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When Kisaki gets a text from Hanma at six in the evening after a long day, he is more than prepared to ignore it. It’s after his ‘willing to put up with people’ hours and he just wants to read a book.
But then his phone buzzes again. And again, and again. When he finally picks it up, his whole screen is covered in notifications ranging from emojis to all-caps yelling.
There’s no point in making any sense of it. Kisaki swipes to Hanma’s contact and hits Call, holding the phone to his ear impatiently.
Hanma picks up immediately. “Kisaki, I need you!” He sounds out of breath.
“Ew. Use your hand.” Kisaki puts the call on speaker and tosses his phone onto his bed.
“No, not like that—unless you’re offering. You need to come over!”
“Based on past experience, I assume you’re not going to tell me why?”
“Just come quick, it’s important!”
“Are you dying?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, then maybe I’ll see you there.” He hangs up before Hanma can say any more. Somewhere along the way, Kisaki’s ability to resolutely say no to Hanma has faltered. He finds himself thinking fuck it, he has nothing better to do, so why not indulge him?
Sighing to himself, he gets dressed and makes the familiar walk to Hanma’s place. Most days they end up at Kisaki’s just because it’s nicer and he has more food to snack on, but he’s gone to Hanma’s a handful of times. Usually, he’s too distracted to pay attention to the state of things, for… various reasons.
He pauses on Hanma’s doorstep with his phone in hand to text his arrival, but the front door swings open before Kisaki gets a chance to fully rethink his decision.
“Happy Hanma-ween!” Hanma exclaims, an excited grin on his face as he looms over Kisaki.
Kisaki gives him a once-over. He’s wearing a suspicious purple bathrobe hanging open over his bare chest, even though his dry hair suggests he hasn’t bathed. In front of his hips, he’s holding an almost comically large pumpkin.
“Kisaki,” Hanma leans forward slightly, putting a hand next to his mouth. “This is the part where you say ‘trick or treat’,” he whispers.
“Hanma.” Kisaki very calmly looks him directly in the eye. “If your dick is inside that pumpkin, so help me god, I am never speaking to you again.”
“Oh.” Hanma looks down in mild surprise, like he’d forgotten the very thing that was in his hands. “You think it is?” He sounds almost innocent.
“With you, I can only expect the worst,” Kisaki mutters. He wouldn’t be surprised if Hanma invited him over just to do something like that.
“Hmm, well, I guess you wouldn’t know whether it is or isn’t inside the pumpkin until you look, right? Like that thing—what is it?—Schneider’s cat, or something?”
“Schrödinger,” Kisaki corrects, then pauses. “Wait, what?”
“You know, the thing with the cat that’s both alive and dead.”
“I know that. Why do you know that?” The last thing Kisaki would expect Hanma to have any interest in or knowledge of is quantum mechanics.
Hanma just shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone? It’s one of those things everyone’s heard of but no one actually gets.”
Alright, well, that’s true, but now Kisaki feels like an idiot, so he’s ignoring it. Luckily, Hanma is on the same page as him.
“Anyways, you should open it and see.” He gestures with his chin at the top of the pumpkin, which has been carved off and placed back on top as a lid.
“I am not doing that,” Kisaki retorts, mildly horrified. They’re still in the doorway! Hanma’s utter lack of regard for public decency astounds him.
“You’re not curious?”
Kisaki has seen it before, so no, actually… not here, at least.
He must have failed to completely convey rejection on his face, because Hanma suddenly grins again and changes his grip on the pumpkin, one hand on the bottom and one on the lid.
“Wait, no—” Kisaki panics, urgently shoving himself through the doorway and trying to push Hanma back into the house before he can do something stupid. Tragically, Hanma is a foot taller and much stronger than him.
“Tada~!” Hanma flourishes, lifting the lid to reveal the contents of the pumpkin.
Candy. It’s just fucking candy. In fact, Hanma isn’t even holding the pumpkin right in front of his crotch anymore. His dick is safely contained in his boxers.
“Hah! I tricked you! I got you, Kisaki!” He dances in place, tucking the lid under his arm and grabbing a sour blue licorice strip from the pumpkin. Tearing the plastic open with his teeth, he puts the whole thing in his mouth and chews loudly. Kisaki is truly baffled by the last few minutes. Who uses a real pumpkin as a candy bowl?
“Hey, if you were just gonna stare down there, I don’t get why you were so worked up about the idea of my dick in a pumpkin!” Hanma pouts, setting the pumpkin against his hip. “You can still see it, though, since you haven’t gotten your treat yet.” He winks and nudges his robe further open with his knee.
