Work Text:
“You should watch that new movie with me.”
You chuckle. “Which one, Jack-o'-lantern? We live in a golden age of cinema. You're going to have to be a little more specific.”
The scientist leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head with a grin. “Which one do you think I meant? A new Purge movie just came out and you don't think the most conspiratorial guy in your life wants to see it? I mean, how long has it been since we've seen each other? I think you're starting to forget me already.”
You roll your eyes at him before shooting a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody's paying too much attention to you two. The coast is clear, though. It's a lackadaisical day at the lab, and most of the other scientists are lounging around anyway, trying to look busy in case Cam comes in, but otherwise leaning against desks, fraternizing, and playing games on their computers. If you squint, you can make out one guy playing The Oregon Trail.
In all honesty, you should've expected some kind of invite when you mentioned you didn't have any plans this Halloween. Hodgins is the type to initiate things most of the time, and with the rush of cases in the past couple of weeks, you've been playing phone tag with each other in the short stretches between real trauma and horror. You work closely together, sure, but there isn't exactly time to talk while psychoanalyzing killers or collecting larvae. Luckily, today had brought a much needed silence to those voices over your shoulders.
“I mean...I’ve never seen any of the other Purge movies, though.” You point out, mimicking Hodgins’ lack of professional posture. “Isn't there, like, a story? Won't I be lost?” It's a reasonable enough question in your eyes, but he laughs.
“Oh, sweet, sweet (n/n). Are you kidding? Of course not. No horror franchise has retained any sort of plot in their movies in the history of cinema. I thought you of all people would know that, being the only one in this entire institute to have minored in film studies.”
“Fuck you, we did not study bad franchises in film studies! I could out-squint you when it comes to cinematography any day, anyway.” You prod, pretending to adjust invisible glasses.
“Yeah, you wanna bet?” Hodgins stands up as if to challenge you, towering over you with a smirk. “C’mon, I-”
He's interrupted by one unamused Dr. Saroyan passing by with a sigh. “Get back to work, you two.” She interjects, leaving you two to exchange exasperated glances before going back to your desks. She waits until you're at your respective spots to walk away, familiar with your lab rat antics by now.
“Buzzkill.” You mutter when Cam finally leaves, throwing a glare at the back of her head.
“Definitely.”
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“I don't know. It's all just a little...unbelievable, isn't it?” The credits are rolling now, eerie music playing behind the neverending list of names of crew members and technicians. You sit, blank-faced, hovering in a state somewhere between confusion and amusement. “I mean, okay, obviously. But the special effects, CGI -”
Hodgins puts his hand up, stopping you in your tracks. “No, uh uh, I'm not here to dissect anything for once. I'm here to have a good time.” He gives you one last pointed look before popping the disc from the DVD player. “And that - was a pretty good time, if you ask me.” He plops back down on the couch.
“I just think it's interesting how you somehow eat up these garbage franchise films, but still ‘can't find the time’ to watch Donnie Darko with me, is all.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, half joking, half genuine.
“I told you. I don't do sci-fi movies. until screenwriters can learn to do a little research - did they teach you that at film school? - I refuse.” You're both smiling now, caught up in friendly banter. It's been a while since you've been able to hang out outside of work like this - you've missed it.
“Donnie Darko is barely sci-fi. But yeah, let me just write up Richard Kelly and tell him he should've done better research into the concepts of time travel that he made up for the sake of the story.”
“Alright, alright. I'll watch Donnie Darko with you.” He sighs in mock defeat, throwing his hands up. “But only if you agree to...” Jack trails off, frowning as his gaze moves to look over your shoulder. “Do you hear that sound?”
“What sound?” It briefly crosses your mind that he might be fucking with you, but you look behind you anyway, heart still skipping from the final sequences of the film. You would never admit it to Hodgins, but you are a little on edge from the movie, and you don't want to take any chances after some of the things you witnessed tonight.
A second passes. Then another. You don't hear a thing. You're surprised that Hodgins hasn't tried to scare you or anything yet, and turn to find him still staring at the front door, an uneasy, shifty look in his eyes.
“Hodge, c'mon, I don't hear anything. if you're messing with me -”
“Shh! I'm telling the truth, I promise. Just trust me.” Before he can finish speaking, you hear a small thunk by the front door, followed by a rustling sound. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up now - you've seen too many horror movies by now to live through one. You are not trying to traumatize yourself more this weekend. It's the last thing you need after the week you've had.
Hodgins slowly rises to his feet. Perplexed, you reach out and grab his shoulder, stopping him before he can go further. “Why would we go toward the noise?“ You hiss, dragging him back by his shirt. “Have you ever seen a single movie? Ever?”
“I just want to check on it.” He mutters, still looking over at the door. After a beat, he pulls something out of his pocket, lips forming into a comfortable smirk as he looks back at you. It's small but gleams in the low light, silver and sharp. “Besides, I'm not too worried.”
“A pocket knife? Really?” He's already started to walk away, though, and you have no choice but to follow. It's not like you're going to sit by and watch while he gets himself killed. “Hodgins, c'mon!” You curse, rushing forward to flank him.
He puts a hand out to stop you just as you arrive at the door. Thinking fast, you thrust out a shaking hand and grab the walking stick from next to the door, holding it out like a weapon. Hodgins unlocks the door and slowly wraps a hand around the door handle. The door groans as he pulls it toward you two, ever so slowly. You raise the stick up, and -
“Trick or treat!”
A group of five kids stares back at you, each dressed in various superhero costumes. You nearly faint from the wave of relief that washes over you, setting the stick down and trading it for the generous bowl of candy on the stairs. Still shaking, you give the kids each their candy and they run off into the night, streetlights flickering behind them.
You turn to face Hodgins, smirking. “Really?” You cross your arms over your chest, but are shocked to find him standing with a matching, mocking expression, ocean eyes gleaming with equal amusement.
“Mhm. Because you weren't scared at all.” He snorts, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“Was not.” You protest. He only shrugs, turning back to walk to the living room. You furrow your brow, then rush after him, indignant. “Was not!”