I slammed my lunch tray onto the table, collapsing in the seat next to Scott. The boys had finally gotten used to my presence in the cafeteria. Ever since the breakup, Allison had returned to sitting with Lydia and I during lunch. However, as I reminded everyone repeatedly that I refused to take sides, I'd taken to switching tables every other day. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were booked by Lydia, who demanded that if I was going to be dividing my time she had to receive the majority of it. I had gently pointed out that she already had the majority of my time, seeing as I was living with her, but she had insisted nonetheless. That meant that I only had Tuesdays and Thursdays to spend with Stiles and Scott. Well, besides the time we spent together in class and outside of school. Unfortunately, we had all reluctantly agreed to cut back out our out-of-school escapades for a bit, mostly so my mother wouldn't freak out about me spending so much time out of the house with a killer on the loose and detain me if there was an emergency. Regardless, the time I did spend with the boys continued to be enjoyable.
While they'd acclimated to my new lunch schedule, both boys still jumped at the surprising force of my lunch tray slapping the table. They shared a surprised look, eying my wide grin nervously.
"Uh, hey Sadie," Scott greeted.
"Hey!" I replied, fixing my skirt under myself before digging into my lunch. Scott seemed to shrug my vigor off, returning to his meal. There was a hesitant silence as Stiles watched me from the other side of the table.
"Okay," he broke after a few seconds. "Why are you so smiley?"
"What do you mean?" I asked through a mouth of chicken, raising my eyebrow.
"I mean you're all like…perky," he replied, his nose scrunching up slightly. "And frankly it's starting to freak me out."
"What? Just because you're an angst fest doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be happy," I shot. Stiles huffed.
"I am not an angst fest," he defended. "I'm just a little tired from all of the research I have been doing by myself, because apparently, I am the only person taking this whole search for a cure thing seriously!"
"I've done plenty of research," I replied haughtily. "And we've already got a pretty big clue from Derek."
"Can you not talk about your werewolf boyfriend for like two seconds?" Stiles snarled. He was continually testy about the subject of Derek Hale. I rolled my eyes.
"Please, I haven't heard from Derek at all," I assured him. "If anyone's dating him, it's Scott. He's the only one Derek will talk to anyway." Scott snorted, but didn't reply. At this point, he knew better than to step into the middle of one of our quip-offs.
"Thank God," Stiles groaned. "The last thing I need is that weirdo showing up unannounced, in the middle of the night, creeping outside my window or something."
"Are you sure?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You sound kind of jealous. You're not harboring a fetish for brooding werewolves are you?"
"No, Sadie," he growled. "I am not harboring any sort of fetish involving any sort of werewolf, thank you very much." I smirked at him over the top of my water bottle.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much." I winked, causing Scott to laugh and Stiles to groan.
"Why are we even friends? God, you're exhausting."
"Well, you better perk up, bucko," I replied, shifting in my chair. "Can't be tired this weekend." Stiles seemed to relax slightly when he realized just what I was referring too, even going so far as to grin slightly. Scott looked up, glancing between the two of us.
"Did I miss something?" he asked with a smirk. "What's this weekend?" Stiles and I both turned to look at him, astonished.
"Do you listen at all when I talk, Scott?" I asked. Scott chuckled sheepishly, shrugging.
"It's Halloween, dumbass," Stiles reminded him, looking like he was restraining himself from throwing something at him.
"Oh, right," Scott nodded in realization. I chose to ignore his lack of enthusiasm, beaming.
"Do you guys know how long I've waited for Halloween to be on a weekend?" I gushed.
"Like four or five years?" Stiles quipped. "That's generally the way years work, you know, rotating days." I glared at him momentarily, before wiping my face of anger, taking a deep breath and holding up my hands.
"I'm not gonna let you ruin this for me, Stiles," I said firmly. "This is my favorite day of the year, and I am not going to let your pissy attitude ruin it."
"Excuse you, I'm a joy to be around," he shot, rolling his eyes. I ignored him.
"So, Lydia's having a Halloween party, unsurprisingly. Obviously she invited Allison, but after hours of begging, I finally convinced her to let me invite you guys too. So you're coming."
"Sure," Scott chirped, perking up slightly. I knew that he didn't really feel like partying, but I'd been counting on his eagerness to see Allison to convince him to come.
"Uh, no," Stiles replied with a smug smile, leaning back in his chair. "Scott and I will not be in attendance."
"Dude," Scott snapped, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I hadn't counted on needing to convince Stiles to come to a party hosted by Lydia Martin.
"What?" he defended sharply. "We've got plans, dude!"
"What plans?" I asked. Stiles crossed his arm over his chest, fixing me with a steady gaze.
"Scott and I have Halloween traditions that must be upheld," he replied, formally and firmly.
"Traditions like what?" I pressed.
"Traditions like trick or treating!" he snapped, his head jutting forward a few inches.
"Oh!" I piped, and Scott groaned.
"Dude, we're in the tenth grade!"
"Don't pull the age card on me!" Stiles retorted. "We made a resolution to do it every year until we go to college! It's our thing!"
"We made that promise ages ago, Stiles," Scott commented, but I waved him off.
"No, no, I think that's awesome!" Both boys froze, turning to look at me in shock.
"You think that's awesome?" Scott repeated, his eyebrows disappearing under the fringe of his hair. I nodded, making Stiles laugh.
"Ha! See? Sadie thinks that's awesome."
"But it's not a viable excuse," I added, causing the grin to slide off his face. "Let's just do both!"
"Let's? Let us? Us? No!" Stiles replied, looking indignant. "It's a guy thing! You're not invited!" I pursed my lips, folding my arms on the table and turning to look expectantly at Scott. He smirked.
"Hey, Sadie. You wanna come trick or treating with Stiles and me?"
"Why thank you, Scott!" I chirped in a high voice. "As a passionate supporter of all Halloween traditions, I would love to accompany you and Stiles trick or treating!" I beamed at Stiles, who looked very similar to a toddler whose favorite stuffed animal had just been confiscated.
"You both suck," he grumbled, stabbing a fork through one of his tater tots. I chuckled.
"So, what are you guys gonna be?" I inquired. Stiles instantly dropped his grumpy mood.
"A werewolf," he answered smugly. Scott rolled his eyes.
"Irony," I smirked, point at him with my fork. "I like it." Stiles gave an over-exaggerated shrug, waving off my praise, and I giggled. "What about you, Scott?"
"Uh, I don't know," he confessed. "I might just wear my lacrosse uniform."
"Uh, no," I said firmly, scrunching up my face in disgust. "You already wear that all the time. That's not a costume."
"Um…can I wear it and pretend it's a football uniform?"
"Still no," I snapped.
"Why do you care so much what we're doing?" Stiles asked curiously.
