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Dream likes Halloween.
He likes the decorations, cheap gauzy spiderwebs and plastic skulls lining neighborhood gardens. He likes the sweet indulgence of free candy. He likes the orange glow of the jack-o-lanterns sitting on every other doorstep.
He likes watching Punz as he bends over his pumpkin, his hair falling just over his eyes. He likes how Punz sticks his tongue out just a little bit as he focuses and he likes the way Punz’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and he just likes Punz in general, really.
It’s probably a hopeless crush. Dream is a miserable student with an unhealthy sleep schedule who spends his free time gaming and third-wheeling his two best friends (lame). Punz, almost two years older, has a job at a car dealership, can skateboard well enough to make Dream’s brain short-circuit, and paints his nails shiny black (hot). They’ve been friends for years, years of lighthearted competition and camaraderie and the quiet sizzle of Dream’s feelings burning the underside of his tongue. But they’re friends, and even as he feels his heart twinge watching Punz’s hair curl behind his ears, Dream knows he wouldn’t trade that for anything.
“Dream?”
Dream blinks, mind slammed back into reality by the weight of Punz’s eyes on him. A blush warms his cheeks like wildfire and he looks back down at his own half-carved pumpkin as if that will negate his unapologetic staring.
“Are you good?” Punz asks, peering at him. “Why were you looking at me?”
“Nothing,” Dream laughs nervously, “just—you’re more interesting to look at the two idiots over there.”
Punz glances over his shoulder, his face twisting in mock-distaste. “Are they still sucking face? What the hell, they’ve barely made any progress, why are we even here?”
“I heard that!” Sapnap exclaims from the couch. George is on his lap. Dream is sitting on the floor half a body length away from where Punz is cradling his pumpkin. These facts are unrelated, of course.
Pressing a lingering kiss to his boyfriend’s jaw, George looks up with a sly smirk. “I don’t know, Dream seems equally distracted.”
“You’re an idiot,” Dream fires back automatically.
“At least I’m an idiot with a costume,” George retorts.
“You’re going as peanut butter and jelly with Sap, that’s hardly—”
“Jesus,” Sapnap drawls, hooking George around the waist. George shifts closer, kissing Sapnap on the cheek with an obnoxious smack. “You guys fight like an old married couple, and I’m the one he’s dating.”
Dream doesn’t even flinch. For all that his friends joke about his and George’s relationship, it’s always been Sapnap and George. Even from the beginning, when they were all teenagers drudging through high school and Sapnap would turn his doe eyes on George, hiding behind Dream when he got caught. And there was George, insufferably stubborn, who would always sit down to teach Sapnap chess or computer science or whatever new idea he had contracted, enduring and attentive in a way he never was with Dream. Dream glances at them now; fingers intertwined, thighs pressed together, their gazes turned to each other in messy affection, and feels a rush of pride.
“You are disgusting,” Dream announces, turning back to his pumpkin-carving.
“We are adorable," Sapnap says, mock-offended. "And we’re going to be adorable on Halloween since we picked out the cutest couples costumes.”
Dream scoffs. “Congrats, you’re dressing up as a kindergartener’s lunch special.”
Punz laughs, a deep, scratchy, hearty thing, and Dream’s heart suddenly trips over itself. He curses himself for the rising blush on his cheeks at the smallest morsel of Punz’s attention, internally willing his heart rate to please slow the fuck down. He was not that desperate.
“To be fair, you do need a costume,” Punz chimes in. Dream shoots him a dirty look, betrayed.
“As I recall, you also don’t have one yet either,” he counters.
“Halloween is in two days, you’re screwed, you’re screwed,” George cackles, voice lilting upwards in sing-song mockery.
“Well, we can certainly do better than a lame PB&J costume,” Punz retaliates, suddenly taking charge. “Dream, get out your phone.”
“What?”
“Get out your phone,” Punz repeats, “my hands are sticky with pumpkin guts.”
