This Is Halloween

"Twiggy... I feel... weird." Marilyn pulled at the fabric of his dress as he examined himself in the mirror. His lip was contorted in disgust at the mere sight of what his best friend had crammed him into. It was a black leather dress that barely reached his mid-thigh. It would be considered comfortable to most women, but to Marilyn, it felt completely odd.

"How? You've worn a thong on stage. There's no way in hell you should feel awkward in a dress," Twiggy pointed out from the bathroom, where he was inside dressing.

"But I'm a guy," Marilyn protested. "Normally, we don't wear dresses."

"I'm a guy, too, and I wear dresses very often, thank you very much. You get used to it. Now quit bitching or else you're going to ruin my night. And that would not be a good thing," Twiggy warned as he opened the bathroom door. He walked out, dressed in a silver PVC dress.

"Yeah, but you're not a normal guy," Marilyn pointed out, nodding to Twiggy's attire.

"Neither are you. So I suggest you hush and put these on." Twiggy held out a pair of black fishnet stockings, complete with a few rips and tears.

"Twiggy, seriously-"

"On!" Twiggy shoved the stockings toward the singer, the look on his face just daring Marilyn to defy him.

"Fine," Marilyn growled, snatching the stockings. He had wondered why the bassist had so urged him to wear a garter belt, and now it was easy to see why he'd done it. "Can I at least put them on in the bathroom?"

"Oh please," Twiggy scoffed. "I've seen your dick plenty of times, you can put them on right there."

Marilyn rolled his eyes and pulled on the stockings as his friend slid into his own pair of black tights.

"Now," the bassist announced, looking happily at Marilyn, "It's time to make ourselves look gorgeous!"

The singer deadpanned as he looked at his friend, hoping he wasn't being serious. Twiggy's happy expression never faltered. "You're not being serious, are you?"

"Of course I am! Now, come into the bedroom and sit down. I want to do your hair," Twiggy announced, grabbing a few supplies from the counter while the singer walked into the bedroom. Inside he found a chair and sat on it, waiting impatiently for his makeover to begin.

Twiggy walked in, juggling several bottles, bags, and various hair and makeup items, which he dumped onto the bed. Looking over his pile of products, he frowned. Finally, he selected some hairspray, a few bobby pins, rubber bands, and a brush.

"What are you going to do to me?" Marilyn groaned as Twiggy began brushing his long, black hair.

"I'm going to do your hair. Obviously," the bassist replied. After he finished brushing, he gathered Marilyn's hair and gently pulled it into a high ponytail on the back of his head with a gentle touch.

"Are you seriously dressing me in drag?"

"Of course!"

"And we're seriously going trick-or-treating?"

"Absolutely."

"Twiggy... we're in our twenties!"

"So? I'm still a kid at heart, Marilyn. It counts!" Twiggy protested. He began winding a small section of the singer's hair around the rubber band to hide it, then pinned it in place with a few bobby pins.

Before Marilyn cound speak, his friend silenced him, saying that his makeup still needed to be done. With that, Twiggy began to apply foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, fake lashes, and lipstick. The singer couldn't even protest, for he couldn't see a thing.

Marilyn nearly sighed with relief when he friend stepped back and declared, "There. You're finished. Now it's my turn. I'll be back in a few minutes. You stay right here."

Twiggy skipped off to the bathroom with a few supplies in his hands, leaving Marilyn to entertain himself. Curious to see what had been done to his face, he hunted through the bassist's pile of things on the bed. There, he found a handheld mirror, which he peered into. Oddly enough, Twiggy had transformed him into a completely different person. It would be hard to realize this androgynous human would be Marilyn Manson when they went out that night.

"I'm back!" Twiggy chirped as he entered the room. In the bathroom, he had carefully applied a pink-purple shimmery eyeshadow and large fake eyelashes. He had gone with a light pink lip gloss and sparkles as highlights. His curly black hair - which looked quite feminine after his dreadlocks had been removed - was pulled back into two high pigtails. His newly cut bangs made the look even more feminine.

"Holy shit, Twiggy," Marilyn exclaimed, looking at his friend in disbelief.

"What?" the bassist asked self-conciously, his smile fading. "Did I smear my makeup?"

"No, no. It's just... you look like a chick!" Marilyn exclaimed, his jaw damn close to dropping. Twiggy's smile returned.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock. That's what I was trying to do," he scoffed. "Now come here, I need to adjust your ribbon."