"Because," I explained firmly, "I take extreme pride in costume art of all kinds, and I'm not gonna be seen walking around with two boys in half-assed cop-out costumes! Come on! You're two teenage boys who went hunting in the woods for a body!"
"Half a body, actually," Stiles corrected me. I brandished a finger at him.
"Exactly! Where is your love for the scary, creepy and supernatural?!"
"Sadie," Scott half laughed, glancing around. "I'm a werewolf. I've pretty much had my fill of the scary, creepy and supernatural."
"And the life threatening!" Stiles added frantically. "Don't forget about the threatening of our lives!"
"And nobody else knows that," I pointed out. "So you're going to be a normal, weirdo teenage boy and let me put together a super awesome monster costume." Scott sighed with a smile, giving in.
"Just not a werewolf, okay?" he pleaded, and I grinned victoriously.
"Of course not," I assured him. "Stiles already called werewolf, and there are no repeats allowed."
"Of course not," Scott repeated, chuckling at my enthusiasm.
"Why do you have so many rules?" Stiles complained, though it was fairly obvious he wasn't the slightest bit annoyed.
"I take Halloween very, very seriously," I explained evenly. "Like, very seriously."
However, despite all of my ranting and raving about my favorite holiday that week, the boys still seemed to be surprised on Saturday when they got to experience just how serious I was.
I picked the boys up bright and early at nine thirty, much to the surprise and amusement of Mrs. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, and the absolute horror of Scott and Stiles. I had convinced them to meet at my house, so I didn't have to lug my supplies around town, but I had neglected to mention just how early I was picking them up. I was forced to coax them out of their beds by bribing them with breakfast. My mom was cooking at home, and the previous night I'd stocked the van with a basket of pumpkin muffins, sprinkled with candy corn on top. Scott had come along quietly, stuffing half a muffin in his mouth before he fell asleep once more in the back seat. Stiles had a little more fight in him. The sheriff had to help me literally drag him to the car, where he continued to mutter violent death threats under his breath all the way to my house.
Thankfully, my mother's cooking was able to shut him up some. She'd laid out a wonderful spread of scrambled eggs, deviled eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, some more muffins, pumpkin pancakes, and a box of Count Chocula breakfast cereal waiting as per my request. Stiles was practically salivating as he sprang at the table, sampling as much as he could. Scott collapsed next to him, resting his head in his arms.
"Oh you poor boys," she laughed, patting Scott on the back. "Was it really necessary to get them up this early?"
"Certainly," I replied, pulling the plate of sausage and bacon away from Stiles and taking a large portion before he could suck it up like some sort of human vacuum cleaner. "I might be able to finish off Scott in under an hour, but Stiles's makeup is definitely gonna take more than that."
"Makeup?!" Stiles demanded, small crumbs flying from his mouth as he tried to yell at me through a mouth of pancake. I glared at him, ignoring the outburst.
"And my makeup is definitely going to take over an hour, which I obviously have to do last."
"What are you being?" Scott mumbled into his arms. I smirked.
"Well, since Stiles threatened to chop my head off about five minutes ago, you don't get to know. It's a surprise." Stiles rolled his eyes and my mother winced.
"Can the decapitation wait until later?" she asked, taking a seat beside me, across from Scott. "I'd prefer not to get blood all over Ellie's house, and I don't want all this food to go to waste."
"Sure thing, Mrs. Bennet," Stiles nodded. "There will be no wasting of food on this side of the table." He served himself another scoop of scrambled eggs and two more pancakes to punctuate his point.
"Thanks a lot, Mrs. Bennet," Scott grinned tiredly, lifting his head and pulling the platter of bacon closer.
"Any time boys," she assured them. "You're gonna need your strength for today. Sadie is a vicious whirlwind of energy on Halloween."
"Really?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows. "I hadn't noticed." I kicked him in the shin under the table, causing him to wince, but still smirk proudly.
"The house looks really nice," Scott commented politely, looking around at the orange and black garlands I'd hung around the top of every wall. There were decorative pumpkins stuffed with herbs and plastic bones on several different surfaces, along with bowls of assorted candies, vases of black roses or dead flowers, and cutouts I'd hung along the walls.
"Thank you!" I chirped brightly. My mother rolled her eyes.
"It's been like this all week," she complained in a monotone voice. I glared playfully at her, not so easily brought down.
"There's loads of jack-o-lanterns in the front and back yards too, and I made headstones for fake graves, and there are spider webs on all the bushes. Unfortunately," I paused as my mother shuddered, "I'm not allowed to put up fake spiders. They skeeve mom out."
"I don't need a hundred and one plastic spiders lying in corners around the house after you clean all of this up," she nagged. "That is the truly frightening part of Halloween."
The light chatter continued for the rest of breakfast. Miss Eleanor popped down at some point to grab some food and say hi to the boys. She actually took a plate upstairs for Lydia, who dare not venture downstairs. It seemed Halloween was the one day of the year Lydia would be hiding from my enthusiasm, instead of vice versa.
It took a while, but eventually the bottomless pits that were Stiles and Scott's stomachs seemed to be sated. At least, Scott had stopped eating, and Stiles was slowing down.
"Okay," I announced, standing up from the table. "Time to get this show on the road. Scott, you first."
"Do I really have to go first?" he asked reluctantly.
"Yes," I replied firmly. "Your makeup's gonna be a lot easier than Stiles's is, and he's still stuffing his face."
"Hey!" the pale boy shouted indignantly. I rolled my eyes.
"Shut up and eat your breakfast. There are some Halloween movies in the living room. Mom can set that up or you just pass out on the couch or whatever. Come on, Scott." The floppy haired boy rose grudgingly from his chair, and Stiles's eyes popped wide open.
"W-Wait you're just leaving me down here by myself?!" he hissed. "What am I supposed to do?! What if Lydia comes downstairs?!"
"She won't," I assured him. "She's hiding from me."
"Yeah, but what if she does?!"
"I don't know, Stiles," I sighed, grabbing Scott's arm and dragging him toward the stairs. "Play dead!" Stiles was not exceptionally impressed by that answer but let it be, and Scott chuckled slightly as we jogged up the stairs to my room.
"There a reason we're abandoning him downstairs?" he asked curiously.
"Because he's your best friend," I explained. "He can be funny, but he doesn't shut up. I need you to be completely still while I do your makeup, which means minimal talking and no laughing."
"Sounds like fun," Scott commented sarcastically. I grinned.
"It's nothing personal," I assured him. "I'm exiling you to the living room when I work on Stiles too."
"Right, because you've gotta be alone with him." I would have been willing to pass the comment off if I hadn't caught Scott's smug smirk as we walked into my room. He was clearly all too pleased with his own little joke. I narrowed my eyes.
