Archive of Our Own

Susan Pevensie doesn’t really do Halloween.

For one, American celebrations are a bit over-the-top compared to the ones she’d experienced in London. For another, as much as she tries to shove all her memories of Narnia to the very back of her mind, Halloween feels cheap and hollow compared to the Talking Beasts’ autumnal festivals. Most importantly, though, it all reminds her of her siblings. Every spider makes her think of Peter, usually so stoic, failing to hide his fear whenever a creepy-crawly came too close. Pumpkins went into Edmund’s favourite pie, the one he’d eat too much of every year. Little girls dressed as princesses remind her of little Lucy running around their London flat draped in one of their mother’s silk scarves and wearing a flower crown, demanding everyone address her as Princess Lucy. (Why a princess and never a queen, young Susan had wondered. Maybe ‘queen’ felt like too much responsibility. What she wouldn’t give—)

She’s lucky that Kat doesn’t go in much for Halloween, either. They’d spent their first Halloween at Sarah Lawrence in Kat’s dorm room eating caramel popcorn and reading ghost stories, and Susan would be happy to do the same for their second Halloween. But Kat’s sister’s coming to visit, a quick stop on her college tour, and she won’t be dissuaded from seeing “how college girls celebrate Halloween!” 

“Same as high school girls do,” Kat tells her over the phone, rolling her eyes at Susan, who smiles sympathetically. She can imagine telling Lucy the same thing. “Alcohol, stupid decisions, making a fool of themselves to impress boys, and all.” 

Susan can’t hear what Bianca says in reply, but she can hear the younger girl’s wheedling tone. She laughs and goes back to doodling ideas for Kat’s Christmas present in her notebook. 

“What’s in it for me?” Kat asks coolly, pretending to examine her nails, but Susan can already see her beginning to crack. “Hmmmm. Okay, fine. Just so you can get away from Daddy for a night.” 

Kat holds the phone away from her ear, making a face at Bianca’s ear-splitting squeals of delight. 

“You won’t regret this, Kat!” 

“I’m not so sure,” Kat mutters, cautiously bringing the phone back to her ear. “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. I’ll see you then.” 

She hangs up the phone and flops back onto her bed with a sigh. “What have I done, Su?” she asks, lolling her head to one side. 

Susan laughs and shuts her notebook. “You’re being a good sister.”

“Kill me.” Kat puts both hands over her eyes before dragging them down over her face. 

“You had a great time at Franny’s party last weekend,” Susan points out, lying down next to Kat. 

Kat scoots a little closer to Susan in order to use her shoulder as a pillow. “I didn’t have to be a tour guide for my underage sister.”

Susan runs her fingers through Kat’s hair. “True. But I’m sure you’ll have fun.” She props herself up on her elbows and looks down at Kat with a smirk. “I know you like her, despite how much you complain.” 

“Oh, you think you have me figured out, do you?” Kat asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re smiling.” Susan touches one of Kat’s dimples. “You can’t fool me, Katarina Stratford.”

“Oooh, the full name comes out!” Kat sits up, catching both of Susan’s wrists. “Unfair. I can’t call you Susanarina Pevensie.”

Susan’s head falls back as she laughs, making no effort to break free from Kat’s hold on her wrists. “Thank goodness for that!”

“Susanarina,” Kat says thoughtfully, bringing her hands (and Susan’s wrists) down to rest on her bedspread. “It’s not a bad name, all things considered.” 

“You have got to be joking.” Susan slowly shakes her head.

“Nope. I think it’s a great name.” A smile begins to spread across Kat’s face.

“Right.” Susan suppresses her own smile. “Something to consider for your future daughter, then.”

“I’m never having kids!” Kat declares, outraged, and Susan takes the opportunity to free her wrists.

“I know.” Susan smiles and picks up her notebook once more. “I know.”

“So you’re afraid of Simone de Beauvoir?” Susan asks, watching Kat put the finishing touches on her updo. 

Kat opens her mouth before snapping it shut again. “If you’re trying to bait me, it won’t work.”

“You’re learning!” Susan nods approvingly. “But it’s a serious question. Halloween costumes are meant to be scary.”

“Bianca’s hardly afraid of princesses.” Kat points into the other room, where Bianca twirls, admiring her full skirt. 

Susan props her chin on her hand and watches Bianca spin. (She won’t think of Lucy, she won’t think of Lucy—) 

“How do I look?” Kat turns to face Susan, arms wide, a crooked smile on her lips. 

Susan knows her enough to know that despite her sarcastic question, Kat does want to look good, even if just for her— friend (another thought Susan pushes away). She stands up, long bedsheet rustling, and adjusts Kat’s crooked lapels.

“Perfect. You look perfect.” Her hands linger on the fabric over Kat’s collarbone. “Though I’m not sure how many people will recognise your costume.”

Bianca comes in the room, hands on taffeta hips. “That number is zero.” She clucks her tongue at Kat, tilting her head to one side. “It’s not a bad look, though,” she concedes. “Dowdy, but it suits you.” She ducks to avoid the hairbrush Kat throws at her.

“You may be unenlightened, Bianca, but this is Sarah Lawrence.” Kat picks up her satchel and slings it over her shoulder. “The people who matter will know who I am.”

