Title: Halloween
By: anthrop . androgynous napkin
Rating: T
Summary: Entry for PepSquee's Halloween contest. Todd's first Halloween; each selects the other's costume for interesting results. Cameos from JTHM and IZ. Ages: Todd – 12; Pepito - 11
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Lunch at the local elementary school. All across the quad young teens ate questionable cafeteria food, relaxed with friends, and did the usual teenage thing. Posters taped to almost every flat surface proclaimed in orange or black paint that the school dance would take place on Halloween, and that Wednesday was a minimum day filled with contests, games, free food, and a DJ. The PTSA expected the largest turnout in five years.
Two sixth graders sat at a lunch table chained to the oldest tree on campus. It was close enough to the library that almost no one ever bothered them, except of course the occasional baked pothead. There, Todd Casil watched with a mixed expression of apprehension and morbid interest as Pepito Diablo reenacted various scenes from his weekend in the deeper depths of Hell. It didn't sound like something any mortal would particularly enjoy, but then again, Pepito was only half mortal. And though his friend disturbed him more often than not, it paid to be on good terms with the Antichrist. In the highly likely event of his death and/or the end of the world, it was comforting to know that someone was paying attention to his soul. And even if he ended up in Hell, at least Pepito would try and make it that much more comfortable for him.
"But anyway," Pepito went on, changing the subject. "It's Halloween in a week. What are your plans for that most glorious of holidays?"
Todd paused, gnawing on a bit of hard bagel. "I haven't really thought about it," he said offhandedly.
"What do you mean?" Pepito seemed genuinely dumbfounded. "You're not doing anything?"
"Well, I dunno," Todd replied, picking a sesame seed out of his teeth. "This is my first Halloween home in a couple years. I'm probably just going to relax at home . . . or something. I don't really see much point in scrambling around trying to find a good costume or party or something."
Pepito looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you or aren't you a twelve-year old American boy? Isn't the 31st supposed to be better than Christmas?" A thin-lipped sneer as he was self-reminded of his holy counterpart. He stopped pacing and stood with hands on his hips. "Well, what have you done in the past?"
"Um . . . nothing?" Todd looked slightly uncomfortable.
The other blinked. "You've never celebrated Halloween before?" he asked faintly.
"No. I haven't." Face growing pink and an awkward silence fell like a brick wall between them. They both knew why Todd had experienced so little childhood fun. Pepito felt a burst of anger at the thought of the other's neglectful parents, but forced himself to relax. Todd would only think he was angry with him, which could never be the case. Deep, calming breaths. Grinned crookedly as an idea came to him.
"Than you shall this year."
"What?" Todd didn't get it, but then again he was a little slow sometimes. That's what made this so fun.
"Father's letting me have free reign this year—no supervision, I mean—" the grin became minutely wider, "—so this is perfect. I was considering trick-or-treating anyway. Now, there is a problem, if we do this."
The hopeful and warily excited expression on Todd's face quickly wilted. "Problem?" The usual nervous pitch had replaced the embarrassment in his hoarse voice. In his short life, the word problem had never meant anything good.
"Costumes, amigo," Pepito said obviously. "The best part about Halloween is costumes."
Todd frowned, thinking back to past October 31sts he had witnessed from his bedroom window. "What, you mean like polyester capes and plastic masks making fun of your dad?" Finished his bagel and threw out the plastic wrapper. Pepito chuckled, tapping his pointed nose.
"Ah, but you are friends with me."
0 0 0 0
After school at Pepito's house. Friday afternoon. Todd sat on the ground, playing with Woofles, the other's three-headed Chihuahua (distantly related to Cerberus, or so Pepito said), while Pepito surfed the Internet looking for inspiration. He muttered to himself occasionally, sounding increasingly frustrated as time passed. Todd glanced at him once or twice, but stopped quickly after Woofles bit him on the knee. You don't ignore three-headed dogs, no matter how tiny they are.
Suddenly Pepito threw the keyboard shelf back into the desk with a loud bang and a savage growl. Todd flinched as he swiveled to face him, maroon eyes focused intensely. "This is proving far more difficult than I first imagined," he said curtly.
"You don't have to do this," Todd replied quickly. "I don't really care if we do anything at all. I can do without Halloween." This, however, seemed to be the exact opposite of what the other wanted to hear.