"Because Stiles can hardly shut his trap as it is, and I don't need him trying to talk to you while I'm trying to paint his face," I corrected.
"Right. Of course," Scott nodded. Instead of trying to defend myself any more, I decided to change the subject. I smiled brightly, running over to my spare closet, currently my costume closet, and pulling out the outfit I'd put together for Scott.
"Tada!" I'd tried to keep the costume as simple as possible, as I knew Scott hadn't really wanted to dress up in the first place. On the hanger hung a pair of black slacks, a white button down shirt and bow tie, a gold medallion, and a long black cape with a high pointed collar. Scott raised his eyebrows.
"And that's…?" The wide grin dropped off my face as I returned to glaring at him.
"Scott, don't be an asshole. I know you know who Dracula is."
"Yeah, sorry," he relented, smirking. However, even when he dropped his act of confusion, I continued to glower at him.
"You're still not laughing." This time, the puzzlement that made Scott raise his eyebrows was real.
"Should I be?" I deflated, letting my hands fall to my sides and causing the cape to drag along the floor.
"In most conceived universes and plot lines, vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies. You're a werewolf, and I'm choosing to dress you up as the most iconic vampire of all time. That's why it's funny." Scott smiled patronizingly, more amused by my enthusiasm than the actual joke. I groaned, letting my head flop forward and moving to hang the clothes up on the closet door and put on some music. "You know what? Fine. My humor's wasted on you anyway. Let's get started."
"Okay, uh, what do you need me to do?" Scott asked, at least ready to cooperate if nothing else. I rolled my desk chair around to the center off the room, and dragged my tower of makeup supplies over. I noticed Scott looked slightly terrified.
"I just need you to sit quietly in that chair and let me do something with your hair."
"But I like my hair," Scott whined, shooting me his best pair of puppy dog eyes, which I ignored.
"So do I, but Dracula would not." Scott released a piteous sigh, making me chuckle as I poured a glop of gel into my palm. "Chill, dude. It's not like I'm shaving your head. I'm just gelling your hair back."
"Gel?" Scott squeaked, as if I had informed him I'd be ducking him head first into tar.
"Yup!" I chirped. And that was the last warning he got before I dumped the glop onto his skull, working the gel through his hair and attempting to slick it back.
While Scott's mop of brown hair was great, it was pretty much a nightmare to work with. He just had so much hair, and it was difficult to get it all slicked back into the normal Dracula hairstyle without putting in so much gel it hardened like a helmet. Eventually though, we managed. Then I moved onto his makeup, which was also slightly tricky. Usually I would have just painted his skin white and gone on shading from there, but Scott was so tan that it would have looked ridiculous. That meant I was blending and blending until I made a color light enough to work as vampire with his skin. I was working on shading, hollowing out his cheeks and making his eyes sink into his head, when he broke his vow of silence.
"Hey, Sadie?"
"Hm?" I hummed in response, mixing some purple powder into the shading mix.
"I'm really sorry about what I said to you the other day." I paused slightly in my movements before hurrying to continue my job.
"I already said it was fine," I brushed him off.
"No, it's not," he replied miserably. "I said really terrible things because of the full moon, and you and Stiles never did anything to deserve it."
"Scott, I know you're sorry," I said firmly, avoiding his gaze by focusing on pushing the powder under his eyebrow. "I get it."
"But I shouldn't have said-!"
"Scott, did you lie to me?"
"What?" he asked, looking up at me. I sighed.
"What you told me, about you having to suggest taking me to formal before it even occurred to him. Was that a lie?" Scott's face scrunched up in something akin to agony.
"Well no, but…"
"Then I don't care, Scott," I lied. "Yeah, it hurt, but you were telling the truth. Sometimes I don't like being reminded how much more everyone loves Lydia, but it's a fact."
"No!" Scott protested, his voiced strained. "Sadie, I… I mean, yeah I suggested he take you to formal, but it's not like Stiles… It's not like he wasn't already… He was…" Scott trailed off, and I smacked his hands away as he tried to run his hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, what I said was true, but it's not totally true."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, scrunching up my face. He sighed.
"It's like… Yeah, that happened, but other stuff happened too and if I leave that out, it kinda makes it feel like I'm…still lying?"
"Okay," I said, trying desperately to keep the shake out of my voice, even if Scott could hear my heartbeat rising with nerves. "What other stuff?"
"I…can't tell you…" Scott replied reluctantly. My spirits dropped, and he immediately piped, "Not because I don't want to! It's just like, it's how you wouldn't tell me what happened when you hung out with Allison, or how Stiles didn't want to tell you I was a werewolf, cause it's not really my thing to say cause he's my best friend and he was like, really drunk, so…"
"Yeah, bro code, I get it," I said shortly, screwing the cap back onto the makeup cream I was working with. Scott watched forlornly as I put my supplies away, then had to stop and take them out again as I remembered I still had to do Stiles's makeup and my own.
"I really wish I could tell you, Sadie," he mumbled, lips twitching up into a momentary smile. "Like, I really wish I could tell you what he said."
"Can you do me a favor and stop dangling?" I snapped. "If you're not gonna tell me, stop talking about it. Just go put on your costume, come back, and I'll put on the finishing touches." Resigned, Scott nodded quietly, grabbing the hanger of clothes from the door and heading down to the bathroom. I busied myself with setting up the makeup I needed for Stiles, who would be much more complicated than Scott, trying to push all thoughts of the previous conversation out of my head.
Scott returned a few minutes later completely dressed, gripping the edges of his cape and flapping childishly.
"So? How do I look?" I grinned wildly at the overall effect.
"You look like I'm a freaking genius. It's awesome."
"Cool," he replied, smiling sweetly.
"Okay, come here so I can finish you up, and then you're done." Scott plopped back into the chair, still playing with the edges of his cape as I painted a more defined, "Dracula" hairline and added the fake blood on the corners of his mouth. Without knocking or any warning whatsoever, Stiles strode into the room, collapsing on my bed, face in pillow. "Wow, thanks for knocking, asshat," I shot. He groaned quietly, flipping his head so his face was facing Scott and I.
"Your mom started singing along to the song from Hocus Pocus. I decided to give her a little privacy."
"You put on Hocus Pocus without me?" I demanded angrily, standing up to full height and recapping the fake blood. "That is my Halloween movie. Have you listened to anything I said this week?"
"Uh, not really," he replied with a grin. "Every time you said something close to Halloween, I kinda just tuned you out for the sake of my sanity." Scott sensed there was an argument about to occur, so he interrupted by spinning in his chair and standing up so Stiles could see his costume.
"So? What do you think?"