Dream pulls out his phone obediently, confused. “Why, though?”
“You’re going to find us a better costume than a PB&J,” Punz orders, and Dream tries not to shiver at the confidence in his tone. “Shouldn’t be hard. We’re going to out-Halloween these motherfuckers.”
“Fuck you,” calls Sapnap lightly from across the room.
“Like, a couples costume?” Dream asks Punz hesitantly, ignoring his two terrible, terribly-in-love best friends.
“Sure,” Punz shrugs, and they make eye contact for a split second, Punz’s piercing blue gaze paralyzing Dream in all space and time. “But like, as a friendship couple. A duo. We can have a duo costume.”
“Cool,” Dream replies weakly, pointedly not looking at Punz. A friendship couple. That’s a good one.
He scrolls through the search results, frowning as he quickly finds a pattern. “Um, there’s not a lot of options still in stock this late in the season.”
“Pick anything that’s available,” Punz says casually. “I trust you.”
Dream swallows, fingers stilling on the webpage. I trust you. “Yeah. Yeah.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of pumpkin seeds and festive music and comfortable quiet. Dream eats a king-size chocolate bar and steals quick glances at Punz’s side profile. George accidentally nicks his finger with the carving knife and gets blood on his pumpkin, which Sapnap claims makes it spookier and more “authentically Halloween.” The two of them kiss again, after Sapnap confiscates the knife. It’s frustratingly cute. Punz makes a jack-o-lantern with a simple smiley face and a slightly crooked smile.
“When are our costumes coming?” Punz asks, shuffling closer to him as he places his finished pumpkin on the counter. Dream watches as he fishes a lighter out of his pocket and flicks it on easily. The flame hovers just past his thumb, a tiny starburst of light.
“Sunday,” Dream whispers, staring at the fire in Punz’s hands. He has long, deft fingers, a hand curling carefully around the tiny flame. Dream wonders if Punz would ever hold him like that—like something exquisite and gentle. He shudders at his own fantasy. Dream can only imagine, but he pictures himself as liquid light between Punz’s palms—burning and burning.
“Sunday,” Punz echoes lowly, gently brushing the lighter against the top of the candle wick until it catches alight, the pumpkin brightening with a sunshine smile. Punz looks up with a grin. “Perfect.”
___
It’s Sunday afternoon. The sun is set to die in a few hours, bringing with it the dusk of Hallow’s Eve and a horde of costumed children roaming the streets, tucking sweets into their pockets. Halloween—with the distinct buzz of anticipation in the air, an undercurrent of holiday anxiety tugging at Dream’s feet. He sighs, and hands Punz the package with their costumes.
“Isn’t this what you ordered?” Punz asks, squinting at the package. “Witch and Wizard Matching Robes Costume Set, order number 31102021—”
“Yes,” Dream says emphatically, “matching robes, I ordered robes. Not… this.”
Punz tears the package open, revealing a neatly folded bundle of silky black fabric. He holds them up: First, a long cloak with exaggerated sleeves and a clasp at the neck. Geometric, silver thread embellishments line the hood. Second—and Punz winces as he examines it—a short black dress with sheer, gauzy sleeves, cinched at the waist with black lace that follows the length of the seam. It’s a tiny, revealing garment in comparison to the extravagant cloak and robes, the costume set clearly marketed for a heterosexual couple. (Not that he and Punz were a couple at all, but still.)
“It’s not so bad,” Punz tries.
“We don’t have time to get a replacement,” Dream groans, sinking down into the sofa. “The party’s in like three hours, what are we supposed to do?”
“What happened to that competitive spirit of yours?” Punz nudges him. “Come on, this is definitely going to be better than a stupid PB&J costume, and I am not losing to those nimrods. Try it on.”
He tosses the dress into Dream’s lap.
“Funny,” Dream says, picking it up and holding it out in front of him, “if you think I’m going to wear this.”
Punz shrugs. “I can’t wear it. It’s not going to fit.”