"You don't really mean that . . . right, Todd?" It was the softest, most human voice Todd had ever heard Pepito use. Woofles gnawed playfully on his fingers but he couldn't feel it in his shock. Was—was it even possible for the Antichrist to sound so . . . hurt?
And then Todd remembered. A tiny comment, a mere mention by Mrs. Diablo years ago. It was easy to remember the day, as that had been the first time he had ever touched Pepito's horns. There was still a shiny pink burn smeared across the palm of his left hand. Back then the Diablos still hadn't realized the amount of accidents Todd got into, so Pepito had gone to fetch the first-aid kit from upstairs while Mrs. Diablo ran cold water over Todd's blistering hand.
"He didn't mean for that to happen," she said to him with one of her charming smiles. "He's been so careful these past few weeks. Halloween's his birthday, and you're the only other boy he wants to come to his party." Could remember sniffling, looking up into her face. "Oh yes," she'd gone on, "he was so sad last year. He got his hopes up so much when he thought you'd be able to spend the night with us, but . . . things . . . always seem to happen to you." She had frowned thoughtfully, as if uncertain if the words she was saying came from her own mind.
He remembered staring, dumbfounded that the women who had been too blind to realize she had married the Devil had managed to see his terrible luck, a feat that not even Pepito seemed capable of giving a passing glance. Someone had noticed. Remembered the expression on his face, the pain of hellfire seeping into his bones momentarily forgotten, at the sheer magnitude of it. He had pushed the mention of Pepito's birthday completely out of his head, and here was the result of that harmless, completely accidental action slapping him in the face.
"Oh god, Pepito I'm sorry, I forgot—" stopped short, seeing the expression on the other's skeletal face.
"I remembered yours," Pepito said softly, and that hurt even more because that was one of the few things he couldn't remember if his life depended on it. Todd felt his stomach clench tightly, twitched with the guilt-ridden pain.
"I—Pepito . . ." Didn't know what to say, what to do to fix this mess. Could just sit there on the ground, Woofles whining pitifully for attention, the only sound in the room as they stared in silence.
A knock on the door and Mrs. Diablo's head entered.
"Boys," she said, "I was wondering if you could help me with dinner?"
"Of course, Mother," Pepito said immediately, as if nothing was wrong. Got to his feet and followed his mother out, Todd trailing meekly behind. Downstairs Mrs. Diablo put them to work; her son washing the fruit for the fruit salad, Todd chopping them, as it seemed Pepito was temporarily grounded from sharp objects. The faucet water steamed as it hit Pepito's hands though it came out cold. Obviously he was still displeased. Todd swallowed and hoped the other would manage to keep his infamous temper in check. Mrs. Diablo hummed tuneless at the stove, unaware of the tension feet away.
"Um . . ." Todd began, testing the waters. A low growl sounded in the other's throat, and the next pear was burnt black and smoking. He decided it was smarter to stay quiet a little longer.
"How are we doing?" Mrs. Diablo asked on her way from the spice rack. Both made noncommittal sounds. She suddenly cried out, dropping the basil. "Oh, Todd, you're bleeding!"
"Huh?"
Looked at his hands and saw the bite marks running up and down the skin, thick beads of blood trickling all over the fruit salad. He was suddenly conscious of the pain and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. How had he not even noticed? Blood smears all over his clothes, and from the dry crackly feel of it his face too—when had that happened?
But Pepito wore an almost curious expression. It was as if he had been struck by a wondrous idea, one where the whole picture was still uncertain but the pieces were falling rapidly into place His eyes lingered hungrily on the large fruit knife in Todd's mangled hands, flitting up and down Todd's body, and he smile wide. "Here Mother, I'll take care of things," he said smoothly, taking the knife from a bemused Todd. "You needn't keep an eye on us."
For a moment Mrs. Diablo seemed uncertain, but then smiled vacuously, her eyes slightly cross-eyed. "Thanks, sweetie!" Nodded at Todd. "Such a thoughtful boy." She tottered out of sight.
"I dislike doing that to her," Pepito sighed. "But sometimes she can be so stubborn. A push is sometimes necessary."
Todd, through a slowly fading haze of pain, wondered if Pepito had ever given him a little "push" as well. He didn't fight Pepito as he was pushed into a chair and cleaned up. The bites weren't nearly as bad as they looked, thankfully, but more gauze than Band-aids were deemed necessary. Todd noticed the curious expression on the other's face and opened his mouth to question it, but Pepito halted him with a cutting gesture. "No words, por favor. I am thinking." He complied, waiting and flinching occasionally as Pepito touched a particularly painful wound. Finished.