"Oh my God!" Stiles exclaimed, pushing himself up into a sitting position and bursting out laughing. "You're going as Dracula?! That's freaking hilarious!" I giggled at Stiles's response, crossing my arms and giving Scott a pointed look. Unfortunately, Scott just returned the smirk, glancing back as his best friend. "Dude, you look sick," Stiles went on. Scott grinned. "No, I mean seriously, you look like you're about to keel over and die. You okay?"
"He's undead, Stiles," I smirked. "He's supposed to look like that." Stiles seemed to relax marginally, smiling.
"Well then you also look sick like awesome-sick."
"Okay! So!" I clapped my hands and turned back to my tower of drawers. "Last thing is fangs."
"Uh guys," Scott chuckled. "I don't know if you noticed, but I've kinda got fangs of my own." I snapped up straight, turning to stare at him in astonishment.
"You seriously think I'm gonna let you tap into your barely controllable wolf-powers for fangs?" I demanded. Scott shrugged. "Nuh uh, you'll be wearing these." I tossed him a chunk of plastic, one of the cheap sets of foldable fake vampire teeth that every costume store seemed to sell. Scott raised his eyebrows.
"You couldn't get anything better than this?"
"Of course I could have," I beamed. Stiles laughed at Scott's confusion.
"It's irony," he explained. "You've got actual fangs, so she's giving you the worst possible fake ones. It's like our inside joke."
"Oh!" Scott gasped, breaking into a huge smile. "I get it." Stiles grinned fondly at his slowness, patting him on the shoulder.
"Knew you'd get there eventually, big guy."
"Okay, so Scott you are all done," I informed him. "Please vacate the premises so Stiles can wolf-out." Scott grinned as Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up into the air and perching himself on the spinny chair. Without a word, Scott smirked at the two of us and backed out of the room. I forced the glare off my face, turning back to Stiles.
"Just to clarify," he began, twisting back and forth in his seat. "Why is Scott not allowed to be here?"
"Because you get this," I explained, tossing him a package I'd managed to get my hands on. I had yet to cut it out of the plastic, but inside was a silicon, prosthetic werewolf snout. Stiles's mouth dropped open. "And it's gonna be hell to get on, so as hard as it is, I need you to try and not talk and not move."
"Absolutely," he agreed, waving the package in his hands. "I will be completely and utterly still."
As I predicted, Stiles was not completely and utterly still. I knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but his inability to remain motionless was beginning to grate on my nerves. Twenty minutes later, I was still attempting to apply the damn thing to his nose. He kept moving his head or twitching, ripping up the edges I'd managed to get smooth and forcing me to clean the glue off and start all over.
"I swear to God, Stiles!" I roared as he moved for what must have been the hundredth time. "If you move again I'm gonna fucking kill you."
"I'm sorry!" he whined. "It itches!"
"It's gonna itch a lot more when I punch you in the face," I growled, knowing it didn't make sense but too angry to care. I took a deep steadying breath. "Okay, let's try this again. Don't. Move." Ever so carefully, I began to glue the edges of the silicon down. I'd gotten about a quarter of the way around when Stiles anxiously jerked his head slightly, causing the prosthetic to wrinkle. I lost it. "You know what?! That's it!" And before I knew what I was doing, I shoved him into the back of the chair, swung one leg over him and sat on him. "Stop moving!"
But the command was unnecessary, as Stiles had effectively gone stock-still. I smoothed out the wrinkle with ease, returning to the task at hand, which seemed much easier from this angle. It actually took several seconds for the situation to sink in. I think in the end it was Stiles's face that made me realize it. His mouth was agape, and though it was wide open it seemed as though he wasn't breathing. He was staring at me with a strange expression, maple eyes wide and practically falling out of his face. I thought back to the last time I had seen Stiles look like that, when I reached my hand into his pocket at the school. And then my brain finally seemed to catch up with me. I was sitting on Stiles's lap. I had freaked out, lost every shred of sanity for a single moment, and decided it might be a good idea to straddle the kid. What the hell was I doing in Stiles's lap?!
I froze, my mind reeling. What the hell was I thinking? Or rather, why hadn't I been thinking at all? But Stiles wasn't spazzing or shoving me off. He seemed stunned, completely rigid underneath me. The phrase "deer in the headlights" came to mind, but for some reason it didn't seem strong enough. It was as if he was petrified, eyes staring forward at me, hands hovering awkwardly out to the sides, having ripped them from their previous position on his legs. I imagined I must have looked very similar, eyes wide open with the realization of what I'd done, lips slightly parted with shallow breath, my hands brushing his cheeks as I paused in fright. I felt the heat rising starting from the base of my neck, climbing higher towards my jawline and pink cheeks as I tried desperately not to think about where I was seated. My blood seemed to boil and run cold at the same time. My heart had stopped but I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. My stomach was fluttering and twisting and churning as I stared back at the burnt amber irises in front of me. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I liked Stiles. I'd been denying it to everyone, to my mom, to Allison, to Lydia, to Scott. But from my current vantage point it was completely impossible to deny the butterflies I had in my stomach, and even though I was scared out of my mind by what I had done—he had to be uncomfortable, God he looked so uncomfortable, was I super heavy, what if I was really heavy and he felt like he was being squashed, did I smell okay—I couldn't say I disliked the position. But Stiles couldn't know that. Even if everyone else had been right, even if I did like him, he was my friend and he was still in love with Lydia. Stiles saw me only as a friend, and Scott had even admitted I never once occurred to Stiles as an option. And he was too wonderful to lose as a friend, even if I wasn't friends with Scott, even if I wasn't forced to see him because I was one of the few people in Beacon Hills who knew about werewolves. So Stiles couldn't know.
My heart pounding brought me back to consciousness, as if with every thump my circulatory system was reminding me that I should probably not just sit in Stiles's lap, and teasing me with every beat that Scott could probably hear me going crazy from the living room. I blinked hard. Several seconds must have passed, and Stiles and I were still staring at each other. I cleared my throat.
"Don't move," I repeated softly. And then I went back to gluing on his fake werewolf snout as if nothing had happened. As if I didn't really have an army butterflies bouncing off the walls in my stomach. As if I wasn't hyper aware of Stiles's body heat, or any time his legs twitched under mine. I just kept working as if none of it bothered me at all.
Stiles and I both remained completely silent. I'd promptly gotten off him after the prosthetic was firmly in place, and continued to paint the rest of his skin while I was standing. The problem I'd had shading Scott's skin was completely reversed in Stiles's case. While Scott had been too tan to be made white, Stiles was too pale to be painted straight brown. I had to mix and mix brown with white until I got a suitable color, painting on the hard contours of non-existent muscles on his face, bulging on under his brows or in a snapping jaw. His face looked distinctly more animalistic when I'd finished, and it looked ever better since I'd gone all out with the snout and fangs. Stiles was so excited about the costume that I'd decided to spring for proper fakes, miles better than Scott's plastic play-teeth. I smiled at my handiwork, and declared him finished, handing Stiles a folded pile of clothes: ratty sneakers, a torn flannel shirt and dirty jeans. I'd shredded and frayed them all, adding patches of fur through some of the holes to make it seem like the clothes had ripped as he wolfed out. I stacked two clawed wolf gloves on top, as well as a wig.
