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"Here you go," David said as he leaned down to put something into a little kid's basket. "Happy Halloween!"
“Happy Halloween,” the little ghost of indiscriminate gender muttered back before hurrying back to their parents. Dave waved them off with a friendly gesture before closing the door.
Jason hadn’t been paying much attention to it; he’d never had trick or treaters come up to this door before, but this year, apparently they’d all decided this was the house to be. He didn’t even know David had gotten candy for them.
“See,” David said proudly, “all you have to do is turn your damn porch light on. I told you.”
Jason shrugged and waved his words away. “They get plenty of candy all year round. I don’t see why I have to give them any more.”
Sighing, David shook his head. “Because it’s fun, you absolute pollywog. And besides, I’m not giving them candy.”
The last line was delivered with such a smug look that Jason couldn’t help but ask, “What are you giving them, then?”
Without words, David held up a bag of grapes. His face splitting open into a massive grin.
Jason didn’t see his partner’s face, instead he eyed the bag with a practiced look. “Two or three a kid, should last the whole night.”
David frowned, but before he could answer him, the doorbell rang. He turned around and Jason watched in confusion as David dumped the entire bag of grapes into a kid’s bucket. Then reached beside him to plop a banana into the other kid’s bag.
Jason watched as another group chased the first one up the path. His yard had been decorated, he suddenly realized. He’d never decorated before. Maybe that’s what had summoned the children to his house?
David clearly didn’t share his confusion. He greeted the next set of kids with two more bananas, an apple, and a peach.
Shrugging, Jason decided that the kids were at least getting something healthy, so he’d deal with the noise and the interruptions for a little while longer. It was nearly six o’clock, how much longer could those little kids realistically be out here?
The next group received some more fruit, and Jason was about to turn away and go back to his book when something weird caught his eye. “Did you just give that little girl a thing of celery?”
David shrugged. “Ran out of fruit.”
Frowning Jason stalked back to the kitchen, where he fetched the already suspiciously empty fruit bowl, which he handed to David by the front door. Unfortunately this was only after some kid ran off with a beet clutched in their hands.
“Hey, thanks,” David said with a smile. “I thought you’d probably want to keep the nectarines, so—”
“—Fucking hand them out already,” Jason cut him off as a group of teens entered the front yard. “Better than giving them vegetables.”
David shrugged and loudly offered the group a choice between the nectarines and the bag of potatoes by his feet. Jason was rendered speechless when each and every one of them grabbed a potato before joyously making their way back to the street. David’s expression was the smuggest it had ever been when he turned back to Jason. “You were saying?”
Annoyed, Jason threw his hands up. “Just do whatever you’re gonna do,” he grumbled. “I’m going back to my book.”
David waved him off—still with that smug look on his face—then turned to the door to hand a toddler one of the nectarines. Jason almost smiled, but his expression soured somewhat when the next thing to disappear into someone’s bucket was a can of chicken soup.
“That’s for when I get sick!” he protested as soon as the kid d had left.
“Nonsense, you’re healthy as a horse.” David clearly didn’t see the problem as he handed some canned ravioli and an onion to the next kids to show up to the door.
“Sick horses get put down,” Jason deadpanned just in time for a five-year-old little cowgirl to hear and start bawling. David pacified her with a can of Vienna sausages and a head of broccoli, but not before the adult companion—her mother, from the looks of it—gave Jason a proper glare-down. Jason decided he’d had enough and hurried back to the living room—and his book.
A moment later he found himself rushing back to the door when a chorus of children’s voices called for various vegetables—the ones Jason knew he only had in cans. He watched in utter astonishment as David handed out artichoke hearts, peas, and two cans of green beans.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he demanded as the kids wandered off in search of real candy. “That was tomorrow’s dinner!”
David blew him off. “I’ll cook something better. Something fresh.”
“Oh? And who’s going to the store?”
David hesitated for a moment before muttering, “Together?”
“For what?! You’re the one giving all my food away!”
David seemingly ignored him, crouching down to offer some black-clothed toddler the choice between a can of corn and the last of the Vienna sausages. Once the sausages had departed, he turned back to Jason, “How was I to know this was the only house on the block that didn’t have any candy?”
All but speechless, Jason sputtered, “I never have candy in the house!”
“But it's—”
“Happy Halloween! Trick or treat!”
David turned back to the eclectic collection of ghouls, witches, and princesses and quickly handed out some more pantry staples. Jason could only watch helplessly as his favorite ramen disappeared into a little fairy’s bag.
“Do I need to go get some candy?” he asked weakly as David turned to raid his pantry cabinet some more. All of a sudden it struck Jason that if he’d kept that thing as a coat closet instead of converting it into the pantry his small kitchen so dearly lacked, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
David turned back to him with a smile on his face and his credit card in his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.”
***
The store had been nearly deserted except for the occasional frazzled person trying to get their hands on more candy. Jason had to flash his badge to get a guy to let go of the box of expensive chocolates that he'd put in his cart; he didn’t think the kids would care that it was expensive, or Belgian, or even that it was chocolate—but the store had been raided long ago and this was the only sweet thing he could find. Besides, David was buying. After a moment’s thought, Jason grabbed three more boxes, cleaning out the shelf.