"That wretched dog!" But Pepito was smiling as he washed his hands in the sink. "I apologize, Todd. I'll make sure he doesn't do it again."
"Well, don't hurt him," Todd said automatically, knowing his friend all too well. Pepito chuckled, and shivers ran down Todd's spine.
"We'll have to work on that," he said, smirking.
The shivers turned to goose bumps, spreading across his skin. "What do you mean?" he asked, unable to help the tremors in his voice.
"I believe I have decided on the perfect costume for you." A grin tugged at his lips.
"What?" Terrified and hardly knew why.
"Your neighbor."
Todd thought—hoped to something—he'd misheard. "My what?" he asked, barely able to get the words out. Please not what he thought he'd heard, no it couldn't be, please, Pepito wouldn't actually consider it—would he?
"Your neighbor," Pepito said again as if discussing the weather. "You know, Johnny?"
His worst fears confirmed. Shmee shrieking in his ears, telling him how incredibly bad this was, that this was enough and it was time to go home and stay away from the Antichrist because if he didn't things would go terribly wrong. Head splitting in two, he reeled away from the table, away from the table, away from the horror spilling out of Pepito's mouth so calmly, tripped and hit the tile with bruising force. Pointed fingers touching his shoulder and Todd pushed them off, words mumbling out of him, no no, I can't, shut up Shmee I can't do this please ow oh shit no no no no please not this no no no nononoNONONO—
Pepito slapped him.
Todd came back to coherency in a flash, the harsh contact of flesh against flesh still ringing in the air. Looked at each other. One with quiet shock, the damage of the other in full view and more alarming than he'd ever imagined. One with shame clouding his face, feeling as if he had forced the other into witnessing something indecent. Had managed to wedge himself in the corner between two cabinets, under the curtained window, as if trying to hide from the individual more nightmare than man in his eyes. Pepito leaned above him, his right hand poised to slap him a second time, if it were necessary. Gently Todd shook his head, and the hand fell limply to the floor, twitched, rose to help him up. Todd took it without hesitation.
"Thanks," he muttered, rubbing his cheek. "I needed that."
"I . . . I am sorry, Todd," Pepito said softly. "You know I meant no harm by suggesting it."
"I know," he replied, a little sharper than he meant to. "I'll do it."
"What?" Pepito sounded alarmed. "No, you needn't, Todd. I don't wish to force you into something that has obviously left its negative mark upon your fragile human psyche. I don't wish to hurt you."
"Oh, I don't know about fragile," Todd smiled, a natural defense of manhood slipping out despite the inappropriateness. "But I do know that my doctors at the asylum told me all the time that it's better to face my fears instead of letting them . . . letting them win. And," turning pale again, busying his hands at the stove to keep them from trembling. "Scary Neigh—I mean J—Joh—J-J-" a frightened, wide-eyed glance towards Pepito, significance in every feature. "He's been a major factor in my life since . . . God, I don't even know. Ever since I moved next door though, everything seems to go from bad to worse before I get a change to notice anything's happened at all. I think I've had more nightmares about him than anything else." Had to put down the spatula and grip the tile counter, nails scratching against the grout. The trembling spreading up his arms to drape itself around his shoulders. "The sounds at night, Pepito. The things I knew he was doing, the murders on the news I knew he'd done . . . the stuff he'd leave in my room, the w-w-words—" Shuddering, fighting memories, fighting the screams caught in his throat. Pepito watched from a distance, for once at a complete loss, could do nothing but watch and wait helplessly, and how he hated being helpless for the one human he cared about.
Todd eventually calmed, and went on as if the silent breakdown had never happened. "So as long as he doesn't ever see me, we're golden. I—I need to do this, Pepito."
Pepito's face opened into a hesitant smile. "Are you sure, amigo? Are you completely sure?"
"Of course I am. Now let your mom go so we can eat."
0 0 0 0
Monday. Two days before Halloween. Recess shared with the third graders, who were too small to be of any importance and so feared to tread where the upper graders thrived. Especially near the library, where that weird kid with horns hung out with Squee. It was rumored the horned kid—Pepe or something—was the son of the devil, which was pretty scary, sure, but he was nothing to his friend. Squee was crazy, certifiably proven. He was without a doubt the most dangerous kid in the district. Biweekly visits with the school counselor? Long, unexplainable absences? Daily passes to the nurse's office to take more pills than some kids have taken in their entire lives? And what about the three cops on campus? There'd only been one until he'd come back from somewhere in fifth grade, and then there were three, and they always seemed to hang around when Squee was out and about. And it couldn't be forgotten that the kid actually liked reading.