Kisaki scoffs and shoves his hand into the bowl, withdrawing a fistful of candy and finally shoving past Hanma to stomp up the stairs to his room. He rolls his eyes when he hears Hanma giggle and follow him.
He plops himself in the center of Hanma’s bed while Hanma takes a seat cross legged on the floor—their usual configuration when Kisaki comes over—and rips open a mini Twix to take a bite out of it. “So, why’d you ask me to come here?”
Hanma whistles, chewing on another piece of licorice, red this time. “I mean, I did have something else in mind, but my offer’s still on the table. It’s only fair after the birthday present you gave me last week—”
“Shut up,” Kisaki says, face going red. He should’ve known that would come back to bite him. “And put some clothes on, you freak.”
“Prude,” Hanma teases, sticking his tongue out. He gets up to grab his typical too-short black pants and white henley combination. “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend that you’re innocent when you’re with me! The truth stays between us.”
“I hate you.”
“Strange words coming from someone in my bed.”
Hanma must see the rage rising in Kisaki’s face, sticking his hands up placatingly. “Alright, alright! I just wanted to go trick-or-treating together.” Now, the innocent look on his face really does match his words.
“We’re in high school.”
“Okay, and?”
“Don’t you think we—especially you—are a little too old for that?”
“Please, there’s no age limit for joy and candy.” Hanma emphasizes his point by shaking his bowl.
“I’m pretty sure most people would slam the door the second they saw you on their doorstep.”
“Then we just hit the houses that put those giant-ass bowls outside because they can’t be bothered to answer the door.”
Kisaki sighs. “You really want to go, don’t you?”
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
Well. There’s no real reason not to, since Kisaki had finished his assignments and didn’t have any chores left. It’s a weeknight, but it’s not like it’s late. Hanma’s puppy dog eyes have a surprisingly strong effect for someone so un-puppylike.
Or… maybe he’s wrong about that? Kisaki has noticed that Hanma always gets excited about inane things at random times, that he sticks loyally to Kisaki’s side even when he doesn’t want him there, and that he, well, he drools a lot. Maybe that’s just around Kisaki. He thinks a tail wagging frantically wouldn’t look so out of place on Hanma.
“Hellooo, earth to Kisaki?”
Kisaki blinks back to awareness and shakes off the mental image of Hanma wearing a collar. Weird train of thought.
“Fine, let’s go.” Kisaki hasn’t been trick-or-treating since his old nanny used to take him around their neighborhood, to all the big fancy houses with their big fancy candy bars. He never hated it, but it wasn’t exciting either. He’s never gone with someone around his age before.
Hanma surges forward and pulls Kisaki right off the bed, making him stumble. “You’re the best, Kisaki!” He yanks Kisaki in by their connected hands and plants a kiss on his mouth before releasing him. “We need costumes!”
Kisaki is dazed for a moment before he registers the words. “You better not even be thinking about going out dressed like you were earlier,” he threatens.
“What, you didn’t like it?”
“Somehow, I don’t think ‘child predator’ is the best look to go for.”
“Aww, you know the only person I wanna prey on is you, Kisaki.”
“...Any decent person would have turned you in to the police by now.”
“Good thing you’re as indecent as I am, then, huh? But worry not, I have something even better!” Hanma rummages around in his closet until he finds what he’s looking for, pulling out what just looks like a long sheet of black fabric. It’s only once Hanma actually puts it on that Kisaki realizes what he’s supposed to be.
“The Grim Reaper, really? There’s a million of those.”
Hanma pulls the sleek hood up over his head, casting a shadow over the eerie grin rising on his face. “But no one does it better than me.”
He does look pretty good. Kisaki’s not telling him that, though. “Do you even have a scythe?”
“I’ve got this shitty plastic thing,” he replies, pulling out a prop that’s not even as tall as himself. It looks pathetic, and Kisaki snorts. “It sucks, I know! But it’s kinda funny at the same time.”
“It looks like you stole it from a child.”
“Halloween costumes just don’t account for larger than life people like me. It’s discrimination, truly,” Hanma laments.
“How sad,” Kisaki says dryly.
“So, what are you gonna be?” Hanma asks him.
Kisaki upturns his empty hands. “Does it look like I brought anything?”
“What, you really don’t have a costume?” Hanma gapes.
“Maybe if you hadn’t invited me over at the last minute and only told me what we’re doing after I already got here.” It’s hardly Kisaki’s fault.
“Okay, okay, we can improvise.” Hanma rubs his index finger and thumb over his chin, surveying the state of his room. If he can procure a decent costume from this mess, Kisaki will honestly be impressed. “Oh!”
The sudden exclamation is followed by Hanma darting out of the room, and reentering ten seconds later with a roll of toilet paper in each hand.