Dream stares at him. “It’s not going to fit me either, I’m taller than you!”
“Yeah, but not by that much. Plus. It’ll look—uh, better on you. Y’know.”
Dream blinks, brow furrowed in confusion. “No? What are you even talking about?”
Punz won’t meet his eyes. Is he blushing? “You’ve got, like, curves and shit.”
“Curves?!!” Dream chokes. “You think—you think that—”
“Well, you know,” Punz says obscurely, gesturing at Dream. His ears are bright red. “You have a nice waist and stuff. You work out.”
“Oh my god,” Dream says, putting his hands over his face to cover the blush on his cheeks.
“You’re a handsome guy, come on!” Punz continues loudly, oblivious to Dream’s internal breakdown. “I just think you would look good. You’ve worn a dress before, right?”
“Once or twice,” he squeaks out, not taking his hands away from his face.
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Punz says quickly, tone changing. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything, we don’t even have to do costumes at all.”
And, well. That’s definitely not what Dream wants. He wants to have fun at a party with Punz, and watch him get rosy-cheeked by midnight. He wants Punz to look at him and whisper terrible sweetness into his ear. And—he’s slightly embarrassed by wanting to wear the dress, embarrassed by wanting to be admired by Punz.
“I want to,” Dream says, then pulls his hands away from his face, ignoring the fire in his cheeks. He clears his throat, “I want to wear a costume for Halloween. With you.”
“Okay,” Punz says cautiously, eyeing him. “And?”
“I’ll wear the dress,” Dream mutters into his lap, flushed from Punz’s compliments.
“The robes,” Punz corrects with a cheeky sideways grin at Dream, grabbing the more traditional wizard’s costume. Dream swats at him.
“Fuck off.”
They split into separate rooms to change. For all that they’re comfortable with each other, Dream’s heart still goes rabbit-fast at the prospect of being even partially unclothed around Punz. Something in Punz’s face reveals that same tension, but he nods with an encouraging smile as Dream slips into the bathroom with his costume.
Dream steps into the dress with remarkable ease, turning around in the mirror to see how it looks. A little self-conscious, he tugs the hem down a little further, staring at himself.
“Damn,” he grins, and does a little half-twirl, enjoying the swoop of fabric flowing past his hips. For all his apprehension about the garment, he feels electric.
In a burst of sudden inspiration, he comes up with a tube of eyeliner, unused since the last time he actually wanted to impress someone. Forcing his hands to still, Dream carefully drags the tip around his eye, lining it with bold strokes. And then there’s his sister’s mascara, and some purple eyeshadow from Karl’s days as a stagehand—he touches them on lightly, enamoured by the way it settles smooth and cold against his skin.
Dream blinks at himself in the mirror. With the makeup, his eyes pop, dark and piercing, a perfect match to the black fabric of the dress. He runs his hands over the velvet folds, pinching them between his fingers in sudden nervousness.
“Okay,” he reassures himself, slightly unnerved that the beautiful costumed person in the mirror reflects his voice back at him. “Okay.”
Pulling on the tights from the costume set (and wow are they tight), Dream finishes the look with his black combat boots, and opens the bathroom door.
Punz is sitting in the living room, scrolling through his phone. The cloak fits his broad shoulders, falling elegantly around his figure. His hair is swept up in just the right way, his collar fitted crookedly around his neck, and Dream thinks Punz looks like magic.
“You look nice,” he offers, waiting for Punz to notice his entrance. Punz’s eyes snap up to him in less than a second.
“Holy shit, you’re fucking hot,” he blurts out, and Dream fights the immediate blush rising on his neck. He can feel Punz’s gaze tracing the curve of his waist, slow and wanting, sliding up to meet his eyes.
“I mean—you look, you look good,” Punz backtracks, rubbing a hand behind his head. Dream grins, bubbly; Punz makes him feel like he’s glowing. “Uh. I’m glad it fits.”