Todd ignored the whispers. It was easy, after all. They'd been whispering for longer than he could remember. It was easier to tune them out rather than get worked up over something you couldn't change. Instead, he focused on the lined pieces of paper fluttering in the warm autumn wind in his lap, small, tightly-spaced words quickly filling the white space as he waited for Pepito to show up or not. There'd been no word from him all of Sunday, so Todd didn't know what was what for Wednesday. However, he was now so caught up in this recent story that he failed to notice the shadow that fell over him until a voice called his name sharply.
"Huh?" He asked stupidly, blinking at Pepito's shoes.
"Welcome back to Earth, amigo," the Antichrist said amiably, dropping his bag down beside Todd's.
"Argh, don't remind me." Todd groaned, throwing down his pencil.
"¿Que? Ah, es martes manaña." He nodded knowledgeably. "Will . . . will you be gone long?" A subtle note of worry in his voice that Todd only noticed because they'd been close for so long.
"Um, well I forgot who's coming tonight, but I don't think we'll be going anywhere. I'll be here for school on Wednesday, for sure."
"Good." Pepito sat down on the grass, wincing as he did so. Todd frowned.
"You okay?" he asked. The other waved his concern away.
"Yes, yes. Just a little tired. Father had much to say on my controlling Mother so. In hindsight it might not have been the wisest thing to handle her so forcefully. There was a moment there I was afraid Father wouldn't allow me this holiday, but I managed to convince him in the end."
"Is that why you didn't call me?"
"Partly. I was also practicing your costume on a few of Father's minions—with his close supervision, of course. I think I'm close. Have you chosen my costume yet?" Pride and excitement in his voice.
"Yeah. I think you'll like it." Pause as the words slipped through his writing fog. "Practicing? What do you mean?" Todd had assumed they'd do something with hair dye and scissors. The look in the other's eyes suggested something else altogether.
"What do you think? We're not doing this the old fashioned way, you know. Magic is how it's done."
"Magic?"
Pepito shrugged. "You'll see. Much easier in the long run, anyway, and far more realistic."
. . .Okay. "So your dad doesn't, um, object?" It was sometimes hard to remember that it was alright to use larger words with Pepito than he could in the classroom.
"Not at all. He actually seems to find it rather amusing."
"I don't see anything funny about it."
"You don't have Father's sense of humor."
"I think that's a good thing?"
Pepito smirked. "Of course it is. It's tiresome, being so callous about everything all the time. You remind me that there might still be some sort of good in the world."
It was Todd's turn to smile. "I thought you liked evil stuff."
He made a noncommittal noise in his throat as the bell rang to return to class. "As I said," a slight pause as he climbed to his feet, helping Todd stand as well, "evil can get awfully tiresome. What's that look on your face?"
"Nothing, nothing," Todd replied, busying himself with shoving his papers helter-skelter into his backpack.
"Hmmm." Pepito didn't look convinced, but let it go, changing the subject as they walked towards the sixth grade classrooms. "Anyway Todd, I've noticed a slight snag in my plans."
"Oh?" Todd said absently, watching out for the bigger sixth graders who always seemed to have a bone to pick with him. The entire school was practically drenched in child-friendly Halloween motif, but the path to class was miraculously bully-free today. "What's up?"
"I am able to reshape Father's minions to resemble Johnny almost exactly, as I've said. But while the body chances, I am not yet skilled enough in the art of deception to change the materials a person is wearing. If I cannot remedy this by tomorrow, it may become necessary to borrow from Johnny's wardrobe itself rather than recreate his unique style from the pictures in Father's files."
Todd stopped, felt himself growing cold. "And what does that mean?" he asked flatly, the fear building. Pepito didn't seem to notice.
"It means we must break into, enter, and steal a change of clothes—shirts, pants, gloves. Oh, and those fascinating boots of his also. He won't miss them for a night or two, and I'll make sure all of his things are returned before he gets a change to notice they've gone missing at all. When would you like to go, Todd?"
No answer. Pepito looked to his right and saw that he had vanished. "Amigo? Dondé estás?" No answer.
