Mini has been eagerly awaiting this chance since they moved into their own house, Franky thinks. She's not sure why she's waited for one of the kids to ask, she started throwing an annual Christmas party the same year they moved, but something has stopped her from throwing a Halloween party until Elsie asked for one.
She must have started decorating as soon as everyone left the house. From the street, it looks almost like Franky is coming home to a different house. It's completely decked out, fake cobwebs stretched over everything they possibly could be, the curtains have all been replaced by black tattered cloth, there's jack o'lanterns scattered about the yard, and white taper candles in tarnished silver candlesticks set on each windowsill, stark contrast against the black, and the fall foliage wreath on the front door has been replaced by one of black flowers.
The foyer is no less decorated, and Franky knows if the rest of the house doesn't match yet, it soon will. She only hopes getting there won't involve lack of sleep or missed meals. It's not an issue as often as Franky worries about it, but sometimes it is still an issue, and Franky tends to think what keeps it down to sometimes is the fact that she worries about it. Typically, they decorate as a family, over the first week in October, but none of them have the enthusiasm for it that Mini does, so it's not so surprising that she's chosen to do it mostly on her own this year. The children have parts of each holiday that they've chosen to take as their own. Mini likes to moan and groan about how it's her cross to bear, none of her children have inherited her enjoyment in going all out for things like this, but she isn't serious. They've predicted Elsie will grow into the same habit when she's older. Right now it requires to pay attention for longer than she can, and Kenzie and Peter just aren't as enthusiastic about the holidays at all.
(It's not about the holidays, Mini told her once, after a few glasses of her fancy wine. Yeah, she loves the planning and the effect and watching it come together, but she feels that way about decorating the house normally too. She isn't actually obsessed with Halloween or Christmas or Valentine's - well, maybe a little. She just wants - everything, and she wants the kids to want for nothing. She wants this to be what all of their memories include, their parents going all out, always surrounded by care to detail, always celebrating. Happy Holidays. And also she can't stop herself from going out always, that too. It's nothing Franky didn't already know.)
Franky finds her in the kitchen, washing the halloween dishes, plates and bowls printed with skeletons, goblets with skeleton hands already grasping the stems. They used to creep the children out, make them giggle. Now they say that it's silly, and Mini replies that's the point, neither of them serious.
Franky steps up behind her, leaning into her back, pressing a kiss between her shoulders. It has replaced their hellos, now, and their goodbyes and good mornings and goodnights. Always, now, their greetings and farewells is a kiss.
"I told you you had to leave now, my fiance will be home soon."
"Ha ha ha."
Mini dries her hands, turns, grinning, and properly kisses Franky welcome home. "I just like fitting fiance into every sentence."
"I like that too." She rises up on her tiptoes, taking another kiss. "Did you eat today?"
Mini smiles, all soft, brushes Franky's hair back. It took awhile, for questions like that not to bother her, she'd anticipate them whenever she took on a project, though, and they helped, even if half the reason she wasn't skipping a meal was because she didn't want to see that look on Franky's face. A win is a win. But the - shame it brought on has faded at least on the good days (which outnumber the bad days by so much now), and it was always tempered by how nice it felt that Franky worried about her. "I did, breakfast and lunch."
"And dinner?"
"You know I don't like eating dinner til you get home."
"The kids?"
"Already ate. Working on homework, now. Supposedly. It's been very quiet."
"That's scary."
"I think they're afraid if they come out, they'll end up decorated for Halloween."
Franky laughed, "Elsie is going to love all this."
"I hope so. I called your dad, he said he'd make snacks for the party, just little things since they'll be getting candy."
"So did any of the other mums agree to handle the trick or treating?"
"Mostly they thought it was silly that a bunch of fourteen year old girls would need supervising." Mini rolled her eyes, "But Roxie's mum agreed with me, and she said she'd do it."
"Good."
"Very good, know why?"
"Why?"
"Elsie agreed that Kenzie could go with them, and Peter wants to go help your dads hand out candy, so we will have an empty house for a little bit."
"That is very good."
Mini grinned. "Dinner?"
"Mmhmm."
The party is a smashing success. The girls love it, they're giggling the entire time, from the appropriately decorated snacks to the ghost stories to game time. (When Elsie was little and Halloween scared her, they played a game where they'd 'decorate the decorations,' the winner being whoever made their scary thing look the funniest. They still do it, even though their youngest is now eight, just because. The only difference is the ways the kids make the decorations look silly. Despite Mini's (private) concerns, everyone loved it.
But the highlight of the evening, for both kids and adults alike, is when the girls go out with other parents to trick or treat. Mini disappears upstairs the second the last child is out the door, Franky flips the porchlight off, locks the front door, and heads into the kitchen to wait.
They developed this tradition - when they moved into this house, Franky thinks. It was Mini's idea, of course. It had been a long day, Elsie was only four then and she'd thrown fit after fit and Mini wasn't feeling well either, just over the morning sickness and vertigo and exhaustion of the first few months of pregnancy. She had already been ready for bed when Franky went to shower, but when Franky came out - well, she was still ready for bed, but in an entirely different fashion. She had one of those cliche 'sexy' costumes, taken to an extreme the way only Mini can and she smirked at Franky and said, "Still tired?"
Yeah, Franky remembers it well.
It's happened every year since. Franky's not so creative, not when it comes to sex at least, she doesn't need - or even really want - all those extra bells and whistles.
