Nico wasn’t sure how he let you talk him into this. Halloween had never been his thing—too many fake ghosts, too much forced excitement. It all felt like a cheap imitation of the things he dealt with on a daily basis. But here you were, grinning like an idiot as you hung up decorations in the dimly lit apartment you two were crashing in for the night, acting like this was some grand event instead of just an excuse to eat stolen candy and watch bad horror movies.

He watched from his place on the couch, curled up in his usual all-black attire, one knee pulled up to his chest. His fingers idly traced the rim of his half-full mug of hot chocolate (which he wouldn’t admit you made perfectly, but he still drank it every time). You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite—loud, bright, bouncing between tasks like an overexcited golden retriever, or more accurately, an obnoxious orange cat.

“Y’know, I don’t get why you’re so into this,” he muttered, watching as you struggled to untangle a string of fake cobwebs. “It’s just another night. Except now there’s more sugar and bad costumes involved.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, eyes glinting with mischief. “Says the guy who literally hangs out with skeletons on a daily basis.”

Nico rolled his eyes, hiding the way the corner of his mouth twitched. “At least my skeletons don’t sing ‘Monster Mash’ and try to make me bob for apples.”

You huffed dramatically before flopping onto the couch beside him, draping yourself over his lap like a cat seeking attention. “Admit it, you’re having fun,” you teased, poking his arm.

He stared down at you, unimpressed. “I tolerate it.”

“You love it.”

“Not a chance.”

You grinned, knowing you’d won. He sighed, setting his mug aside before running a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath about annoying orange cats who had no concept of personal space. But when you nestled closer, warmth radiating between you, he decided—just this once—not to push you away.