A/N: I'm back, and with another Wilby one-shot! It's extreme AU, and I know Philby is an extreme tech geek, but I thought of Willa and her liking towards literature, and lyrics aren't too far from it. When I thought of her in a record store (cliche, I know, sorry), and an awkward Philby behind the counter, I had to do it, and here it is! Naming it, however, that's a different story. It took a while for me to name it, and I'm still not sure I like it, aha.

If there's any confusion, each time there's a line, another day has passed. I hope you like it, and please review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It all started on a rainy day.

Philby had been working an early shift, covering for a hungover co-worker, when the entrance bell dinged.

At first, he was shocked. It was fairly early into the day, around ten-thirty. Barely anyone came into the shop at ten-thirty and yet, when Philby looked up, there she was. Her hair was down and dark and slightly frizzy from the rain, and she was wearing a blue sweater that complimented her nicely. For a second, it was like he forgot to breathe.

She didn't even seem lost in the records, either. Too many times Philby had spotted young, giggly girls looping their way through the aisles, looking completely out of place among the stacks of music and plastic. No, this girl made her way straight to a specific stack that Philby knew held the more acoustic-like records, looking like she knew what she was doing. She'd clearly been here more than once.

He'd been in so much awe that he didn't notice the mop he had been using fell out of his hands. It landed with a sharp clatter, and then the girl was looking at him curiously.

In his eyes, he'd never seen anyone prettier, or more intriguing.

But, like a fool, he'd blushed and rushed off incoherently, and the girl had left five minutes later.

He was such an idiot.

The next time he saw her was by accident. Philby had just gotten off his shift, and he'd burst through the door eagerly, practically racing to home and flop into his bed and just sleep.

He didn't notice the girl reaching to open the door right as he flung it open.

Luckily, he hadn't hit her, but she was fairly startled. "Sorry!" he breathed, reaching out a hand to steady her. She smiled softly, and his heart fluttered.

"That's okay, it happens," she responded, and walked right on through the glass door without another word. The door closed with a quiet click, but Philby kept on staring.

She was certainly peculiar, that was for sure.

The third time, she was already there.

It was late in the afternoon. and Philby had just arrived for his shift. The store was filled to the brim with customers, as it usually was when he worked. As usual, Philby found himself cursing his luck. Of course he had to be the one to work the rush hour.

His co-worker, a broody man that preferred the name Maybeck, smirked pityingly at him. Maybeck was always one for irony - and an easy job. He tended to work the earlier shifts, mostly because he had seniority. Philby's luck just had to come with the crowd. "Sorry man," Maybeck said as he clocked himself out. "I'd help, but I've got a date with Charlie I've got to get to."

Philby waved him off. "Nah, it's alright, I know how Charlie gets. Go on, you don't want to be late." With a comforting pat, Maybeck was gone, and it was time for Philby to face the music. Alone. With a store full of people to help.

Stupid seniority.

Three checkouts and a broken record later, she approached him.

Her hair was in a bun that barely withheld the mop of dark curls he'd accustomed to her. Philby could clearly see the color of her eyes now because of it. Before, they'd been hidden to him, but with her hair pulled back, he could clearly spot the chocolate color to them. Philby thought they suited her. Sweet color to a cute girl.

There was a record in her hands, and a hesitant look in her eyes. Philby blinked. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, and Philby nearly did a double take.

"H-how can I help you?" he stuttered. Real smooth.

The girl fidgeted with the record in her hands. She didn't seem to know what to do with it. "Er," she mumbled. Philby found he quite liked her shy side. It was endearing. "It's just, my brother's birthday is coming up, and he really likes this band, but he already has this album and I was wondering if you had a different one in stock?" It all came out in a rush, and she blushed while she held the record out for him to see.

He smiled. The record she held was one he knew they had, but hadn't been restocked yet. "You're in luck," Philby said, and the girl perked up a bit. She was still blushing, but it seemed like curiousity overruled embarrassment when it came to her. Philby reached back behind the counter and plucked the newer record from its stack. He pushed it across the table top in her direction. "We got the load of them three days ago."

She grinned at him, and Philby felt his stomach drop. He wanted to see that smile more. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. She pushed it back towards him and said, "I'll get it."

