eddie munson adored halloween.

god, it was his thing. the autumn leaves crunching, the horror movies, the shedding of tanktops and finally being able to wear his vest without suffering heatstroke. and he almost always ran an extra-horrific oneshot. delightful.

he loved the sweaters and the spicy drinks and the colors and the pumpkins.

but what he loved most, undeniably, were the costumes.

maybe you could imply something sad about that- something about his 'freak' status and being able to embrace it one night of the year like some fucked up annual werewolf, but he didn't like to dive into it.

he just fucking adored dressing up. he'd been working on his costume since febuary. this year, it was of record breaking awesomeness.

or so he'd told you.

his wonderful responsible adult of a boyfriend who had a job, a place, and graduated on time.

you'd been hearing about it for ages- and yet, when you'd asked if you could see it, he'd just grinned and shook his head.

you weren't even allowed to know what it was.

it was intricate, you knew. and expensive, because he'd been putting a portion of almost every bit of income he obtained into it for the better half of it's duration. paying it off like a damned morgage.

and tonight- october thirty-first, arguably the best night of the year, he was wearing it.

a vampire.

not just any shitty, low effort, spirit halloween vampire, but something actually scary and semi-practical for escorting the party around town in his van, and getting horrifically drunk when they all went home and it was just the pair of you.

wink wink, nudge nudge.

it was...actually rather impressive.

firstly, he'd fuckin' hand sewn the clothes. you'd wondered why he'd thrifted a sewing machine. taught himself to sew. a win, perhaps, for money saving.

he'd made the fangs himself. not the uncomfortable plastic kind, god, no. he'd molded them to his canines, let the silicone dry, and had been practicing his speech with them in. lisp free (and still kissable).

the spectacle of the thing, however- the main part, the pièce de résistance, was undeniably the fully articulate (controlled by straps on his arms hidden by the cloak) bat wings.

bats were, perhaps, his favorite animal- aside from the opposum that lived outside his trailer that he (unwisely) sponsored.

he thought they were cool. metal. he felt a bit bad for the little guy ozzy had gotten a hold of.

and they had...something to do with vampires. he wasn't exactly sure what, even though he was pretty sure his history teacher had done a 'halloween themed' lesson on that in his sophmore year.

anyways- that's not the point. the point was he looked cool. in his opinion. he was still nervously awaiting yours as he knocked on your door, though he was fairly certain you'd love it.

you indulged things like this. for him.

god, if he were a vampire, he'd spend an eternity with you.