs when he went around telling people that they were an exclusive couple.

To him, the bruises weren't a means of sending him away. They were her way of saying, "I love you too, Shinra."

This continued on through his college days, a good twenty years after his faling in love with her. He would come home, stare at her through the shower door, and end up with a bar of soap shoved halfway down his wind pipe. Even so, he'd swallow the taste gladly, knowing that it had come from Celty. Had anyone else done such things to him, he would have asked Izaya to make them miserable.

When she lamented, insisting that she needed to find her head, he would just pat her shoulder, smile, and say, "You're beautiful just the way you are."

But now, on the happiest day of his life, she was finally his, resting in the sun beside him on the balcony. The smoke that rose from her neck said that she was anxious about being dressed this way, in a bathing suit. But he just touched her hand in reassurance.

He'd asked once again, and Celty had accepted, making him the happiest man alive.