"Um, no," Stiles disagreed, picking the wig up between his fingers. His voice was slightly hoarse, the first time he'd spoken in over an hour. "I'm not wearing a wig."
"Um, yeah you are," I replied, placing the item back on top of the clothes. "You're gonna look weird in the costume with your hair that short. It's way shorter than the hair in The Wolf Man." Stiles narrowed his eyes at the offending object, and I sighed. "Please just try it on? For authenticity's sake." Reluctantly, Stiles stood, snatching the pile from me.
"For visual accuracy," he agreed before walking out of the door and down to the bathroom. I watched them empty doorway until I heard the bathroom door close. When I was sure Stiles was safely out of the way, I emitting a pathetic sound somewhere between a sigh of relief and a groan of despair. What a way to realize I had a crush on the guy.
I dragged myself over to my vanity, plopping my elbows on the surface and peering at myself in the mirror through the fingers covering my face. It seemed obvious to me now, the signs everyone else had been reading, and I tried to imagine how I'd been so successfully in denial for so long. Even today, I'd gotten up at around six in the morning to shower, blow dry my hair, and apply flattering makeup I'd only be taking off in a few hours just because I wanted to pick up the boys, pick up Stiles, as soon as possible. I stared moodily at my reflection, glaring at the neat lines of eyeliner, the even complexion and blush that was only half caused by actual makeup, as if the cosmetics had betrayed me in hiding my feelings. I snatched up the makeup remover, roughly wiping the products from my face. I needed to clean it off before I applied my costume make up anyway, but I also felt as if I needed to erase the fact that I had tried so hard to look presentable.
"Everything okay in here?" I jumped and turned around to find Scott the friendly neighborhood vampire in my doorway. He wandered into the room with a slight grin, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I could hear you guys all the way downstairs."
"I didn't say you could come up yet," I countered, ignoring the hidden question about my peaked heart rate. Scott shrugged.
"I heard you tell Stiles he was done," he explained. "Nice line, by the way, about the authenticity."
"Thanks," I mumbled, turning back to the mirror and pulling my hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of my face while I worked.
"So, what happened?" I ignored him, cleaning off my skin before I could put on a base coat to grab the colored face paint, making it stay on my face longer and without wear. "You know, if you don't tell me I'm just gonna ask Stiles," he prodded when I was silent. Slowly, I placed the cream back down in front of me, turning around on the stool.
"I sort of…sat on him." It wasn't just an answer, but a submission. In those six words, I'd not only informed Scott why my heart rate had skyrocketed, but admitted that, yes, I knew what he was talking about and, yes, I had a crush on Stiles. I was giving in.
"You what?" Scott demanded. His heavily darkened eyebrows shot up, looking extremely comical with all the makeup.
"He kept moving!" I hissed in defense. "I was just trying to do his makeup and he kept twitching and I got frustrated and next thing I knew I was sitting his lap to keep him still. I wasn't thinking. You don't need to remind me what a terrible idea it was."
"Uh, no," Scott coughed, clearly attempting to hide his extreme amusement. "I uh…" Words seemed to fail him as he suddenly burst out into raucous laughter. I narrowed my eyes as he clutched his stomach, wheezing in delight of my discomfort.
"Wow, thanks Scott," I growled, turning back to the mirror. He hardly seemed to notice, bent forward as he laughed, his face completely scrunched up. "You better not cry," I shot. "Not only will I have to kick your ass for thinking it's that funny, but I'll have to do it twice because you ruined your makeup."
"S-Sorry," he gasped, trying to compose himself and not touch his face. "Oh God, you… Sadie, that's…" However, for whatever reason, he didn't finish the sentence. I wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid he would start laughing again or if he seriously felt so terrible for me that he couldn't figure out a non-offensive way to end the sentence. I ended his pause for him.
"Scott, you cannot tell Stiles," I ordered seriously. The vampire-werewolf in front of me sobered up almost immediately, still grinning, but eyes holding a certain wounded astonishment.
"No, I-I wouldn't tell him," Scott assured me. "Never. It goes both ways, you know, like…like you not telling Allison that I'm a werewolf or that I love her. I'd never tell him anything you said." I relaxed slightly, still on edge. I suddenly felt very exposed, as if sharing my secret with Scott somehow meant he could see me more clearly, see more of me. It left me vulnerable.
The loaded silence was broken by a joyous whoop from down the hallway as the bathroom door swung open.
"Awroooo!" Stiles slid into the doorway fully dressed, howling and baring his claws and teeth. Scott and I laughed as he composed himself, practically bouncing up and down like a child. "Guys! I'm a werewolf!"
"Yeah, Stiles, we know," Scott chuckled, watching his friend in amusement.
"No, guys! I am a werewolf and I look kickass!"
"You're welcome," I grinned, eyes scanning over the costume to make sure everything was complete. Stiles beamed.
"That's not what I look like," Scott commented in mild confusion.
"Good," Stiles replied, claws on hips. "You'd be like the worst costume ever." I chuckled, wandering over to smooth out some of the tufts of hair poking through the shirt.
"We were going for more of a Larry Talbot look," I informed him.
"Larry…?" Scott asked in confusion. I was about to snap at him when he saved himself. "Oh, wait, is that the dude from your werewolf movie?" Stiles and I both glanced at him in surprise.
"The Wolf Man, yeah," Stiles answered. "You know, Scott, there might be hope for you yet." I grinned, patting Stiles on the shoulder.
"Okay, well it looks like you two are good to go, so… Get out."
"What?" Stiles whined. "Why?"
"Because I need to do my makeup now," I reminded him, turning him on the spot and pushing him toward the door.
"But you don't need to worry about us talking or keeping still," Scott pointed out.
"No, but I do need to be able to concentrate," I replied tugging him along. "Just go put on Night of the Living Dead. I think that's about all the time I'll need."
"But that's like an hour and a half!" Stiles complained. I shrugged.
"I've got a lot of work to do. Now scoot." Stiles huffed and tried to pout, but he couldn't manage it with the fake teeth in.
"Girls," he grumbled, walking away with his friend. I smiled and shut the door, turning back to my makeup station. Time to get to work.
