"You know what I think is funny?"
"Oh God—" I buried my face in her neck and closed my eyes.
She giggled. "That everyone thinks you're such a badass, and you can't even watch Friday the 13th on Halloween without crying."
"I am not crying," I said indignantly, tensing at the screams of Jason's third (fourth? seventh?) victim of the night. "I just don't like the scary parts. Tell me when the kids are making out again, I can watch that part."
She laughed again and nuzzled the top of my head.
"What are you girls doing?" Brittany's mom came around the corner from the kitchen, holding the half-full trick or treat bowl.
"Watching a scary movie," Brittany said without looking up. "Well, I'm watching it. Santana's hiding."
"That better be off when your little sister gets home."
"Yes please," I muttered.
"San, it's not even that scary. It's like… super 80s."
"Doesn't change the fact I won't be able to walk home in the dark for a week."
"Does that mean you're sleeping here for a week?" Mrs. Pierce joked.
Brittany squeezed my thigh out of her mom's view. I smiled into her neck. "Mmm… maybe?" I said.
"You know, if you girls are staying up anyway, you might as well be on trick or treat duty," Mrs. Pierce said. "I'm going to bed."
"G'night Mom," Brittany said absently, eyes glued to the TV. I winced at the sound of a machete being buried in someone's neck. Mrs. Pierce noticed and smiled kindly at me.
"Good night, girls." She draped a soft blanket over us, and I was grateful for the extra thing to hide my face in.
After several moments of rapt attention to the TV, Brittany said, "You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you secretly like watching scary movies with me."
"Really."
"Mhm. I think you like being scared."
"Well, you're wrong. I hate being scared. But I do like…" I danced my fingers up her thigh and, after a quick glance where her mother had disappeared down the hall, kissed the underside of her jaw. Her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open a little.
The beastly and hockey-masked villain leapt through a window on screen and I shrieked. Just a little bit. It wasn't loud, and wasn't even really a shriek. It just—it's that stupid surprise tactic horror films use, caught me off guard.
Brittany tilted her head and kissed the tip of my nose. "You're really adorable when you're scared," she grinned.
The doorbell rang and I jumped again, but managed to swallow the scream. Brittany laughed and pushed herself off the couch.
"Don't leave me!" I grabbed her hand.
"San, I'm just going to the door. You can see me from here."
"Please, B?"
She pulled me to my feet, wrapped me in the blanket, and slid her arm around my waist and we brought the bowl of candy to the door.
"Trick or treat!" a little girl dressed as a dark-haired Alice in Wonderland held out a Cheshire Cat candy bucket. Nice touch. Next to her was a not-so-little boy.
"What the hell, Puck." I said, HBIC attitude kicking in on autopilot upon recognizing him. "Creep much? I thought you were going to Karofsky's."
"I have to take my little sister trick or treating first," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. "I didn't think you'd… I figured it'd be your mom doing the whole candy thing," he said to Brittany. "What are you two doing here? Aren't you going to the party?"
"Maybe later," I said dismissively, knowing full well that after this movie I'd be unable to leave the house in the dark.
"Got something better going on?" he smirked, eyeing my bare legs through a slit in the blanket. "Can I join?"
"Back off, perv, I'm still in my uniform," I opened the blanket to show him my Cheerios attire. "God, you're such a horndog."
"Can we go now or am I getting more candy?" his sister asked.
"No more candy," I said. "Get lost."
"Bitch," the little girl muttered.
"What is she, like, eight?" I couldn't help but feel a little bit shocked. Oddly proud, but still shocked.
"She's a good judge of character," Puck called over his shoulder.
"Bye, Puck," Brittany waved, closing the door.
"See you at Karofsky's?" he said.
I slammed the door.
"Are we going to the party?" Brittany asked.
I pulled her into the kitchen. "I sort of had other ideas," I said, wrapping the blanket around both of us. "And none of them involve being around a mob of inebriated jocks."
"What?"
"It means drunk."
"No, I know that—what are your plans?"
"Can't you guess?" I smirked teasingly, running my fingers across her collarbone and kissing her lightly. She smiled against my lips. After a moment I pulled away. "Wait a second."
She frowned. "Do you want to finish the movie first?"
"Ew. No. It's just—how can a girl who thinks a duet is a blanket know what inebriated means?"
"Please, San, that's such an easy mistake to make," she said softly as she leaned closer and captured my lips again. "And we have to wait a little longer for all the trick or treaters to finish, otherwise my mom will get mad and she'll come upstairs to yell at us and I don't think she's ready for that talk."
"I can be so quiet," I whined, licking a line up her neck and gently tugging on her earlobe.
She shivered but managed a breathy laugh. "No you can't." She pulled me back to the couch. "Come on. The movie's almost over."
"Then can we watch something else? Like… Finding Nemo?"
"No, S, it's Halloween. You have to watch scary movies on Halloween."
"But Nemo's orange and black. Those are Halloween colors."
"Nemo's orange and white."
I sighed and closed my eyes tight again. "You're no fun."
"I'm lots of fun," she said. "Here, I'll show you."
I bit my lip to keep from gasping.