Bianca rolls her eyes at Susan, who smiles fondly. 

“So I didn’t matter, then,” Susan says, picking up her purse, swathed in a tiny ghost costume cut from the corner of her old bedsheet. 

Kat tilts her head to one side, unconsciously mirroring Bianca from earlier, and regards Susan. Her stormy expression softens and a smile breaks through the clouds. “I’ll give you a pass. Just this once.”

Susan has to look away, overwhelmed by a burst of affection.

Per her father’s frantically issued instructions, Kat has to keep an eye on Bianca, but he never said how close an eye. She and Susan take full advantage of his oversight to sit at a picnic table draped in black and orange tablecloths, drinking spiked apple cider and taking in the sights. 

Well, Kat’s taking in the sights. Susan’s mostly admiring the way Kat’s hair, smoothed into a neat roll over the top of her head, shows off her long neck and strong jaw. She picks up her cider and takes a long drink, savouring the warmth in her throat and the loosening of her self-imposed armour. Something about Kat makes her feel safe, and Susan can’t put her finger on exactly what. Perhaps the way Kat is wholly herself, putting herself out there even when she is afraid (and oh, Susan knows she’s afraid), or the way she can be vulnerable, too. 

Susan’s eyes prickle and she keeps her eyes on her cup as she sets it back down on the picnic table.

“Are you okay?” In an instant, Kat’s strident voice softens and she leans forward, putting her hand over Susan’s where it rests on the tablecloth.

Susan turns her hand to better fit with Kat’s, warm from where it wrapped around the cup of cider. “Perfectly.” She smiles at Kat, mood instantly lifted. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Kat searches Susan’s face for a second longer before she looks back at the festivities, scanning the crowd. “Let’s go bob for apples!”

Susan laughs. “You must have had more to drink than I realised.”

Kat’s eyes sparkle. “Hey, it’s Halloween. When else can a girl let loose?”

Together they join the end of the line for apple-bobbing, filled with chattering Sarah Lawrence girls and their dates. A breeze picks up and Susan shivers in her ghost costume. 

“Are you sure about this?” Susan asks.

Someone emerges from one of the tubs, apple clenched between their teeth, hair dripping wet. 

“No, but I want to do it anyway.” Kat glances at Susan and takes in her arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t have to, though…chicken.” 

“I’m game if you are.” 

“Good.”

The line goes faster than Susan would have liked, and all too soon she and Kat take their places in front of one of the tubs. Someone puts in a pair of fresh apples.

“Ready? Go!”

Susan approaches her apple cautiously, hesitant at the thought of plunging into the cold water. At her end of the tub, Kat dives after her apple. Icy water splashes onto both their faces, eliciting twin shrieks. 

In for a penny, in for a pound, Susan thinks grimly. She pushes up her sleeves, grabs the side of the tub, and goes for her apple. She and Kat knock heads more than once, chasing their targets from one end of the tub to the other. Susan almost has her apple when it shoots away from her, and in lunging after it, she drenches Kat’s head and shoulders. Kat looks up, a familiar murderous glint in her eyes, and sends a wave of freezing water right into Susan’s face.

Luckily, the organizers came prepared with towels, and soon Susan and Kat are installed back at their picnic table with steaming cups of cider. 

Kat reaches out and touches Susan’s hair, now falling softly around her face after the vigorous towelling-off loosened her tight curls. “Your hair is so beautiful like this.” 

Susan tucks a damp lock behind her ear. “Thank you. I’m not sure I can say the same of yours,” she adds, smiling. 

Kat puts a hand to her careful updo, still in place but now with loose hairs sticking out all over. “Oh no, I’m not adhering to our society’s restrictive beauty standards for an hour, whatever shall I do?” 

Susan laughs. “At least you’re not alone.”

Kat softens and leans forward, mirroring her posture from earlier in the night. “I always think you’re beautiful, Susan. Especially when you’re…” She gestures to Susan’s loose hair and rumpled ghost costume. 

“Dripping wet?” Susan snarks, but her heart swoops in her chest.

“No, I mean when you’re…” Kat palms the back of her neck, searching for the words. She’s never lost for words, Susan thinks. “When you don’t care how you look.”

“Kat…” Susan can’t speak over the lump in her throat. She reaches for Kat’s hand, lying on the table between them.

Kat reaches out with her free hand, gently touching Susan’s hair where it falls over her cheek. She squeezes Susan’s hand with the other. Susan frees her hand and brings it to Kat’s cheek, pink from the cold water. Kat closes her eyes and leans into Susan’s touch. Together they lean in, hesitating for a moment before their lips meet. 

They’re both cold and a bit damp, but there are traces of cider on Kat’s lips, warm and spiced and sharp, and it fits her perfectly. 

“Okay?” Susan whispers.

Kat responds by kissing her again, and Susan pulls Kat closer, hands in that beautiful messy blonde hair.

“How did you two get together?” someone asks, later, and Kat and Susan grin at each other.

“She splashed me with ice water,” Susan says, looping an arm around Kat’s waist and pulling her closer.

“Only because she splashed me first,” Kat responds, smiling down at Susan. “And I’m so glad she did.”