Fixing the backwards cap on your head perfectly, so that it allowed the right amount of hair to fall from each side, you grinned at your reflection in the mirror. You picked up the main prop of your costume, that you believed completed it to no end, before skipping out your bedroom door; excitement evident on your face. You were going out trick or treating with your boyfriend, who was adamant on wearing couple costumes, but you really didn’t feel like walking around your neighborhood in Princess Leia’s infamous gold bikini in Return of the Jedi, so after hours of arguing, Stiles allowed you to pick your own costume.
The doorbell rang, and you grabbed the bucket of candy on the table that contained two awfully bloody candles that had wax dripping all over the table. You couldn’t help but get into the Halloween mood this year, hence the fake cobwebs lining your foyer much to your parent’s dismay. You opened the door, jumping at the sight in front of you with a small yelp. It wasn’t kids dressed as princesses and a frog, it was your boyfriend with fangs, fake hair stuck to his face and blood seeping his white ripped up shirt. You laughed at the sight of wolf ears attached to his mop of brown hair.
“How ironic,” you said, opening the door wider for him to enter.
“At least I put effort into my costume. What the hell are you meant to be?” His voice was muffled with the fangs still in, but you knew him well enough to understand what he was saying.
You grinned at him, pulling the baseball bat out from behind you and fixed your blue, unbuttoned checked shirt, “Look, I dressed up as you.” You shouted over the bang of the fireworks, lighting the sky up. Stiles jaw dropped, before the laughter was uncontrollable, he doubled over, patting his hands to his knees. You continued to giggle at him, waiting for him to say something.
“That… that is absolutely brilliant.” Stiles laughed, flicking away fake tears from the outer corner of his whiskey colored eyes. “I love you,” he giggled, pulling you closer and planting an unexpected kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, but pulled away and grabbed the two open head plastic pumpkins by your door.
“Now, let’s go get some candy.” You squeaked, popping around him and slamming your door shut. You handed him a plastic basket to fill up with his candy, which he accepted but stood in his spot, pulling out his phone. He flicked open the camera, pointing it towards you. “What are you doing?” You groaned, but didn’t cover your face. It was scientifically proven that if you covered your face instead of smiling for a photo, you automatically look ugly.
“Just making sure there’s proof of an imposter if someone that looks strangely similar to me is witnessed to be anywhere near a murder scene.”
You rolled your eyes at his words, “It would be you at a murder scene, you scone.”
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Toad's Cave 