Title: Truly Outrageous

Summary: Herc comes home one October to find his house completely transformed by Halloween. He's not crazy about it.

Character(s): Angela Hansen; Herc Hansen; Chuck Hansen

Disclaimer: Pacific Rim and all things related are property of Guillermo del Toro and Legendary Pictures.

(October 31, 2008)

When he stepped through the door that evening, the last thing he expected to see was a leggy purple woman with volumized pink hair and blue stylized face paint smeared around her eyes to accompany a loud costume.

"Hey, sweetheart," She approached him with open arms, glitter falling from her outfit.

He took one of her outstretched hands and gave her a twirl as he looked her over. "Who are you and what did you do with my wife?" He joked.

"Your wife took the day off, something about going to a spa in Manila," Angela replied with grin. "I'm her temporary replacement. Whadya think?"

"Not a bad fit, but, did I miss something?" Herc murmured, dropping his bag on the floor. The lights in the living room are dim. The environment was completely transformed, looking akin to a rundown shack in an old Funky Phantom episode than anything that resembled their living room. Her big earrings jingle in objection; Angela twirled the microphone in her hand and danced clumsily in her pink heels. "It's Halloween, Herc," She declared happily.

"Yeah, I got that much," He replied slowly. "But we don't celebrate Halloween."

"Sure we do, at least we should," Angela smiled. "My mum used to dress me and my sister up all the time. We had parties at the school. Dunking for apples and trolling for lollies, everything."

"My parents did the opposite," He said. Angela made a face, wrapping her arms around him. Herc groaned at the smell of face paint and lavender as she kissed him. "Poor, Hercules, your childhood was awful," She said.

Herc rolled his eyes as she buried her face in his neck and laughed. He wouldn't say his childhood was awful, jokingly as she meant it, but he hardly felt he missed out on anything if Halloween was defined merely by dressing up, vandalism and hunting for candies. He could do that in his own spare time.

"Where's Chuck?" He asked as she pulled away from him. Angela pointed toward the stairs. "He's upstairs, wanted to put his costume on by himself."

Herc grinned. "Huh, big guy, huh?"

"That he is. Feels like only yesterday I was changing the diapers," Angela lamented.

"We still got- what? Twenty five years before he doesn't need us anymore, yeah?" Herc calculated with a shrug. Angela agreed on basic principle, not exactly eager to tally up how old she'd be once her son hit his thirties.

The bedroom door opened, they listened to their son march down the stairs. As he came into view, his Bulbasaur hoodie obscured his face as it flopped forward in spite of his attempts to keep it up. "Hiya, dad," He greeted as his hood fell forward again.

"Hey, Chuck," Herc regarded his wife with a look as if to ask what his son was supposed to be. Angela shrugged, not entirely sure herself. The light caught the end of her earrings, intensifying her grin (if such a thing were possible). "Look, we've got about couple minutes before Margret shows up. Would you like to tag along with us?"

"I don't have a costume."

"Mom bought you one," Chuck interjected. "You got a peg leg and everything."

"A pirate? Really, Angie?"

"What, you've got the beard and the- "arg!" She made a growly face, framing it with air quotations, "—and everything. You'd be a perfect pirate and it's only for one night. Your mates will never find out about it at the base."

"You'd be surprised what they can weasel out of a man after a few drinks."

"Then don't drink, abstain from liquid courage until this is all but a memory."

"How long is that?"

"A week, give or take."

He could do a week, he thought. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Okay, Mr. Hansen," Angela adjusted the lapels of his jacket. "Get up those stairs, and put your eye patch on." It was clear she wanted to say more (do more), some pirate-related innuendo, but hesitated because of the eager little boy jumping around on the stairs. He kissed her, not really caring if he smudged her lipstick. In the corner of his eye, he could see Chuck making faces.

When he finally pulled away, Angela was grinning from ear to ear. "Yes ma'am," He replied huskily.

Chuck hopped down the rest of the stairs and followed his mother into the kitchen. Herc protested silently all the way up the stairs at the mere prospect of wearing a costume.

It fit, but he felt ridiculous stepping out of the house with one eye obscured by a patch, wearing an outfit that looked better suited for a paperback novel. Still, he had to admit it. He did look the part of a pirate.

(FIN)

Author's Note: Chuck's costume reference inspired by this artwork by jaegerorangecat on tumblr. And yes, Angela is supposed to be Jem. For whatever reason, the doll my big sis owned had purple skin, so, naturally, I thought the show was about a race of singing alien ladies.