Todd had fainted several yards ago, and was picked up shortly after from school by his father, much to both of their ire. Pepito decided that they should go at night, to make it all the more interesting.
0 0 0 0
After Todd recovered sufficiently from his trauma-induced catatonia, the first words out of his mouth were, "I hate you." He was sprawled on his living room floor, covered in filth and blood and he didn't even want to know what else. His PTSD had kicked in with a vengeance, and now he was shivering worse than most of the epileptics he'd ever met at the asylum.
"Well, I certainly didn't mean for you and I to become separated. Father's file said he was gone, which in cases like his usually mean the dwelling is a dead cell."
"Cases like h-his? There a-a-are actually other people like him?"
"Sorry, that's classified."
"Mmrgh."
"At least we acquired the necessary items, sí"
"Yeah, and I c-could have died. So much f-f-for your st-s-stupid birthday then if your only gu-gu—damn it—guest was impaled on some torture thingy in the b-bowels of the earth!"
"Try not to bleed on the carpet. We just got it cleaned a couple weeks ago."
"Okay."
"I'll get the first-aid kit."
"Again."
"Again."
Band-Aids and rubbing alcohol passed between them for a few minutes before Todd spoke again, sulking anger still laced in his voice. "How come you're not hurt or anything?"
Pepito shrugged, casting a glare out the window to make sure Todd's parents weren't home yet. "The creepy-crawlies know better than to attack someone higher up the corporate ladder."
"Are you saying I'm beneath the 'creepy-crawlies?'" Todd couldn't help but sound upset and curiously out of character, considering he'd just been wandering blind in the Scary Neighbor Man's blood-soaked basement for the better part of six hours. He didn't think the idea of radioactive demon worms being above him as much of a confidence boost.
"Don't be silly," Pepito scoffed. "You're worlds above the things infesting Johnny's brain. They simply found you unfathomably interesting, as I do." Trickled his fingers down Todd's exposed back, making spiderweb shivers run up and down his skin.
"Oh god, stop." Todd said in a joking monotone, but broke and wriggled away, tossing the roll of gauze at Pepito's face. But the playful moment halted before it could begin in earnest as he cried out suddenly, collapsing in a fetal position as he held his bruising chest.
"¿Qué lastima?" Pepito rushed forward, concern etching itself into the muscles of his face.
"I think--" a pause to gasp painfully, "I need a doctor."
Pepito thought a moment. "That won't be a problem. There is never a shortage of correct medics in Hell. Don't worry. We'll have you up and screaming your head off in no time."
"Good."
"You're not disappointed?"
"Why—ah--would I be disappointed?"
"I thought you didn't really want to do . . . any of this."
"Well, after all the trouble we're putting ourselves through I kinda want to see how it all pans out."
Pepito opened the basement door. The temperature rose considerably. He looked at Todd half-conscious on his shoulder. "You're a strange one, Todd."
"That's not new."
0 0 0 0
Late morning, Halloween. Both had agreed not to dress during school, one for obvious reasons, the other for dignity's sake. Now however, it was time.
"I . . . I am done."
Todd shivered, the feeling of pins and needles fading from his limbs. He kept his eyes shut, too afraid to see if Pepito's efforts had paid off just yet. Lifted one hand and instantly felt the difference in a hundred different ways—the weight, the length, how the muscles reacted to his brain's commands, how the fabric of a ragged sleeve slithered across alien skins. He touched his face and flinched at the unfamiliarity of skeletal fingers tracing an angry jawline, hollow cheeks, a crooked nose, sunken eyes twitching behind stiff lids and stubby eyelashes. Slid calloused hands upward, catching in matted, uneven hair coarse and foreign to the touch. He knew the light brown and transformed to a dark and unnatural blue.
Opened his eyes, and he was Johnny.
"I only changed your appearance—and whatever else was necessary to make this as realistic as I can make it," Pepito said quickly, seeing the expression on Todd's new face reflected in the mirror. "You are still Todd Casil where it counts."
"I trust you," he replied softly, and the voice that came out was Johnny's. He twitched and looked briefly at the other, surprise in dark irises.
"Father's files are very thorough," was the explanation.
"Oh." Risked the leap of faith and moved with eyes locked on his reflection. "This is so weird."
Pepito's eyebrows rose significantly. "You're not frightened?"
"I don't plan on attacking myself, do I?" Todd joked, wriggling his arms in a way the real Johnny wouldn't have been caught dead doing. "I just don't think I'm gonna get over how . . . weird this is!"