My estimate ended up being just about dead on. I'd needed to paint my arms, legs, face and neck a sickly grey-green, and then added dirt smudges, scars, spots of decay and open wounds, which were of course the best part. I hollowed out my cheeks, made my eyes sink as far as they could into my head, and painted my eyelashes and eyebrows white, as well as a few tufts of hair, which I'd teased into a literal rats' nest. I slid into a torn, ragged sundress and a destroyed pair of Mary Janes, and after checking over my makeup and adding some more fake blood, I walked down stairs a completely horrifying undead farm girl zombie. I was usually satisfied with my own costume makeup, but I'd properly outdone myself today.
I snuck into the living room as quietly as possible, inching towards the back of the couch where Stiles and Scott sat enthralled by the movie. It was just reaching the end, where all of the survivors in the farmhouse get attacked, and I mentally celebrated my own good timing. I loomed over them, and as the screen faded to black, Scott caught sight of my reflection.
"Uh, Stiles…?" he tugged on his friend's sleeve, pointing to the television. They both slowly turned around to look up at me. I let out a broken, half-dead groan, and both boys freaked. They screamed shrilly, sliding off the couch and into a tangled mess of flailing arms and legs on the floor. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach as they tried to compose themselves.
"Hey! Don't mess up your makeup!" I barked through my giggles. "I'm not fixing it!" Scott groaned when he realized it was just me, though Stiles was still gasping, chest heaving up and down as he tried to recover from the panic.
"You're the worst," Scott grumbled, and my mother came flying into the room.
"What is it? Is everything…?" She trailed off as she looks around the room, zombie-me laughing my ass off and both boys on the floor. "Oh, okay. Wow, nice scare, sweetie. I honestly thought they were being murdered."
"Thank you, Mom!" I replied in a singsong voice as the boys climbed slowly to their feet. "Sorry," I apologized, handing them pillowcases to collect candy it. "Too good of an opportunity."
"Well you look…dead…" Stiles observed, nodding his approval. I rolled my eyes.
"Thanks, Stiles. Just what every girl wants to hear."
"It looks awesome, Sadie," Scott complimented with a small grin, which I returned.
"Okay!" I cheered. "Let's get this show on the road!"
"Wait!" my mother said shrilly, dashing off. "Pictures!"
A hundred pictures later—all of them featuring Scott with closed eyes—Stiles, Scott and I hit the streets. We walked around for hours, trying to cover as much of residential Beacon Hills as possible. We got a lot of strange looks, which was hilarious, both because we were some of the oldest kids out and because our costumes were truly magnificent. We got a handful of compliments from adults in their houses, along with handfuls of candy, and elicited a scream or two from the wandering elementary school kids. It was a bit sadistic, and I felt bad for the parents who had to deal with children sobbing about monsters roaming the streets, but it made me just a tiny bit proud too. Crying children were an assurance that the costumes did justice to their original Hollywood counterparts.
As we'd planned, a couple hours later we came to a stop in front of the Argents' house. Scott looked at it in longing, which I attempted to ignore for the most part.
"Well, thank you for inviting me," I said with gratitude. "This has successfully been one of my favorite Halloweens ever."
"Thanks for forcing yourself into our plans," Stiles replied with a smirk.
"I'd hug, but you can't screw up your makeup until after the party," I reminded him. Both boys nodded, Stiles looking a little more excited about the prospect of partying at Lydia's now that the important Halloween traditions were out of the way. "I'll see you guys later," I dismissed, lugging my sack of candy up to the house.
I hopped up onto the porch, ringing the doorbell and waiting patiently. After a few moments, Mr. Argent pulled the door open, giving a start when he saw me instead of a hoard of seven year olds.
"Trick or treat!" I grinned, causing Mr. Argent to smirk and shake his head.
"Tell me, Sadie, do you like Halloween?"
"Just a bit," I replied, trying to suppress a giggle. He smiled and stepped aside, hand gesturing up the stairs.
"Allison's in her room, and I'm sure my wife would appreciate it if you could try not to uh, ooze on the floor." I beamed, nodding my head and stepping carefully over the threshold.
"Will do, Mr. Argent." I treaded precariously up the steps, easing my way over to Allison's bedroom door. I considered knocking, then decided I'd better not since I'd probably get paint all over the door. "Hey, Allison?" I called. "It's Sadie."
"Oh hey!" she called back, and there was a light rustling as she got up to open the door. "I didn't hear you come—oh my God!" Allison jumped back from the door as it swung open, revealing my zombified body. I laughed at her, waving a hand slightly and entering the room without invitation. "Sadie, what the hell?!"
"What?" I asked innocently, tossing my bag of candy on the bed with a non-too-soft thump. "I'm a zombie."
"Yeah, I can see that," she replied shakily. "Is Lydia seriously letting you wear that to the party?"
"No, of course not," I laughed. "That's why we're getting ready here, and why I'm going to ask for the embarrassing favor for use of your shower." Allison laughed, raising her eyebrows as her eyes scanned my costume, cataloging the amount of paint I was covered in.
"Yeah you definitely need to shower. Come on." She bounced over to her closet, grabbing the hanger and garment bag I'd dropped at her house yesterday with my party dress in it. Then she led me down the hall to the bathroom, graciously showing me how to work the faucet. She ducked out for a matter of seconds before striding back in with a smirk. "Okay, so I got you some car towels so you don't stain the good ones with your gross zombie-skin, and once you're positive you've got all the paint off, you can use this one." She placed the stack of towels on the toilet seat, then tossed what looked like a hunk of steel wool on top with a wink. "And that's for scrubbing your decay out of the bathtub."
"Thank you, oh gracious host," I replied, attempting and failing to run my fingers through my hair. She winked.
"No problem. Get washed up. You still have to help me with my costume too." I nodded and Allison shut the door.
I tried as hard as I could to make my shower short. I had to scrub furiously to get the makeup off, and trying to get the tangles and paint out of my hair was a nightmare, but I didn't want to use too much of the Argents' hot water. Finally, I did manage to get myself completely zombie-free. My skin was red and felt positively raw, but I figured it would have time to soothe out while I worked on Allison's make up. I climbed out of the shower, drying myself off and slipping into my dress before using the hair dryer under the sink to blow my hair out. Confident that both my body and the bathroom were clean, I padded back to Allison's room.
She had already slipped into the clothing part of the costume I'd made for her. After a long discussion with Lydia, we'd decided to go for something girly, but still distinctly Allison. I'd adapted one of my old ballet costumes into a fairy dress, slightly poofy skirt looking like it was made of rose petals, and a pale green bodice with vines and leaves painted and glued on. She'd also opted for a pair of white tights, and tweaked ballet flats that had ribbons that wound up her calves. I beamed.
"Good to see you're back to being human," she commented as I strode in. I chuckled, laying the garment bag, which now held my zombie costume, on her bed.