Chuckling, he began to ring her up. "Your brother has good taste in music," he told her. Her eyes squinted happily.

"I think he does too, but I've never really listened to this band much, so I can't say, sadly."

"Not your type?" he asked. He already knew the answer - she was more of an acoustic fan based off of what she looked at - but he wanted to keep the conversation going for as long as he could, consequences be darned. Who knew when he'd get to talk to her again.

"Not exactly," was her easy reply. Philby nodded as she toyed with the edges of her sleeves. "I'm not into hard rock all that much."

Philby told her how much she owed. She slid the money out swiftly and held out her hand for him to take it. He pretended not to notice how her hand lingered slightly or how his hand tingled at her touch. It didn't work.

Soon enough, it was time for her to go. There was a small line growing beihind her, and they were starting to look impatient. Philby knew he had to hurry along for fear of losing business and angering his boss, but he didn't want it to end. However, his hand didn't cooperate, and he handed her the change. She smiled gratefully.

He chose to delay for another few seconds. "I hope your brother likes the album," he said. She laughed, and to him it sounded as musical as the records around him.

"I'm sure he will," she finished. Her hands looped around the bag and hesitated. Philby noticed her eyes narrowing on his nametag, but they were wide and twinkling again within the next second. Her mouth twitched, and as she turned to go, she called, "Thanks for the help, Philby!"

His hands fumbled with the CD the next customer handed him. Ignoring the dirty glare the customer sent him, he said, "Wait!"

There was a gleam in her eye when she turned. Philby chuckled, and muttered, "I don't think it's fair that you know my name, yet I don't know yours."

The curve of her lips shifted into a full smile. "Willa," she said, backing away. "My name is Willa."

Willa came around a lot more after her purchase. Philby never complained.

The two had formed a sort of dynamic now; she would wait until the customers started to span out, and he'd be waiting for her with a smile and a new record to play.

He began to notice the smaller details then, like how her eyes crinkled when she smiled or how she was constantly fiddling with the things surrounding her.

Even then, he still found himself curious to what else he could find. A little mishap here, to see if she liked this song. A purchase there, to see what her favorite snack was.

(M&Ms. He found that out the hard way.)

Philby never minded going the extra mile though. If it meant bringing the grin he'd come to crave seeing upon her lips, then he'd buy her the White House to get it.

(He hoped it didn't get that far, this job only paid so much. It didn't mean he wouldn't try, though.)

Maybe he shouldn't have done it.

After all, no matter how much he made Willa smile, it never really satisfied him. To her, he was only a sales clerk, maybe a friend, but he wanted so much more. He wanted to be the reason Willa smiled, the one to hold her hand constantly and tell her just how beautiful he thought she was. He wanted to know the small things, like why a specific joke made her laugh more, or how she took her coffee in the morning. He wanted to be the person she came to on a rough night, the one she introduced to her family with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

He wanted to be so much more than the awkward record store clerk.

He definitely should not have asked.

Waiting would have been the better option. He should have waited, should have done it himself, freaking Googled for goodness' sakes - anything but ask Maybeck for help.

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. He was fumbling around when it came to Willa, and she had begun to notice.

"Is everything okay, Philby? Do you need me to get you anything?"

No, she couldn't help him this time around. He needed to get his crap together, and fast.

He was just wondering just how much it would cost to relocate and change his name to Homer when his co-worker strolled in, his girlfriend on his arm and a broad smile on his lips. Maybeck had kissed her goodbye, and Philby was blabbing within the next minute.

Philby was seriously starting to regret it.

The lazy smirk hadn't moved since Philby finished, and Philby absolutely despised his friend for it.

"Oi, just because I don't know what to do does not mean you can smirk at me like I just confessed."

"Ah," Maybeck chided. He went to pat Philby's shoulder, but Philby swatted the hand away. Maybeck wasn't fazed. "Didn't you?" You finally came to the love doctor for advice. I was beginning to worry, I must say. I couldn't be prouder."

"You are in no way a love doctor -"

"Potato, potahto."

"- I mean, Charlie can verify that. You know what, never mind. I'm sure there's a Dating for Dummies copy somewhere in this mess."

Maybeck grinned. "You wanna date this girl?"

Philby scowled. Why did his words have to sound like he won the lottery? Maybeck definitely had not won the lottery.

