You're not sure exactly how you feel right now.
A small, partially muffled giggle alerts you to somebody watching you, patiently waiting in the doorway of your bathroom. Marco's clad in the shittiest wizard costume he could find and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't the cutest thing you've ever seen. But the beard was slightly overdoing it.
"Take the beard off," you grunt, flicking a finger towards him. "It's throwing off my mojo."
And he has the absolute audacity to reply with, "what mojo?"
You manage to reach him in two large strides and you decide to pick him up and throw him over your shoulder. He doesn't resist, of course. Marco seems to know you haven't thought ahead.
You've got nothing.
"My point is," Marco pipes up, slipping out of your grasp and instead opting to stand in front of you (he's finally taken the beard off, thank god). "If you don't have any mojo, I don't have any challengers, do I, King Arthur?"
You grunt loudly and turn on your heels. It's his fault you're covered in shitty Plastimake armour with a cheap foam sword dangling off a belt hung loose on your hips. Marco had insisted (more like forced) you to go trick-or-treating with him, and every time you tried to remind him that 'we're a little too old for this, Marco, don't ya think', you earned yourself a hearty kick in the shins.
Lesson learnt: do not fuck with Marco on Halloween.
"Honestly, Jean, hurry up. You're taking forever to style your wig. You don't even need a wig!" Marco's impatient, and he's tired of waiting for you, but you insist that 'at least one of us needs to look good', and instead of earning yourself another lovely kick to the shin, he walks around you and wraps him arms around your waist. You don't understand.
But it slowly dawns on you when he tightens his arms that he's taken another approach to your slacking. Marco's going to crush you to death.
"Marco, you're fucking insane," you wheeze out, and it's followed by a little laugh, which Marco copies.
"No, you'll see insane if you don't hurry up. You've got five minutes of else I'm coming back in. With the beard on." He throws you a wink and a smirk because you might not have any mojo, but Marco does, and you're kinda jealous.
Once Marco leaves, you turn to look in the mirror. You look nothing like King Arthur, but Marco looks nothing like Merlin either, so it doesn't really matter. You rake a comb through your wig again, just to make sure the hairspray is set. You're finally ready.
And then it dawns on you.
You look like shit.
Walking out of the bathroom, you see Marco lying on the bed, legs crossed and reading Cosmopolitan. You cringe.
He seems the feel the vibe of your disgust because he looks up and grins, throwing you the magazine and telling you to look. You think you've just witnessed Marco throwing away his innocence because you're currently looking at a page which, in big, bright pink letters says, "How to put an extra inch on your boyfriend's penis." Looking up to stare at Marco, you find he's already staring at you, waggling his eyebrows, and god fucking damnit, he has the beard on again.
"Shut up," you hiss, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. "There's nothing wrong with...it."
"Mm, yes, but," Marco waves his finger in front of your face, and your eyes narrow. "It's a win-win scenario. You shut up though, because if we don't leave now, all the kids are gonna get there first and take the candy."
You perk up at that, because fuck if you're going to let some snot-nosed brats take your candy. Grabbing Marco by the wrist this time, you throw the book onto the bed and tug him out the door, remembering just in time to turn the lights off retrieve the keys.
Marco laughs as you drag him down the street, and you turn your head just in time to catch a glimpse of the pure childish glee in his eyes. Your heart practically melts, and shit, you're becoming too sappy. What's he doing to you?
You both return home with a wizard hat full of various candy and Marco dumps the whole load onto the bed. Wearing a grin, you both share proud glances with each other. Fuck Yeah is the unspoken aura around you two, and you feel a vicious satisfaction at the fact that there's more for you and less for the actual children.
"Jean, that's so mean," Marco laughs, and you realise you've spoken out loud, but you don't care. You really only care for one thing now, and it's not the candy.
"Take the beard off, Marco. It's making it surprisingly difficult to get a boner with you looking like a suspicious old man."
He giggles at that, but he understands. Marco pushes the candy lazily aside, stretches across the bed, and takes the beard off. You barely register where he threw it because you're already on him, and your lips connect like they were never apart in the first place.
Yoo. I wrote this at two in the morning, it sucks, and I'm pretty sure I swapped tenses halfway through. I do want to write a sort of sequel to this where Jean gets what he wants, but who knows.