"I am. And now it's time for you to not be. Come here!" Allison raised her eyebrows at my excitement.
"Wow, for a moment there you actually sounded like Lydia." I glared playfully at her.
"I am just super passionate about Halloween and ready to make you look super cute. Now do you want to hear about my day or not?"
Allison relented and let me fuss over her hair and makeup while I told her about my morning, afternoon, and evening with the boys. I'd been hesitant to tell her about any time I'd spent with Scott, but she insisted she was fine and that I should continue. My pace slowed when I approached the part of the story where I was doing Stiles's makeup. It was a good thing Allison's party makeup was minimal—glowing skin, decorative eyeliner that curled into swirls down her cheeks and pale lipstick—stuff I quickly finished and didn't need her to remain motionless for, because when I finally revealed that I'd actually sat on Stiles Stilinski's lap, she actually screamed. I hushed her furiously, but it seemed Allison could not be reasoned with. She batted away my hands from her hair, where I'd been incorporating more ribbons and leaves, and stared at me with a wide mouthed grin. She went into a giggling tirade, which was not helped by my confession that she may have been right about me having a crush on Stiles. She was chanting things like, "oh my God, oh my God," and, "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" I was actually preparing myself for a rousing chorus of "Sadie and Stiles sitting in a tree." Thankfully, she seemed to have a little more integrity than that. I tried my best to ignore her as I started my own makeup, but now that I had finally given her a formal confession, it appeared Allison wanted to pay me back for all the time I'd spent listening to her talk about Scott. I reminded her tirelessly that Stiles and I didn't have that kind of relationship, and most likely never would seeing as he was in love with my roommate. Allison had waved that tiny tidbit off, correcting my phrasing to "blinded by Lydia" and hurrying on to ask me to share any stories I had about the time I'd been spending with Stiles. Obviously, I had plenty of stories of the time I'd been spending with Stiles, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to start with the marathon we'd run in the school with a werewolf on our heels, or our fun bonding while we watched over her moody, werewolf ex-boyfriend during the full moon. Just to get her off my back, I gave her tiny half stories, like how Stiles and I had been texting at the table while she planned her group date with Lydia, or how he'd hugged me after the video store attack and gave his all trying to beat me in video games. It seemed to be enough to sate her, giving me enough time to complete my makeup and costume before there was another knock on the door.
"Hello?" Kate stuck her head in, festively dressed in an orange sweater with black slacks. She gave a low whistle when she saw us, beaming. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you both look like you belong in a Halloween catalog," she sighed, faking disappointment. She did a slight double take. "Hang on, what happened to the undead Sadie Bennet my brother was telling me about?"
"This is just my costume for Lydia's party," I explained, gesturing down at my body. I was sporting a basic little black dress, one Lydia had picked out for me. This was obvious by the way it tightly hugged my curves all the way down to my thighs, instead of poofing out at the waist like the dresses I normally chose. As usual, it was paired with sheer black stockings and black pumps. I had brushed my hair back to its normal straightness, and done fairly normal makeup, dark liner, smoky eyes and red lips. The only things that really made it a costume were the cat ears I'd thrown on my head, the tail hanging down my back, my cherry red collar with a large gold bell, and the whiskers and cat eyes I'd painted on. It wasn't a costume I normally would have gone for, but as Lydia had chosen to be a flirty witch, I'd consented to be her familiar as repayment for spending the rest of the holiday with Stiles and Scott. Kate smirked.
"And this wouldn't have anything to do with impressing your formal date, right?"
"No," I replied firmly. "This has everything to do with me getting my roommate off my back about the party." Allison giggled maniacally from the bed, shedding suspicion onto my story. Kate glanced at her niece, raising her eyebrows. I huffed. "Okay fine, maybe it has a little something to do with catching Stiles's attention, but it's mostly because of Lydia!"
"Ah!" Kate half squealed, shutting the door firmly behind her. "Does this mean you're out of denial?" I groaned, collapsing on the bed next to Allison.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Hey, no pouting," Kate scolded, sitting on the comforter as well. "Because you know what that means?"
"What?" Allison asked with excitement.
"It means I can finally give you boy advice."
Kate seemed to have an endless realm of knowledge. She knew how to joke, she knew how to shoot, and she also seemed to know everything there was to know about catching the attention of boys who were particularly reluctant. She kept the advice up as I finished my interrupted work on Allison's hair. She told me what to wear, what to do in various situations and listed about a thousand subtle yet suggestive turns of phrase to slip into conversation that I didn't think I'd ever be confident enough to use. Her last piece of advice had been a very sage thought I knew I couldn't follow through on.
"But you know what they say," she mused, helping me with Allison's fairy costume by gluing a small leaf to her niece's temple. "The best way to get a guy's attention is to suddenly stop giving him yours."
"I can't not talk to Stiles," I dismissed through my teeth, mouth currently muffled by bobby pins. Kate chuckled.
"I know it's hard when you first realize you like a guy, hun, but…"
"No," I interrupted. "I mean like my day-to-day activities require me to talk to Stiles. It's not something I can easily get around."
"Well, you don't have to talk to him all the time," she pointed out, reaching out to pull the bobby pins out of my mouth and holding them for me instead. "Why don't you just try not talking to him tonight?"
"After I invited him and Scott to the party? How am I supposed to do that?"
"Well, it's a party," Allison offered. "Just flit around and socialize with everyone else like Lydia wants you to."
"Besides, you already spent the whole day with the guy," Kate reminded me. "Just steer clear of him for the rest of the night." She paused, rethinking her words. "Well, steer clear of talking to him. You don't wanna be too far from his line of sight when you look that hot and you've got a collar around your neck."
"Kate!" I laughed, ripping the last bobby pin out of her hand. She and Allison both giggled.
"I'm just saying he's a teenage boy!" she defended with a shrug. "Even if he doesn't say it out loud, that's kinky." We all subsided into uncontrollable laughter until finally Kate pushed us out of the room, offering to drive us back to my house.
Lydia answered the door already in her witch costume. She wore a short, poufy almost tutu-esque skirt with a black bodice and faux-corset round the middle. She'd amped up her usual outfit by trading her normal stockings for clichéd, striped tights and knee high boots with buckles on the feet. Instead of a large witch's hat, she'd opted for a very small one on a headband, which sported yet another buckle. She was ecstatic when she saw us.
"Ah! You both look fantastic! Sadie, I knew I taught you well!" she squealed, clapping her hands and taking the garment bag from me so it could be properly disposed of upstairs.
"Excuse you, I take complete credit for this talent," I replied smugly. "You can claim responsibility for my everyday looks, but costume makeup is and always has been my thing."
"Fine, fine," she agreed. "Now get in here and help me set up!"