“That’s your innovative idea?” Kisaki balks.
“If reapers are a classic, so are mummies! We can be old school.”
Fuck it. What does he have to lose? “Wrap me up then, I guess.”
Hanma nods eagerly and gets to wrapping Kisaki’s limbs in the paper, doing a surprisingly meticulous job of layering it up and tucking the ends into Kisaki’s clothes so they don’t come undone. By the end of it, Kisaki almost feels like he’s wearing another layer of clothing.
He walks to the mirror Hanma has propped up against the wall and stares at himself. “I look like the Michelin Man, not a mummy.”
“Maybe I should’ve grabbed the emergency one-ply instead,” Hanma giggles. “It looks fine, though! It’s already getting late, so we should go.”
Hanma grabs two empty pillow cases out of the closet to use as bags and hands one to Kisaki, already heading for the stairs. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
Kisaki trudges after him, grumbling, “It’d be so much easier to just go buy candy.”
“Don’t be so boring!” Hanma swings open the door and barely waits for Kisaki to follow. “Free stuff always tastes better. Not to mention all the rare grandma candies!”
Those, Kisaki remembers fondly. There’s nothing quite like the strawberry wrapped hard candies that didn’t seem to exist any other time of year. He can’t even remember the taste, now.
The first few streets they follow away from Hanma’s place are relatively empty and dark, but soon enough they start seeing lights and decorations and little kids running around.
“I wanna steal that spider,” Hanma comments, pointing at a giant wire spider propped up on one roof.
Kisaki grimaces at the sheer size of it. They did an unnervingly detailed job making the eyes and fuzzy legs. “You’re on your own.”
“Let’s see if they’ve got anything else good.” As they reach the property, Hanma stomps up to the door and knocks on it incessantly, ignoring the doorbell button.
“Trick or treat!” Hanma shouts as the door opens, voice comically deep.
“Oh…! And what are you two dressed up as?” the lady asks fake-sweetly, clearly overcompensating for the grimace Kisaki spotted when she first saw them.
“Use your eyes,” Hanma replies, shoving his hand in her bowl and ignoring the couple of candies she was holding out to drop into his bag. He drops his fistful into his pillowcase and hops down the porch steps while Kisaki splutters.
“Um,” Kisaki says, not even holding his bag out because of how embarrassing it is. But he’s not gonna apologize to some stranger, especially not on Hanma’s behalf, so he just leaves empty handed.
He’s not sure why Hanma invited him if he’s going to keep on charging ahead. “The hell was that?” Kisaki asks when he catches up.
“What? It’s not that hard to see what we are. I came for treats, not a conversation.” Hanma spins his scythe around in circles in one hand before glancing over at Kisaki. “You didn’t get any candy? Here, take mine.”
“No, it’s fine—” But he already has most of what he grabbed in his hand again, and dumps it into Kisaki’s bag.
“You’re confusing as hell,” Kisaki shakes his head. Does Hanma want the candy or not?
“You know what they say, always gotta keep ‘em guessing.”
Hanma opts to be only slightly more polite at the following houses, though still taking way more candy than he should. Only a few streets in, and his pillowcase already looks full to bursting. Kisaki’s, by contrast, is only about a quarter filled.
It seems like Hanma is starting to get bored, if the way his scythe-spinning gets more erratic tells Kisaki anything. He would’ve hit a kid in a Super Sentai costume if not for Kisaki yanking him back in time.
On the next doorstep, Kisaki’s about to tell Hanma they should head home soon, but the door opens up before he can.
“Merry Christmas!” Hanma says without missing a beat.
Kisaki snorts hard, caught off guard enough that he starts coughing. The couple in the house look confused, holding out a bowl hesitantly.
“I just think other holidays should have this whole door-to-door thing, too, don’tcha think?” Hanma asks them. “Oh, I guess carolers are a thing… I’ll try another holiday at the next place.” He scoops up his candies without giving them a chance to respond, while Kisaki grabs a few with a small nod.
“Happy Halloween…?” the woman says, closing the door once they’re done.
“You’re ridiculous,” Kisaki laughs. Hanma smiles at him, laughing too. “I wonder when you’ll be put on a neighborhood watch list for public disturbance.”
“Halloween is, like, the best holiday for being a disturbance.”
Hanma happily sings Christmas carols to himself in off-key English as he traipses down the street as a grim reaper with a too-tiny scythe. That’s not a sentence Kisaki ever expected he’d have to string together. He commits the sight of it to memory.
Inevitably, Hanma’s grip on his weapon slips and it flies behind him. Kisaki isn’t sure how exactly his reflexes make him catch it, but he does. It’s pretty smooth.