“Sure you don’t want to trade?” Dream teases.
“God no, Dream, please keep that on,” Punz responds, getting up from the coach. The wizard robes make him look taller, somehow. “You look amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Dream returns, scanning Punz’s outfit. “I think we make a good pair.”
“We’re winning Halloween,” Punz declares. “Sapnap is going to eat his words.”
Dream giggles. “It’s not a competition, idiot.”
“Hold on,” Punz says, ignoring him and digging his phone out of his pocket, “we need to take a picture. To prove that we’re better.”
“Okay,” Dream concedes easily.
Punz runs a hand through his hair in preparation, and Dream’s heart jumps when he wraps an arm around him. Pressed up against each other, he can feel the warmth of Punz’s body against his side.
Holding his phone up in front of their faces, Punz captures them with the simple click of a button. It’s quick and simple and Dream is afraid of how lovestruck he might look in that one photo. Punz silently slips his phone back into his robes, and squeezes Dream’s shoulder as he steps away.
“You ready to go, baby?” It slips out of Punz’s mouth like a secret, hushed and soft and a little too real. They both freeze, caught in an accident of eye contact, afraid to look away. Was that too far? Was that too much?
Did you like it too?
“Yes,” Dream breathes, barely moving. Carefully, as if handling glassware, Punz puts a hand on the small of his back, grounding him with the weight of one scorching palm. Dream tries not to sink too much into it as he folds back into Punz’s side, guided forward by the gentle pressure.
They talk in anything but words on the short walk to Sapnap’s place.
It’s dark enough that their pinkies can brush as they walk alongside each other and excuse it as a product of the night. Punz can fix Dream’s hair, fingers brushing his scalp tenderly—so his costume looks more complete, of course—and Dream might smooth a hand over Punz’s collar with the excuse of straightening the fabric.
The moon makes them brave as they walk past glowing jack o'lanterns and ghosts hanging from trees. Dream dares to wish that Punz wants this too, when he steadies Dream after he stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, hovering close the rest of the way there.
The neighborhood is relatively quiet, whispering occasionally with the distant shriek of excited children. They stop in front of Sapnap’s door, studying their carved pumpkins on the doorstep from two days prior. A bowl of candy sits at their feet with a hastily written post-it note reading: Take one three ONE TWO!!
“Trick or treat,” Punz whispers, leaning around him to stab at the doorbell. They stand there for perhaps thirty seconds before the door is flung open with a bang.
“Hello!” Karl chirps. He’s wearing a bunny onesie with cat ears. “You guys look great, come on in!”
The party inside is small but loud. A woman screams on the TV, with indistinct conversation and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” overlapping in the background. Orange streamers hang around the doorframes, candy wrappers strewn across the floor. Dream can see various sweets on the kitchen counter, and Quackity passes by carrying a glass filled with a bubbling neon green liquid.
It’s spooky and warm and wonderfully cozy. Dream lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and follows Punz into the living room.
Sapnap comes up to them, wearing a bulky square costume with yellow-brown fabric peeling from the front of it. “What the hell,” he says around a mouthful of chocolate, “Why are you, like, hot?”
“Thanks,” Dream says dryly, and tries not to react when Punz’s hand settles protectively on his back. “Are you supposed to be the peanut butter half of the sandwich?”
Sapnap nods enthusiastically. “I was going to put actual peanut butter on the front, but George said that would be too messy.”
“Thank god at least one of you has common sense,” Punz mutters from behind Dream. “You’re a dumbass,” he tells Sapnap.
“Says you,” Sapnap returns with the same heat. “Come sit down.”
He leads them into the heart of the party, plopping down on one side of the couch and inviting them to sit. There’s candy wrappers scattered across the couch, with accompanying chocolate stains that make Dream feels unfairly guilty for. The movie is some horror flick; the man onscreen has a lot of very fake blood on the side of his head. It’s disjointed and comfortable and Dream thinks it’s perfect.