"Yes, isn't it? Father taught me ages ago, and I've practiced wearing other faces many times, though I've never done it on somebody else before. It's always strange, at least at first."
"Yeah? Well don't count on me doing this enough to get used to it." Todd spun around in his stolen boots, a silly grin transforming a face worn down by misery and self-hatred, and the laugh lines few and far between. "Hey!" he exclaimed loudly. "I'm taller than you!" He giggled but stopped very quickly. "Whoa. That was really weird."
"Yes. It was. Try not to do that again."
"Sure thing."
Pepito looked at the clock. "It's only eleven. We still have hours before it is the best time to pursue the fun. That should be more than enough time to get you acquainted with the tools of Johnny's trade." Pause to grin ruefully. "Hopefully."
Todd stopped clapping his hands. "Oh crap."
"My sentiments exactly."
The two made their way down to the background, steering clear of Woofles doghouse where the dog sat chained and muzzled for trying to eat a human again. Pepito squinted into the sunlight as he placed the lethal accessories on the patio table. It clanked ominously against the glass surface, and Todd flinched helplessly.
"You sure we're alone?"
"Claro que sí." He untied the elastic cord but left it alone after that. "Holidays are always Father's busiest days; on Halloween he often isn't home until well into the afternoon of the next day. So many hopefuls trying to join the religion," he explained to Todd-Johnny's blank face. "And Mother is off with a group of ladies from Church. A prayer session or something." He rolled his eyes pointedly. "I can guarantee three hours of just us. Four if someone brought a casserole. There is nothing to worry about."
"If you're sure . . ."
Pepito swore, and Todd recoiled pathetically. His new face could do the kicked dog face entirely too well, which seemed to piss the Antichrist off even more. "This is honestly quit ridiculous, Todd. One moment you're more determined than I am over this and the next you're quivering in indecisive terror! Christ!" And the curse seemed appropriate coming from him. "We're not trying to make homosexual pornography to post on some idiotic teen website! We are children attempting to have a little harmless fun on an over-commercialized and completely whored-out travesty of a spiritual holiday! There is nothing wrong with this!" At this point Pepito broke down into Spanish for another minute or so, eventually realizing the slip and letting the words die in his mouth. With a heavy sigh he put a hand on Todd's elbow, as Todd-Johnny was now too tall to allow him to comfortably reach anything higher. "I don't wish to force you into doing something you're against," he said, a tired sort of shine to his eyes. "I don't wish to harm you."
"Then what do you want?" Todd asked, staring hard at Pepito. On the boy's original face the expression would have been gently exasperated, still willing to listen, but on the borrowed face of a sociopath Todd seemed a word away from a psychotic break.
"What I want is for you to make a choice and stick with it." He met Todd's half-and-half gaze unflinchingly. "I can return you to your twelve-year old prepubescent Toddness. We can stay inside with all the doors and windows locked tight. And I'll do my damnedest to make sure nothing escapes the basement again."
Todd had slipped down to his bony knees and couldn't remember when he'd done so. But he was eye-to-eye with Pepito, and could sense what came next. "Or?" he asked in a voice hardly above a whisper.
"Or we can go on with this and fall into an abyss of unexpectedness. And if we're lucky, we might have some fun along the way."
"What do you want?" Todd asked again, the question slipping out, helpless against it.
Pepito's face remained impassive. "My answer would just manipulate your final decision."
Damn it.
0 0 0 0
They went.
"So."
"Yeah?"
"Todd?"
"Yeeeees?"
"Why . . . why a bee suit?"
"Bees are scary."
"Oh. Oh yes. Your logic is undeniable."
"Isn't it?"
The pair walked down the sidewalk amid bunches of fellow children all dressed spectularly in store-bought and home-made outfits, bright and dark splashes of color against an apple cider smelling canvas of asphalt, candlelit pumpkins, and turning trees. Laughter and squealing pierced the air. Fairy princesses ran with witches as power rangers ran after Harry Potter aiming plastic weapons. Parents kept a wary eye on Todd. Sure he was with a kid—weird kid, to dress like a giant bee that looked like something only a sleep-deprived comic book artist could come up with—but a decent enough looking boy. But he sure didn't look decent. He looked like a meth head or something even worse, with his ripped black and orange clothing and the massive bags under his eyes. The two of them didn't even look related. Hell, maybe the kid wasn't even a kid. Maybe he was a midget. A decent looking midget. But there was something definitely . . . off about the thin man. Like he wasn't all that comfortable in his own skin.
