Archive of Our Own

And see, I thought I was going to be exempt from the costume hi-jinks this year. Apparently I was wrong. Again. Of course, the lovely Bar could have been far more unpleasant to me than she was. At least this year I am dressed as a doctor.

Or, I assume that is the look she was going for when she gave me this outfit with a nametag for someplace called 'Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital' and 'Dr.' in front of my name. I say 'assume' because I'm in jeans, a vintage graphic tee, a wrinkled blue button down and a jacket that measures correctly everywhere except in length. Oh, and a pair of sneakers and grey socks.

Come to think of it, I took a lot like House. 'Wonder if there is any Vicodin in the pocket. Might make the day go a little better.

For me anyway. When Greg comes down he's in a suit much like what I wear on stage. He even has a top hat and a slick cane that matches. I'll bet there are rabbits in the jacket pockets. No, not really. Rabbits stay in their cages.

"I want my clothes back," he snarls at me as he enters the bar and slides onto the stool beside mine.

I nod to him. "Sure, as soon as you give mine back."

"No way. This is hot," he fires back.

He's right. it is hot. Really hot. I don't know that I've seen him decked out in a subtle tux, complete with sleek walking stick before, but I like it. The black pants give him a slim line and the jacket makes his shoulders look full and broad. Of course, it also doesn't hurt that he's standing up straight. Tuxedos do that to you. There's just something about formal wear.

"Why are you dressed like me anyway?" he asks me.

I wave a hand at Bar. "Halloween. Just like last year. And the year before."

He sighs and orders a beer. "Right."

"What, you don't like looking like me?" I ask, looking mildly affronted.

"No," he answers. "I'd rather look like me."

I lean in close, whisper in his ear, "Even if you look good enough to eat?" I bend and nibble at his neck. "Or if just seeing you dressed as a successful stage magician makes me want to push you into a dark corner and suck you off for hours?"

He groans softly and I see him close his eyes. "Huh, I think I like this costume now." He curls his hand around my neck and I can feel the sweat from his beer bottle. It's cold and wet, but nice. "Not sure you pull off my look as well, but that just gives me a good reason to take the clothes off you," he growls and leans in to nip at my ear.

I'm all for that plan. "What say you and I slink away upstairs to have a little fun with our costumes?"

I swear I see his eyes glitter. Then he slips off the stool and starts toward the hot tub. "Better idea." He nods that way. "My leg hurts. Help me out, youngster."

God, I love him. And anyone else calling me 'youngster' would earn my wrath. Not him. He's different. Special. Just don't ever let him know I said that about him. But he is. Even if he doesn't know it.