“Woah, thanks,” Hanma says, making grabby hands for it. Kisaki swings it out of his reach, then hooks the curve of the fake blade around Hanma’s neck. He uses it to pull Hanma down closer to him.
“Careful, you might hurt somebody,” Kisaki warns, voice flat as he raises a brow.
Hanma grins, a slight redness in his cheeks. “My bad. Forgive me?”
It’s a prime opportunity, and there’s hardly anyone around to see them. Fuck it, he thinks for the third time that night, digging the prop into Hanma’s skin and yanking him down to eye level. He barely gives Hanma a second to giggle before pressing their lips together.
The October chill leaves Kisaki with the warmth of the short kiss, embarrassed by his own forwardness but appreciative of the large hands resting on his sides.
“A reaper shouldn’t be consorting with humans, you know,” Hanma murmurs against his lips. Not like he’s trying to create any distance between them, anyways.
“I’m dead, remember?” Kisaki tugs at the wrappings around his neck. “It doesn’t make a difference.”
“Still, I’ll always make an exception for you.” Hanma nips playfully at Kisaki’s lips.
Kisaki unhooks the scythe and flips it around, using the blunt end to jab Hanma in the ribs. “How unprofessional of you.”
Hanma laughs and rubs at the spot. “You wound me, Kisaki.” Kisaki lets him take the prop back from him, taking care to swing it in a much more controlled manner. They leave their little bubble on the corner of the street, continuing on their trek for candy.
“Do you do this every year?” Kisaki asks, looking down at the ground and the tattered toilet paper fluttering around his legs. He thinks about Hanma dragging other friends on this adventure with him instead of Kisaki, dressing them up and pranking unsuspecting people all night. Maybe they’d sing with him, instead of trailing awkwardly behind like Kisaki.
“Hm?” Hanma raises his scythe and props it across the back of his shoulders with a hand around both ends. “Nah. I just thought it would be fun with you.”
“Oh.”
“Usually, I just steal some kid’s bag and call it a night.”
Kisaki can’t help it, he laughs. Hanma’s pulled so many stupid surprises tonight, Kisaki feels like he’s learned more about him in one evening than in all the time they’ve known each other.
After a couple hours, the streets start to quiet down as curfew approaches for most children. Most houses have taken their candy bowls back inside and turned the lights off, a clear signal of don’t bother us.
“Hey, let’s go egg some houses.” Hanma throws a Jawbreaker wrapper to the ground and crunches on it loudly. The fuck, did he just break it with his teeth?
“What, really? If you get arrested, I’m pretending I don’t know you.”
But there’s no real protest in it, and Kisaki follows Hanma to the convenience store anyway. The cashier squints at them suspiciously when all they check out is four cartons of eggs, but it’s not like she can stop them. Hanma snickers and winks at her.
Hanma has some seriously awful ideas, but when Kisaki chooses to go along with them, he supposes he doesn’t have the right to criticize too much.
“Any particular place you have in mind, or are you choosing your victims at random tonight?” Kisaki asks.
Hanma hums in thought. “A little of both, I suppose. The real egg-able houses just call out to you, you know?”
He doesn’t, but sure.
Hanma sizes up each house they pass, some criteria unknown to Kisaki in his mind to determine the unlucky winner. Kisaki watches him warily as he somehow manages to balance his scythe and pillowcase along with his half of the egg cartons.
He’s not sure how far they’ve walked when Hanma finally comes to a stop and points his scythe up triumphantly at the house in front of them. “This one shall do nicely!”
The house’s lights all seem to be off. Either they’re out or they’re asleep; regardless, they’ll have an unpleasant surprise on their hands. “What makes it so special?”
“Just a feeling,” Hanma shrugs. He lets his weapon clatter to the ground to crack open a carton. He picks an egg out and weighs it in his hand, assessing it as if it might be lesser than the rest of the dozen. “Would you like to do the honors?” he asks, holding it out to Kisaki.
Kisaki shakes his head and gestures at the house. “By all means.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Hanma grins. He hurls the first egg as hard as he can, and they hear it shatter in the night against the face of the house. “Your turn.”
Lightly bouncing an egg in his palm, Kisaki strategizes where to throw it. He makes his mark with a satisfying splat dead center on a window.
“Woo, nice!” Hanma crows, clapping his hands and exploding the egg he forgot he was holding. “Oops.” He shakes out his hands and Kisaki sidesteps the gooey splatter that almost lands on him.
“Be a little more careful, would you?” Kisaki gripes.
“I think we’re a little past that point. Even you got your hands dirty! Metaphorically.”