Punz flops down on the couch next to Sapnap, robes spilling gracelessly over the furniture. “C’mere Dreamie.”
“Don’t call me that,” Dream says, and squeezes in next to Punz. It’s a tight fit with three grown men sharing a small couch, and Dream has to lean onto Punz’s chest in order to stay on the couch. His legs are cramped together painfully.
“What would you prefer, darling?” Punz teases, casually repositioning Dream’s leg to lay over his own thigh. While it’s a lot more comfortable, Dream is now half-sitting in Punz’s lap, his cheeks burning bright red as Punz smiles down at him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Dream murmurs, adjusting his dress so it covers as much of his legs as possible. His heart is racing, like the fingers drumming desperately on his knee. He tries not to think about how warm and safe he feels under Punz’s arm, or how Punz smells like salt and hot chocolate and moonlight and everything good in the world.
Punz rubs tiny circles into his shoulder, speaking softly. “Just relax and enjoy the movie.”
“It’s a horror movie.”
“Dream.”
He turns his attention back to the TV screen for all of five seconds, watching as the main character creeps through a dark row of cabinets, before the music suddenly tenses and the antagonist flashes out of the shadows with a knife.
Dream startles badly, physically jerking backwards as the villain scream bloody murder onscreen. Punz laughs, tugging at Dream’s balled fists.
“I didn’t take you for a scaredy-cat,” he taunts lightheartedly. “It’s okay, it’s not real.”
“I like a little adrenaline,” Dream defends. “Nothing wrong with a little heart attack.”
“Are you sure you’re not scared?” Punz asks with a knowing grin. He presses two fingers to the underside of Dream’s wrist and Dream gulps, feeling his heart speed up as Punz holds his arm in place, testing his pulse. “Your heartbeat’s going pretty fast.”
“I’m not scared,” Dream says quietly, looking Punz straight in the eyes. Punz’s blue eyes sharpen, completely focused on Dream, and Dream feels his heart pounding in his ears, very aware that Punz is still holding his wrist—holding Dream’s heart in his hands.
“You shouldn’t be scared,” Punz replies lowly, bending closer. There is everything and nothing between them; mere centimeters separate their faces, a million words denote their friendship. Dream’s gaze flicks to Punz’s mouth, desire and nervousness clogging his throat, nerves sparking as the hand Punz's had on his shoulder moves up to rest on the back of his neck.
“I—”
Karl suddenly appears in Dream’s periphery, draping himself between them over the back of the couch. “Woah, didn’t mean to interrupt your makeout session, Jesus Christ.”
Punz’s hand falls away and he leans back into the couch cushions, replacing a semi-respectable distance between them. Dream blinks, processing. His heart twinges.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt—your mother,” Dream retorts lamely. Karl snickers.
“Nice comeback, nice comeback, I don’t think I’m ever going to recover from that one.” Karl’s tone is dripping in sarcasm. Dream looks to Punz for help.
“You might be cute, but I don’t know if I can defend you here,” he says, lifting a casual shoulder as if his statement didn’t just send Dream’s heart into a new frenzy.
“Punz my beloved,” Karl exclaims, pressing a swift kiss to the top of Punz’s head. For some reason, that makes Dream’s stomach churn uneasily, but Karl gets up from the couch, exiting their little bubble as quickly as he had arrived.
Suddenly, Punz leans closer, a dangerous edge in his eyes. “I bet I’m a better kisser than Karl,” he breathes into Dream’s ear, voice low and breath close and husky against Dream’s neck. “Or his mother.”
“Bold claim.” Dream swallows. “Have you got any proof?”
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Puunz takes Dream’s hand between his own, gently smoothing a thumb over his knuckles. Dream watches, transfixed, as Punz raises his hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to his palm.
“I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that,” Punz whispers, and Dream gazes at him, starstruck and ruined by shivers of tenderness. Blue light from the TV highlights Punz’s cheekbones like a natural blush, and Dream wants to cradle his face between his hands and kiss his eyelashes and tell him beautiful, you’re beautiful, you beautiful, wonderful boy.
