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“Hey, Moran, wake up!”
Moran felt something that seemed remarkably like a foot poke into his side.
“What the…?” He growled under his breath, keeping his eyes resolutely closed and trying to knock the foot away with his prosthetic hand.
It didn't appear to work. The foot jabbed into his side again.
“Come on, get up!”
Irritation was starting to win out over sleep enough that this time he vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to his boyfriend, soon-to-be ex if he didn't knock it off.
“Hey lazy, get up!” That foot again.
“Go fuck yourself…” He slurred the curse into his pillow which he decided was now his new boyfriend.
“No, I fuck you, which I won't do for a week if you don't get up.”
/That/ got Moran’s attention.
“What the hell!?” He sat up, the sheet sliding down to pool around his bare hips, and blinked blearily at Bond, who was grinning at him and who, Moran saw, with some disappointment, was already fully dressed.
“Come on, it's midnight, get up!”
“The hell are you waking me up at midnight for!?”
“Because,” Bond’s grin grew even wider, mischief dancing in his eyes. “It's midnight on Halloween.”
Moran groaned and flopped back onto the bed, pulling the pillow, which he decided to nickname Bond 2.0, the less annoying version, over his face.
“Halloween doesn't start till sundown.”
“No,” Bond corrected him sounding entirely too happy about it, “people don't start /celebrating/ until sundown but Halloween starts at midnight.”
“So?”
Bond pulled Bond 2.0 Off of Moran’s face. Moran glared up at him and Bond beamed back, looking entirely too awake.
“So if we wait till tonight like everyone else we get one night to prank people and it's the same night every kid and their parents are out on the streets trick-or-treating, but if we go now we get two nights,” Bond wiggled two fingers in front of Moran’s eyes, “and tonight we get the streets all to ourselves.”
“Hum…” Bond’s idea was attractive but so was Bond 2.0…
“Come on,” his boyfriend's expression changed from a smile to the sly smirk that always made Moran’s blood heat. “Are you telling me you /don't/ want to TP Mycroft’s entire house?”
/That/ did it. Moran blinked away the last of the sleep from his eyes and met his boyfriend’s smirk with one of his own.
“What are we waiting for?”
What they were waiting for turned out only to be Moran’s need to find clothes. Bond had still been out when the dark-haired man fell asleep and, when he saw the backpacks filled with pranks supplies, he knew why.
***
Mycroft Holmes was Moran’s most annoying friend? Enemy? Something, since college. He was also Moran’s ex’s new boyfriend, the obnoxious older brother of Bond’s best friend, and a professional smartass. He lived in a nice, very boring, house in a nice, very boring, neighborhood, and as Moran stood in the front yard looking at it, he decided that yes, the man could absolutely do with some excitement.
“How high do you think you can get in that?” Moran pointed at the tallest tree on the property, a skinny maple with upper branches that probably would not support Moran’s weight. His boyfriend though…
Bond’s answer was a laugh, meaning that he’d guessed exactly what Moran had in mind. He grabbed one of the backpacks and climbed, quick and nimble, up to the tree’s uppermost branches. Moran took a moment to just enjoy the view then opened the other backpack, ‘borrowed’ Mycroft’s hose, and began filling up the water balloons.
When he'd filled and tied off a dozen of them he looked up to see how Bond was doing and grinned to find that a web of toilet paper now hung from Bond’s tree to the top of the house and down the sides. As he watched Bond tossed another role expertly around the edge of the chimney and down past a window on the far side.
Moran gave him a thumbs up and Bond probably gave him one back but the streetlights didn't eliminate the upper branches enough for him to know for sure. Chuckling to himself at the thought of what the house’s owner would say when he saw the web in the morning, Moran lifted his new arsenal of water balloons and hurried over to the house's front door, balancing four on the lip of the door to fall when it was opened and placing the rest all over the welcome mat.
Behind him there was a soft sliding noise and Moran turned to see Bond dropping the last couple of feet back to the ground. They exchanged grins and Bond held up a long thin black rectangular case.
“Your turn.”
Still grinning Moran grabbed the case and headed for an oak tree on the opposite side of the house, not quite as high as the one Bond had climbed, but with thicker branches. The perfect platform. He slung the case over his shoulder and climbed easily until he found a sturdy branch at just the right angle about halfway up. He settled himself onto it and pulled out the beauty inside, perfectly balanced, perfectly adjustable, excellent scope.
Showtime.
The first paintball bullet hit the balcony just above the front door. Moran spent another couple of shots on it, giving it a whole strip of brand-new paint job in Halloween orange. then he moved to the side of the house, seven shots grouped loosely together created a curve, and eighth shot to the right a bit above them stood in for an eye and a ninth to the upper left finished the smiley face.
…. It also clicked against the window which lit immediately with yellow light as the thick curtain which had hidden the light until then was yanked aside.
“Crap!” It must be Mycroft’s study, and the stupid overworking bastard, was doing exactly what he did best and staying up all night working himself into the grave.
“Bond! Company!” He shouted down to his boyfriend who was busy with the windshield of Mycroft’s car, using shaving cream to draw Mickey Mouse under the name “Mycy-Mouse.”
Bond swore, his hands moving faster with the shaving cream, but he didn't stop. Moran was just about to slide down the tree when the front door flew open with a splatter and a splash, marking the detonation of the water balloons.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!?” Mycroft’s shout probably woke up half the neighborhood, and was fortunately loud enough to completely blot out the sound of Moran roaring with laughter at the sight of the elegant Mr. government in his dressing gown, soaking wet and covered with the remnants of popped water balloons.
“BOND!” Mycroft might not have heard Moran but he definitely saw the slim blonde man trying not to laugh as he finished the last ear on the windshield of his oh so expensive car.
He was so enraged in fact that he focused his whole attention on Bond and didn't think to look up at the trees, big mistake.
The paintball hit him right in the shoulder, mixing with the water to die his dressing gown pumpkin orange, and he spun on the spot, swearing and looking around for Moran.
Bond lept away from the car, making full use of the sniper cover Moran had given him to grab their backpacks from the ground and race for the street. Moran dropped from the tree to the ground, chasing after him, and together they ran laughing into the night.