Kisaki rolls his eyes and grabs another. They have a lot of eggs, he realizes. He’s glad he’s not the person who’ll have to deal with cleaning up the aftermath. He throws again, cackling when egg bits go flying, even landing on bushes and the sidewalk.
They easily go through a carton and start on their second without a care in the world, but Kisaki takes a moment to look around and make sure no one has come outside without them realizing.
“Wait,” Kisaki pauses, finally noticing the street signs where they are. “Is this—”
A window loudly screeches open. “Kisaki?! And— and Hanma?”
“Heya, Hanagaki!” Hanma salutes, and lo and behold, Kisaki looks at the upstairs window to see light shining from it, Takemichi looking outside in distress. “Just wanted to pay ‘ya a visit.”
“Why?!”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“No!”
“Aww, don’t be like that.”
“Are you—” Takemichi moves so that his face is right behind the egg on his window, staring at it. “Are you egging my house?!”
Hanma looks at Kisaki. “I mean, are we?”
Kisaki stares at him, then looks back at Takemichi. “Hard to say.”
Takemichi makes a noise of outrage combined with sadness, and Kisaki wishes the window was a bit closer so he could see the anger in full detail.
“Why are you home, anyways? It’s Halloween,” Kisaki says, as if he hadn’t also been planning a night in.
Takemichi hesitates, looking away. “N-no reason.”
“I bet your girlfriend dumped you,” Hanma guesses. “Having a little pity party?”
“She did not! I got grounded!” Takemichi claps his hands to his mouth right after he says it, regret on his face. It’s understandable, because Hanma doubles over in laughter immediately.
“Dude, you’re like sixteen! The hell did you do to get grounded?!”
“It’s none of your business, okay! Fuck off!” Kisaki can practically feel how badly Takemichi wants to punch Hanma, but then Takemichi’s eyes land on him. “Kisaki, seriously?”
Why the hell does he look betrayed? It’s not like Kisaki has ever been particularly nice to him. Maybe Takemichi thought he was better than this. And maybe he was, once, but Hanma has been anything but a good influence.
It’s the most fun he’s ever had.
“I didn’t realize it was your place, to be fair,” Kisaki comments mildly.
“Oh, yeah right! I know you assholes planned this,” Takemichi laments. “Thanks for making my night worse!”
Suddenly, another egg hits the window, goop splattering right through the mesh screen onto Takemichi’s open-mouthed face.
Kisaki wheezes in surprise. “Oh my god,” he says over Takemichi’s wailing. “Way to hit a man when he’s down.”
“It’s my specialty!” Hanma boasts, flexing his arm pointlessly. Can’t really see it under his baggy cloak, honestly.
“Can you get out of here before I call the cops?” Takemichi sounds almost hysterical, and Kisaki can’t believe how perfectly planned this was—because he knows Hanma didn’t lead them here by accident.
Kisaki tugs on Hanma’s sleeve, still laughing, uncaring of the toilet paper bits that are practically falling off of him by now as they flee from the scene. He looks back to make sure Hanma hadn’t forgotten to pick his scythe back up.
Hanma’s grinning ear to ear, head thrown back in a cackle. There are pieces of candy dropping from his bag every few steps but it’s a sacrifice worth making, and Hanma probably won’t miss them too much.
Somehow, they get back to where they started, running even though it isn’t necessary with the streets now deserted. They lean against the side of Hanma’s place, panting but still shaking with laughter.
Kisaki coughs once and straightens up. “What exactly are we going to do with all these eggs?”
“I could make you a nice morning-after breakfast.”
“That would require there being a morning after.”
“You still don’t wanna, not even after all that flirting?” Hanma pouts, crossing his arms. “That was some kiss back there…”
Kisaki whacks him with his bag of candy. “Sorry, I don’t want to sleep with someone who’s still got raw egg on his hands.”
“I would wash them!”
“Well, let’s just see if you make good on your word, hm?” Grabbing Hanma’s keys from his pocket, Kisaki unlocks the door and lets himself in.
Hanma blinks at him in surprise, then lights up. Kisaki can practically feel him vibrating beside him as he dutifully puts the remaining eggs away in the fridge and watches Hanma obediently wash his hands with soap.
When he’s satisfied, Kisaki makes his way to the part of Hanma’s apartment he’s most familiar with, glancing behind himself to make sure Hanma follows. “You did an alright job dressing me up, but I wonder if you’d be better off doing the opposite?” There’s a blatant suggestion in his voice, and Hanma latches right onto it.
“Treats really are even better than tricks,” Hanma giggles, wrapping his arms around Kisaki’s waist and kicking his bedroom door closed behind them.
—