After, he hurried over to the register, nervous to think about what all David was handing out in his absence. The rest of his ramen was obviously as good as gone, but Jason silently hoped David wouldn’t find the package of dried figs he’d stashed in the back of the pantry. It was there specifically to keep it away from David, so that after all the little kids had gone to bed, he could pull it out and hopefully convince David to come to his bed. In a particular mood, obviously.
There was, of course, just one open register. But with only three customers in front of him—one of which decided they didn’t need the bag of lollipops they’d no doubt gone to war for—Jason decided it wouldn’t take too long. He also decided to grab the discarded bag of lollipops while he had the chance. He thought again about his poor, lost-to-the-world ramen, but decided against going to get some more as a lady with a full cart pulled up behind him. He wondered why she was getting her groceries on Halloween of all nights, but then realized that, aside from the desperate and the drunk, the store was pretty much empty. It was, in fact, the perfect night to go grocery shopping—if not for the fact that David was currently in emptying out his pantry. Tomorrow, Jason decided, David was going to replace everything he’d so rashly given away. With that decision made, he focused on his surroundings again and realized to his horror that the line hadn’t moved in at least ten minutes.
“What’s going on?” he muttered, worried that by the time he got home, David would be giving away his furniture. The thought of two teenagers hauling away his couch almost made him chuckle, and he nearly didn’t hear the man in front of him as he replied to Jason’s question in hushed tones.
“The drunk up front doesn’t have the money for his beer, but apparently he won’t leave without it. I think they called security.”
Jason listened to the voices up ahead for a moment before sidestepping the two people in front of him and addressing the cashier. “How much is he short?”
‘He’, an aging man wearing a Vietnam vet ball cap and an empty sleeve where his right arm used to be answered him in a solemn tone, “Fiddy-two cents, sir.”
Jason rolled his eyes before throwing a dollar down on the counter. “Thank you for your service, sir. Now kindly blow off.”
He ignored the man’s thank yous and muttered praises and gestured to the cashier to get on with it before once again taking his place in line. The thought of two teenagers carrying off his couch had lost it’s luster as it became an increasingly likely consequence of his prolonged absence.
Thankfully, the line moved again now. Jason tried not to think of his poor, empty pantry as he shuffled forward. Someone up ahead mentioned missing a bag of lollipops, and Jason quietly buried the bag under his four boxes of chocolate. He’d earned them. He’d made the line move. David was probably giving away his couch right now. He’d earned those damned lollipops.
After finally making it out of the store, Jason hurried back to his car. His damned couch was on the line. He only avoided a speeding ticket because all the cops were out trick or treating with their kids, but that was fine. The only thing he ran over was a plastic skeleton that had blown into the road; since it was already dead, Jason didn’t figure he did anything wrong.
He couldn’t park in the driveway because of the droves of costumed kids, and he carefully looked around for any of his furniture—especially aunt Margaret’s antique vase, which was supposed to be sitting on the hallway table, right where David could reach it.
He didn’t see any vases—antique or otherwise—as he parked on the street and made his way through the throngs of kids headed to and returning from his front door. The ones on their way back were chatting happily, showing off cans of vegetables, a bag of rice, and even, Jason noticed with a groan, the expensive box of couscous he’d had to go all the he way to the other side of town for. “He’s replacing all of it,” he muttered to himself as he drew up to the front door, just in time to see his goddamned stick blender disappear into a canvas bag showing a picture of Michael Myers of all people. Jason gritted his teeth and pressed past some kid in a hockey mask to get to the door.
“Hey man, no pushing,” Hockey mask complained, and Jason barely restrained himself from snapping back at him.
Instead, he stepped in front of David—who was dangerously holding Jason’s bag of Arabica coffee beans—held up the plastic grocery bag and proclaimed, “Candy’s here!”
The expected chorus of cheers did not occur, and he even noticed a few kids in the back turning away. Confused, he looked back at David, who’d at least had the presence of mind to put the coffee beans down.
“I think ‘assorted cans and the occasional potato' was more entertaining,” David said with a sad little smile.
Jason shrugged helplessly. “What, I should’ve gotten more packs of ramen?”
“I’ll take the ramen!” a voice called from the crowd. It was immediately followed by at least four calls of protest and a surge of laughter.
Jason sighed and dropped the grocery bag into David’s hands. “I’ll be right back.” He turned back to his car, immediately surrounded by loud cheers. Halfway down the path, a thought occurred to him and he called back, “Don’t give out any more appliances!”
He turned just in time to see David hide a blender behind his back, a thoroughly embarrassed look on his face.
Jason laughed. “Fine, just don’t give them my damn egg cooker.” He didn’t catch the worried look on David’s face as he hurried back to his car. He did, however, notice two teenagers sharing a gallon of milk at the edge of his driveway. Another was bargaining for some crackers as he held Jason’s favorite goat cheese.
Shaking his head, Jason got back into his car. “Grocery run on Halloween,” he muttered as he drove off. “For the damn trick or treaters.”