“Do you want to go trick or treating?” he asks instead.
Punz startles at the sudden change in topic, face twisting in confusion. “I think we’re too old to be doing that.”
“Maybe you are.” Dream pokes his chest, smiling when Punz turns in indignation. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
___
Trick or treating doesn’t go very well.
Most houses have closed their doors to the public by midnight, and Punz and Dream wander through the neighborhood with minimal success. Punz comes back from one house with the entire bowl of candy and a devious grin, and Dream has to smack him in shock and send him back. “They said to take ONE!”
Still, it's a nice night. The moon makes cold shadows on the ground, exquisite silver filtering through the trees. The wind smudges them every so often, and Dream quickens his pace to catch the next break in the clouds, chasing the light. He nudges closer to Punz, concentrating on their shadows and angling his palm just so, subtle.
“What are you doing?” Punz asks, looking quizzically at him.
“Our shadows,” Dream says, bright with Halloween sweets and Punz’s attention, “they’re holding hands.”
Punz stops walking to study the pavement for a moment, and Dream watches as the shadow of Punz’s pinky finger extends to wrap about his own. Focusing on the disturbance in the light, Dream is surprised when he feels a warm hand envelop his. He snaps his head up to see Punz smile gently, squeezing his hand.
“This is much better, don’t you think?” Punz asks. Dream wants to characterize his voice as affectionate, but he simply nods and they continue down the street.
They’re almost back at Dream’s house now, he can see the front door from where they are, fake candles still flickering in the windowsill. With every step they take, his lungs get heavier, his heart riskier. It feels like they’re approaching an end to the mystery and the daring of the night, a refuge and a reality, and all at once Dream wants to stop. He swallows, peeking at Punz and gripping his hand a little tighter.
They pause on the steps, feet still rooted in sidewalk shadow. Punz turns to him, face upturned with something playful and inquisitive.
“Did you really want to go trick or treating?” he asks.
“No,” Dream confesses, eyes wide and heart open. “I just wanted to go trick or treating with you.”
“Trick or treating,” Punz murmurs, smiling, leaning close—closer. Dream doesn’t pull away. Their foreheads skim over each other. “Do you have a treat for me, baby?”
Dream shudders at the endearment, heart rate picking up, remembering every moment of Punz’s hands on him tonight. “As if you haven’t been teasing me all night,” Dream whispers, lips ghosting over Punz’s, trembling slightly in the cold of the front porch. “This isn’t some kind of Halloween trick, right?”
“No,” Punz says firmly, and slips his hands to rest on Dream’s waist, fingers caressing his sides lightly. Dream melts into him, grabbing for his shoulders, and Punz tilts his head down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Dream’s mouth. “No. I like you, idiot.”
“Oh,” Dream mumbles. His brain has gone all fuzzy, and all he can focus on is Punz breathing against his lips, chocolate and cherry. “I like you too,” he says shyly, darting up to place his own fleeting kiss on Punz’s lips. “Romantically. If that’s okay.”
“Dream,” Punz laughs into his mouth. Dream is swallowed by his quicksilver grin and the way Punz pulls him closer, tangling a hand in his hair to kiss him harder. “You’re so cute,” Punz says, carefully tucking a stray piece of hair behind Dream’s ear, knuckles brushing his temple.
“You’re beautiful,” Dream exhales in a rush, fingers closing on Punz’s robes, and smiles at Punz’s blush, a pretty flood of pink across his cheeks.
“Kiss me,” Punz demands, playing with the edge of Dream’s neckline. “Kiss me now.”
Dream pulls him up the stairs and into the house, giggling when Punz immediately cages him against the doorway, nosing against his jaw, teeth scraping over his exposed neck. “Happy Halloween, Punz.”
“Happy Halloween, sweetheart.”