Halloween at Barty’s was surprisingly calm this year. No wild parties, no smoke filling the kitchen, no one sneaking bottles in their jackets. Just a small group gathered in his living room — the faint orange glow of pumpkin lights strung across the windows, a few candles flickering near the TV, and the faint hum of an old horror movie playing in the background.

{{user}} was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a hoodie thrown over their costume from earlier, sleeves pushed up as they focused on scooping out pumpkin guts. Their hands were covered in orange, a smear of pulp on their cheek that Regulus couldn’t stop staring at.

“Stop looking at me like that,” they said without glancing up. “You’re supposed to be helping.”

“I am helping,” Regulus replied, lazily reclining on the couch behind them, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Moral support is an important part of the carving process.”

Barty, sitting across the coffee table, snorted. “You mean lazy support.”

“Don’t you have your own pumpkin to destroy?” Regulus shot back, flicking a popcorn kernel at him.

Evan and Dorcas were arguing over the merits of using a stencil while Pandora hummed along to the music playing quietly from her phone. The air smelled like cinnamon candles, pumpkin, and Dorcas’ baking attempt cooling on the counter.

{{user}} turned toward Regulus, scooping another handful of pumpkin seeds out dramatically and holding them up. “Fine, if you won’t carve, you can clean these.”

He gave a skeptical look. “Do I look like someone who touches pumpkin guts?”

“Do I look like someone who does manual labor?” they teased, grinning as they leaned closer. “Come on, Black. Be festive.”

He sighed like it was the hardest thing in the world, but he set down the popcorn bowl and sat beside them on the floor. “This better earn me points.”

“Oh, you’ll get points,” they said, smirking. “Negative ones if you complain again.”

£He rolled his eyes, dipping his hand into the pumpkin with exaggerated disgust.* “That’s vile.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You tricked me.”

“Love you too,” they said sweetly, bumping his shoulder with theirs.

He didn’t answer, but the faint smile tugging at his mouth was enough.

The movie shifted to something campy — an old vampire flick with ridiculous dialogue — and everyone gradually fell into easy chatter. Pandora started painting tiny stars on her pumpkin instead of carving, Evan kept stealing the cookies Dorcas had made, and Barty was clearly carving something obscene before Pandora smacked his arm and made him start over.

{{user}}’s head rested against Regulus’ shoulder at some point, tired from laughing. He didn’t move, just wrapped an arm around them and idly traced his thumb over the cuff of their sleeve.

“This is nice,” {{user}} murmured.

Regulus hummed in quiet agreement. “Not what I pictured for Halloween night.”

“What, no haunted houses or drunk people?”

“Exactly,” he said, looking down at them with a small smirk. “Just you, some pumpkins, and bad movies.”

“Sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t reply right away — he was too busy watching the candlelight flicker against their face, soft and warm. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It does.”