But. There is something she likes about this Halloween thing. She'd have enjoyed it no matter what because Mini, she'll never not enjoy finding Mini in their bed scantily clad - but this is different. Mini goes out, buys this costume, builds on it, does make up to match and everything, spends probably the whole month working on it - just for Franky to see her in it, for one night. Just because she's still a little worried Franky might get bored. She appreciates the effort. She appreciates that she is so important to Mini, that Mini goes - would go - to such lengths to make her happy. She appreciates even more that no one else sees Mini like this, no one else knows she still dresses up. She appreciates the moments when it is tangible that Mini is hers.
And tonight, they don't have to wait for the kids to fall asleep.
Franky busies herself while she's waiting, wrapping up the leftovers and tidying up. She's listening for Mini's footsteps coming back down the stairs, heart sped up in her chest, but Mini still manages to sneak up on her. Franky turns around and she's there, leaning against the range, wearing the edited, Mini version of a 'sexy Queen of Hearts' costume. She always has to make them a little more epic - a little more original. She's skipped the collar, no surprise, and she's clearly wearing something with a little more structure underneath, that flimsy costume could not achieve that shaping, and she's added a suspender belt, purely for effect Franky knows, cause the hooks are dangling, unattached to the card suit patterned thigh highs. Franky loves thigh highs. She's smirking at Franky, twirling a thin scepter between her fingers.
Franky grins, "What an appropriate costume."
Mini laughs, reaching out and hooking her fingers in Franky's belt loops, tugging her close. "You aren't supposed to be talking anymore," she chides, and kisses her.
If she's honest, kissing is Franky's favourite thing. She gets so lost in it, whether it's little soft smooches or making out, in the total softness of Mini, the press of her lips, the feel of Mini's fingers in her hair, the way she giggles when Franky touches her. The way it's never the same but it's always comfortable, the way it's never boring, the way it's gotten instinctual, the exact right amount of give and take for each of them at the time.
Right now, Franky wants to take, take, take. They haven't had time to themselves in… a whole. Franky presses Mini back, biting at her lower lip, and Mini makes a noise that might be ow-
Franky pulls back a little, catches her breath for a minute. Mini's eyes are dark, dark blue."Let's go upstairs," Franky suggests.
Mini shakes her head, eyes twinkling, "No, right here."
"Wouldn't you be more comfortable?"
"Are you calling me a pillow queen? I'm as comfortable as I want to be. We never get the rest of the house to ourselves." Mini tugs Franky flush against her again, whispers in her ear, "I want you to fuck me right here."
"Okay," Franky whispers back, pressing back into Mini, slipping her hand up under Mini's bad excuse for a skirt.
"Mini-" Franky pauses, grins, "not wearing any knickers, that's pretty filthy for a mum."
"Franky. I've been waiting all day. Shut up and fuck me."
"If that's what her Majesty wants," Franky smirks, slipping her fingers into an already wet and ready Mini - she'd been waiting all day, she said, and it isn't hard to believe from how slick she is. The thought of Mini going around all day like this, no knickers and wet to the touch - the thought of Mini spending all day going about like normal but thinking of this - the thought that, like the cliche claims, it still does feel like the first fucking time, the thought that Mini still wants her this much, this many years later! It makes Franky's breath catch in her throat.
(The thought, too, that Franky still wants Mini this much… she hasn't gotten bored, she hasn't run, she hasn't fucked things up. It's not really news anymore, she does feel secure in this at least most of the time, but the reminder - she's not broken - is still… lovely. She isn't even scared to marry this woman. It's actually a calming thought. It makes Franky feel like she's got liquid security running through her veins.
And that makes Franky want to take her time. Torture Mini a little bit, maybe. Savor the moment, fucking her almost wife in their kitchen, in their home, so she slides her fingers in and out and against Mini in slow, steady strokes, until Mini grows impatient (never takes long) and reaches down, grips Franky's wrist and makes her move her hand harder.
"Franky," she groans, in that half commanding, half begging tone Franky adores. Franky chuckles, starts fucking her in earnest. If this didn't have to be a quickie -
Ah, well, there's always tonight. Franky shifts a little, in an attempt to ease the ache between her own legs. Mini notices, and tugs Franky even closer, somehow, pressing her leg between Franky's, her thigh against Franky's cunt, making Franky gasp and lose her rhythm for a minute. She gets it back, though, after a minute, increases the speed a bit because if Mini is thinking about her, obviously Franky isn't fucking her hard enough. Mini will get her turn to do the fucking later.
Mini moans, digging her nails harder into Franky's hips, letting her head drop back. Franky needs this to be over now, Mini's hips are bucking helpless against Franky and her thigh is rubbing the most delicious way, Franky is about to lose it, and Franky does not want to lose it til Mini's lost it. Mini bites her lip, drawing blood, and makes this strangled sort of screaming noise, every muscle in her body tightening around Franky, still moving, albeit more jerkily, for a minute, until finally she slumps and Franky groans, "Don't-"
Mini gets it, and it takes her a matter of seconds to undo Franky's trousers and slip her hand inside, and it takes her one, two, three strokes against Franky's clit before Franky just about collapses against her.
When the children get home, with their overfull bags of candy, they find their parents snuggled up on the couch, sharing some salted caramel popcorn, a black and white movie on the tv.
(No one notices that there are odd bits of the kitchen cleaner than when they left.)