"They're staring, Pepito," Todd said, glancing about uneasily. A large-necked dad gripped his ninja son by the shoulder as they passed, glaring openly.
"Let them," he replied airily. There was a certain close-mouthed smugness to his partially shadowed face.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"What do you think?"
"But--"
"Ooh!" Pepito cut him off with a dramatic gesture that was slightly less theatrical when performed with black nubs in place of claws. "This house looks promising. Here, give me your bag." Snatched the pumpkin-faced ecological disaster and ran up the walkway of a particularly gaudy house. Todd waited nervously by the imitation picket fence, twirly a small blade in his hands to keep himself busy. This did nothing to improve his image before the suburbians. At least he wasn't chewing his nails. Earlier in the evening they both had gone door-to-dooring, but after multiple disturbed stares and outright questions asking Todd what the hell he thought he was doing, they had decided it was better if Todd played the resentful big brother while Pepito played up a story about a little sister unable to join the festivities due to a broken leg. Nine times out of ten this seemed to work, though that might have just been Pepito's charm.
It worked like a charm at this house too. Pepito came back grinning, showing off four jumbo candy bars. "She was practically in tears, the dear woman," he said with a mocking limp-wristed wave of his nubs. "'Make sure Lolita has plenty of company when she eats this!'" His mimicry was impeccable, as always. Todd snorted, which was almost as bad as giggling with Johnny's vocal cords.
"Lolita?" he asked incredulously. Pepito laughed as they moved on.
"The woman asked her what my sister's name was."
"But Lolita!" Laughing loudly now, scaring the parents into crossing the street.
"I know, I know. I panicked."
"Uh-huh."
"Don't be sarcastic with me. It doesn't suit you."
Todd flipped the knife near-expertly before slipping it back into a pocket. "Yeah, but I'm not really supposed to be me tonight, right?"
"True," the other agreed easily. "You're doing well under the circumstances."
"So are you."
Pepito puffed out his chest, thought it was hard to tell under the suit. "My dignity has suffered worse," he said stiffly. Todd-Johnny grinned at him, easily baring an unnatural amount of teeth.
"Ooh, I'd kill to have been there to see what could possible be worse than this."
"My my, kill would you?"
Todd froze, hearing a harmless joke reflected back dripping with a malicious hope of manipulation. "I didn't mean that," he said, fearing the worst from his unpredictable friend. "You know I'd never—I was just kidding—Stop looking at me like that."
It was a little surreal how Pepito managed to still look terrifying in a ridiculous bee suit. For an instant it seemed as if they were the only ones on the whole street left, but Todd wasn't afrad—at least, not any more than he usually was. He tightened his jaw and blinked and the curious sensation was gone in a flash.
"I know you didn't, amigo. But it would have convinced a stranger, I think." Pepito winked, slapping him on the arm. "Let's go."
After that, the night went fairly smooth. Sure, there were a few incidents, always were where Todd was concerned, but nothing life threatening. A few teens, a few drunks, a few literally haunted houses. And Todd even fended off a mugger, much to his own alarm. He would have apologized, but the man had run off before he'd had a chance to.
"Come on, you know tonight was fun."
"I'm amazed we survived." Todd shut the front door behind him, collapsing against it. The bag dropped beside his foot was almost overflowing with candy.
"And why wouldn't we? We didn't run into a single cult, after all." Pepito popped the head off his costume, inhaling blissfully at the rush of cool air against his sweaty skin. "And don't you dare act like you didn't have the time of your life."
"Well, teepeeing that old folk's home was kind of fun . . ." he agreed reluctantly. "But can you change me back now?"
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So yeah. I was going to whip up one last scene with Pepito eating the razor out of an apple like some people can unwrap Starbursts with only their tongues, but then I realized it's seven AM. This is bad. I'll run through it some other time and wring out the typos. Maybe I'll add that scene. But this is all that's going into the PepSquee Halloween contest on dev. Oh, if you're wondering about what happened in Nny's house, one day I might finish I fic called Trespass, and that'll be it. I cut out like four scenes to make it this small.
Pepito-the-Bee was my friend Incothe's idea. I would've been screwed without her help, I swear. I also murdered the Spanish language, in case you didn't notice.
I regret doing this.