Author Note: Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

Ochobre

Dorian observed himself in the mirror, wincing slightly at his appearance. This whole thing had started out like a good idea, and now...he just wasn't sure. He tugged at the dark bandana uncertainly, and at the red tank top covering his chest plate. His black pants were buckled carefully onto his waist, and as baggy as they were, they weren't the most embarrassing sight. It was his hair, twisted and yanked into what were called "corn rows". Rudy had been kind enough to come by and do it for him, raving on about how this was the perfect look for an alter ego. Dorian hadn't even realized his hair was long enough for it to be done.

From the hallway, John stopped himself from walking past the bathroom and smiled brightly. "Hey, you look great!" He fiddled with the cloth bracelets on his wrists.

"Speak for yourself," Dorian tried to compliment. He eyed his partner skeptically. "Then again, the both of us look like delinquents - I was beginning to wonder why you hadn't shaved in almost a week."

John smirked, messing up his already messy hair. That had been growing out, too, and now it was styled into a rebellious fly-away, falling occasionally into his eyes. John's outfit was relatively simple: all black, with a tank top and cut-off jacket, and rediculous knee-high boots. His pants were cargos, with a belt wrapped through the loops. On his hip sat a futuristic toy gun, which he seemed to cherish almost as much as the real one.

"Come on," John almost begged, "Halloween is the best, man! It's the one time everyone gets to look stupid, have tons of junk food, and no one cares. Besides," he wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist, "you do look great. Better than great."

Dorian eased into his embrace. "You eat junk food all the time; how is today any different?"

John looked indignant. "The Asian culture has produced some of the finest cuisines."

Dorian rolled his eyes. His lips brushed against John's, and after a beat he fully closed the space between them. He trailed along John's neck, recognizing the scent of cologne. Dorian had long since memorized it; his system didn't even need pull up the data file for it anymore. "John..." He whispered.

John smiled hazily, pulling away. "At this rate, we won't make it to the precinct."

"...We don't have to." Dorian pulled him closer, using the same words he used every time when he wanted to get his way. "We can get out of these ridiculous clothes -"

"Hey, I paid for these ridiculous clothes," John chided with a raised brow. "We're going to wear them, we're going to have one relaxed night at that damned building, and then we can get out of them. You're the one who wants us to be more social, aren't you?"

Dorian turned to face the mirror, and found a stranger looking back. He wan't really comfortable in this skin, but it was only temporary. If it was going to please John - the grumpiest, finicky, most important person in his life - then he would do it.

"Okay, you win, John."

The satisfaction plastered onto John's face all the way to the station was worth it.

Costumes:

John = Karl Urban in The Privateers.

Dorian = Michael Ealy in Barbershop.

I went way back in time to find these ones. Both are ridiculous, but both are just so dang adorable!