You weren’t sure who suggested the costumes first — him as Chucky, you as Tiffany — but Charlie was all in.

He’d grinned the moment you brought it up. “A killer couple, huh? Sounds about right.”

By the time the Halloween party started, you were starting to think it was the perfect idea.

Charlie had gone all out: the striped shirt, the overalls, fake scars slashed across his cheek that looked alarmingly real. He even carried a plastic knife, twirling it between his fingers as if it were an actual weapon. You matched him perfectly in your blonde wig, leather jacket, and lipstick that was just a little too dark.

You hadn’t even made it through the door before people started commenting.

“Merlin, you two look terrifying,” someone laughed. “A bit too good at the murderous lovers thing, don’t you think?”

Charlie just slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer with that familiar smirk. “Yeah,” he said easily, eyes glinting with amusement. “We’ve got the chemistry down, don’t we?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Can you blame me?” he teased, glancing down at you. “You make a terrifyingly attractive partner in crime.”

He was in character all night — pointing his plastic knife at people who teased you, growling playfully when anyone else tried to talk too long, and flashing that wicked grin that made it hard to tell where Chucky ended and Charlie began.

Later, when the music had dipped and most people were too tipsy to notice, he found you again by the drinks table. The fake blood on his cheek had smudged, his curls were a little messy, and that grin of his hadn’t faded one bit.

He leaned down, voice low so only you could hear.

“So, Tiffany,” he murmured, eyes dancing with mischief, “what do you say we cause a little trouble of our own?”

You arched a brow, matching his grin.

“Depends,” you shot back, playing along. “How much trouble are we talking?”

He grinned wider. “Enough to make it a proper Halloween.”