Since I had already done most of the decorations myself, the party was mostly already set up. Lydia had set up several tables in the back, covered per my instruction, with red table clothes and candelabras with battery operated tea-candles. The tables were loaded with finger foods, everything from candied apples, chicken tenders, chips and salsa, bowls of candy, and scattered with glitter and candy corn. The fake graves I'd planted looked perfect and eerie in the evening light, even if Lydia had taken the liberty of adding flowers and more glitter to all of the headstones. The candles inside the jack-o-lanterns had been lit, and there were a variety of yellow and orange faces staring at us from every angle. I practically squealed when I noticed the light smoke billowing over the grass, courtesy of the fog machine Lydia had magically acquired, and not too far from the porch stood three large wooden buckets, all filled with water and shining red apples. I launched myself at Lydia for a hug. It was everything I'd ever hoped for.
Not long after Allison and I arrived, the guests started pouring in. Jackson arrived first, coincidentally dressed in his lacrosse uniform and carrying a football helmet. Then Danny dressed as… Well to be honest I wasn't quite sure what Danny was. He was almost as creative and passionate about the holiday as I was when he had a reason to be, and the party had given him just enough of an excuse to put together a beautiful costume of his own design. Then Christine Ashwood as a cheerleader; Evie and Brian as a devil and angel respectively, which was more than slightly off-putting; Dylan Peters as either a pimp or a rapper, since none of the guests seemed to be able to tell what he was going for. I even recognized Rebecca when she strolled in as Storm from X-Men, towing her Harry Potter boyfriend behind her. I hung out with them for a while before I politely ducked out so they could have some privacy. Instead, I was pulled into a wonderful conversation with Danny about everything from the original traditions of Halloween, to the weird techy reason he owned a fog machine—as I discovered he was the reason Lydia had been able to get one—in the first place, to the gruesome math test that was approaching the Monday we got back to school. I spent a lot of the party with Danny, two kids ditched by their best friends to go make out in a corner as usual. He tried to back me up when a very drunk Dylan Peters challenged me to bobbing for apples, attempting to talk his teammate down. But I'd had enough of Lydia's suspicious, blood red punch that I took the bet, demanding he leave me alone for the entirety of the next week if and when I won. He'd merely smirked, countering that his win meant I'd have to go on a date with him, which we all knew was basically a straight up code for propositioning me. Danny reluctantly agreed to be the referee, mumbling something about bad ideas as Dylan and I kneeled down in front of our own buckets.
"Three… Two… One… Go!" I dunked my head face first into the bucket, not one to waste time. I could feel water splashing my exposed back as Dylan flailed about in the water and mentally sighed. The boy simply did not know the word 'strategy.' I targeted one apple and pressed it against the wall of the bucket before, with surprising ease, sinking my teeth into the apple's flesh. I jumped up from my knees apple still in my mouth and threw my arms up in the air. There was a smattering applause from onlookers, as well as a few lighthearted boos from the lacrosse players who'd been rooting for Dylan. He lifted his head from the bucket at the noise, hair plastered over his face. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but I immediately raised a hand, pointing at him warningly.
"Ah ah ah," I piped, removing the apple from my mouth. "I don't want to hear your voice for another week. Buh-bye." Peters rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and walking away, sopping wet and ready to be accepted into a small group of at least semi-sympathetic lacrosse players. Danny grinned, high fiving me. But instead of lowering his hand, he grabbed mine and tugged me just a tad closer.
"I think you have an audience," he chuckled. I followed his gaze over my shoulder, spotting a familiar vampire and werewolf watching from my porch. When I turned around, Stiles's face changed instantly from a smirk to plain shock, his jaw dropping completely, while Scott just smiled in astonishment. I took a deep breath before jogging over to them.
"Hey, guys!" I greeted, wiping the damp hair from my face. "Glad you could make it."
"Yeah, well you invited us," Scott reminded me, and he began to look wildly around the backyard. "Have you seen…?"
"She's over by the snacks," I answered before he could finish, gesturing easily towards the table where Allison was picking at the bowl of sweets. "Do not talk to her, Scott."
"I'm not going to," he assured me, backing away from Stiles and I and making his way closer to the table. "I'm just gonna…" But just what he intended to do, he never told us. Instead, he turned midsentence and walked away. I turned back to Stiles with a nervous grin, but he was still staring at me blankly.
"Why…you're…not a zombie…"
"No," I chuckled. "This is the Lydia Martin approved Halloween costume, actually. I think I looked better undead."
"No!" Stiles replied immediately. "I mean, uh, no you look…" He trailed off, eyes scanning my outfit as if he expected to find the correct word written on me somewhere. Just as Kate had predicted, I noticed his wide eyes linger momentarily on the collar around my neck. He swallowed, forcing his eyes up to my face. "Um, your whiskers are kind of…uh, like smudged…"
"What?" I reached up and touched my cheek, glancing down at my fingers as they came away wet and tinged with black paint. "Oh, yeah. I was bobbing for apples."
"Yeah, yes, I-I saw that," he stammered, nodding. I noticed his eyes dart down to my tail hanging down by my legs.
"Right, well I better wash this off," I excused myself, shifting my weight a little between my feet. "Enjoy the party!" I took a single, huge bite out of my apple before striding inside, leaving a stunned Stiles Stilinski alone on the back porch. I could almost sense that he was watching me go, and attempted to add enough of a sway in my hips to make my tail swing back and forth. I chanced a glance back as I rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, peeking through my hair and through the crowd just for a moment. I might have been imagining it, but I was pretty sure I could still see the amber eyes also trying to peer inconspicuously through the crowd after me. I ducked behind a corner, taking another satisfied bite of my apple.
Oh yeah. Halloween was definitely my favorite holiday.
A/N: I'm sorry that was so very long. This is like the longest chapter yet. That wasn't supposed to happen. I just meant to write a cute little filler about Halloween, and Sadie confession to herself that she liked Stiles and then...And then this happened instead. One have one guess to guess my favorite holiday, guys. ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoyed that ridiculous amount of fluff, and for the few people who warned me that they hated fluff, I hope there was enough plot development that it wasn't too painful for you to read.
Thank you so much for all the new favoriters and followers, and of course all my reviewers: Lucy Greenhill, TameTheGhosts, xALFiex, GetsueiNoYume, becca1130, CypherToorima, Isaac fan, ScornedxRose, Krisseh, vanillaclouds101, xxxxninaxxxx, Kelly1432, Lojo2014o, LifeToDeath, BrainsBeforeBeauty, KageNoUta27, LynZann, CharlotteAHJones, ellisbellisballs, and LionHeartMisfit!
As usual guys, especially with filler chapters that come completely from my brain, please let me know what you think! I'm excited to hear your thoughts on this new development!
-Brittney