"Of course I want to date her! Why would I try coming to the 'love doctor' if I didn't want to date her?"

"So you admit I am the love doctor?"

"Maybeck!"

An arm wrapped around Philby's shoulder. Philby scowled and tried to knock it off, but Maybeck was having none of it. Once his chuckling ceased, Maybeck turned Philby to face him with an earnest look. "Look, Philbo-"

"You know I hate that nickname."

"- if you really want to date this girl, just relax. Be the real you. You've got nothing to worry about."

Maybe talking to Maybeck wasn't such a bad idea.

Willa was too smart for her own good.

He'd picked up her intelligence in one of their stolen moments. She'd told him some of her favorite songs, and proceeded to explain every lyric, every verse and chord. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help to find himself entranced as she spoke with her hands flying, her cheeks pink and eyes bright. She amazed him with her ability to break down everything thrown at her. From then on, she'd only continued to amaze him.

But now, Philby wished she wasn't so observant.

It was an early shift, and for some unknown reason she had decided to come stick it out with him.

"I was in town anyway, Philby, and I've nothing to do today, anyway. It's no problem."

She had arrived with her hair down and wild, a soft glint in her gaze and his favorite coffee in her hands. She was a saint.

"You're a life saver."

"I thought you might say that."

And she'd given him a knowing look and placed herself on the stool he let her use during her visits with a smile.

(The stool was behind the counter, and his boss surely wouldn't let her if he knew about it, but Philby figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, Maybeck let Charlie do it all the time.)

They didn't speak much, but that was normal for them. Philby wasn't much of a talker and Willa was usually absorbed in her books, but he didn't mind the silence. It was comforting, in a way.

However, Philby couldn't handle this specific silence. The advice Maybeck had given him rang through his head, and he desperately wanted to use it, but every time Philby would look in her direction to speak, he'd clam up. He'd see her mirth filled expression at whatever she was reading, or meet her questioning gaze and completely choke.

Maybeck was wrong. If Philby was himself, he'd never get through this. If only he wasn't so awkward.

The first few times, Willa had looked confused at his abrupt turn of the head. But slowly, as his stumbled conversations kept coming, Willa seemed to piece together what was happening.

The next time he'd turned, determined to get it right, she was already looking at him expectantly. Her eyebrows were raised, her lips upturned in a small smirk. Philby knew that look. She knew, oh Lord, she knew. Why was he so obvious?

Philby's mind automatcally went back to the Homer relocation. Maybe if he was quick enough -

"You know what, Philby? The deli down the street is open, how about you treat me to some lunch when you get off? Since I did get you coffee this morning and all."

He looked over at her to see her blushing slightly, but seeming pleased. Maybe Maybeck was right.

A blush of his own spread across his cheeks. He hoped that he didn't look like a tomato. With his hair, it was probanly inevitable. "Yeah," he stumbled. "Yeah, that-that'd be great. Great. I mean, good. Fantastic. I," he sighed. Why did she have to make him so nervous? "I get off in ten."

Willa smiled brilliantly. "Great," she repeated, and Philby's stomach both dropped and did the tango. She walked off, presumably so Philby could take care of the customer suddenly waiting, but she had efficiently taken his mind away from his job. He had to restart twice because of his flumbling fingers.

The ten mintues couldn't come any faster.

When he finally got rid of the customer - his boss would love hearing him say that - Willa was waiting for him with an amused gleam to her eye. She offered him a smile, and Philby couldn't help but smile back. He offered her his hand with a newfound confidence. When she slid her palm against his, he felt like he was on top of the world.

He led her out the door, and they began the trek to the restaurant. Philby felt like he was going to faint. It didn't help that her hand tightened every so often around his. The skin where hers met his was afire, ready to burn away at any moment. Philby was sure he wouldn't mind if it did.

She stopped him with another tug. "Look," Willa said, pointing to the clouds. Philby peered up to see the beginnings of rainfall in the sky. "It's going to rain."

Surely enough, the first few raindrops began to fall only seconds later. They tangled into her curls, and Philby thought back to the first day he saw her. It'd been raining then, too. He grinned, squeezing her hand the tiniest bit.

"You know, I think rain might just be our lucky charm."

She smiled at him so brightly, Philby couldn't care less if the heavens decided to let it pour.