He was referring to the red ribbon that he'd tied around Marilyn's neck. In the process of brushing his hair, it had come slightly untied. The singer rolled his eyes as Twiggy walked over and busied himself with the thick ribbon. Twiggy had called it cute. Marilyn had called it gaudy and annoying.

"There," Twiggy announced, stepping back to look at Marilyn. "All you need now is a pair of handcuffs and some boots. But I'll be right back, I left my gloves in the bathroom!"

Marilyn watched his friend scurry through the door. When something needed to be done, he never walked. From inside the bathroom, he heard the thud of someone falling to the floor, followed by the sound of various items being scattered across the linoleum.

"It's alright! I'm okay!" Twiggy announced loudly. A few seconds later, he limped into the bedroom. "I just need to sit down for a second."

"What the hell did you do?" the singer demanded, following his friend to the bed.

"I forgot I was wearing tights, so I slipped on the floor," Twiggy laughed as he pulled on the gloves. They were fishnet ones that hooked on his middle finger and reached the middle of his upper arm, where they ended in a fur that matched Twiggy's makeup and the corset-style laces on the back of his dress.

"Twiggy..." Marilyn trailed off, shaking his head like a disapproving mother.

"Your handcuffs are on the table over there. And our boots are in the closet, if you could get them for me," Twiggy said, pointing to where the shiny handcuffs were sitting. Without question, the singer stood and retrieved the items for his friend. The bassist snatched the handcuffs from Marilyn hand and before any protest could be vocalized, hooked them to a belt loop on the singer's pants.

"Are these mine?" Marilyn asked, holding up the black patent boots in his left hand. They would reach his mid-calf and had a two inch platform topped with a three inch heel.

"Yep. Hand me mine." Twiggy reached out for the other pair of boots. The silver of them matched his dress and were knee-high. Marilyn passed the boots over and sat down, pulling on his.

"Are you even going to be able to walk?" Marilyn asked as he tied his red laces. He didn't want to go, but it would be a bigger pain if Twiggy had to stay home because it was predetermined that he would complain about not getting any candy.

"I should be able to. My ass is what took the fall," he laughed, zipping the sides of his boots. "I'm gonna wind up with a massive bruise, though."

__________

"C'mon Marilyn! Hurry up!" Twiggy whined, motioning for his friend to follow after him.

"Trick-or-treating started five minutes ago. Just chill out or you're gonna hurt yourself again," Marilyn pointed out as he headed over to the tree Twiggy was standing under. Once they began walking again, he muttered, "I don't see why you couldn't take Zim. For one, he looks more like a chick than me. He's probably got more energy than me, too. And he loves dressing up."

"Yeah, I know. But he's out with Pogo and Ginger. Besides, I like making you do shit like this," Twiggy said, elbowing the singer.

"Don't do that, I'll fall," Marilyn sighed, trying to keep his balance in the rediculously high heels he'd been put in.

"Well, you're the one who bought those red boots with the massive heels for the next tour, not me. I'm just trying to prepare you for the concerts." The bassist tried his best to look innocent, despite the fact that he looked very much like a porn star in his current attire.

"I still think you should have taken Zim."

"Oh Marilyn, don't you love me?!" cried Twiggy dramatically, placing his hands over his heart.

The singer rolled his eyes. "You're such a freak, Twiggy."

"You're the one in fishnet," Twiggy pointed out.

"You're the one who always wears dresses."

"You're the one who wears a thong on stage."

"You're the one who loves Star Wars."

"Do not even start that shit, Manson," Twiggy growled, looking at his friend with the intent to kill. "You know those movies are important to me! It's not my fault you can't understand the greatness of them."

"Why do I even consider you my friend?" Marilyn sighed, wondering aloud.

"Because I'm cute and you'd be lost without my guidance," Twiggy said cheerfully. "Now come on, here's a house!"

The bassist grabbed the other man's arm and dragged him toward the nearest house, their porch lights on in signal that trick-or-treaters were welcome. Twiggy rang the doorbell and was greeted by an old woman holding a bowl of candy.

"Trick-or-treat!" Twiggy cheered, holding out his pillow case. The woman smiled and dropped a strawberry sucker into his bag. The bassist looked at Marilyn, urging him to hold out his bag.

"What do you say?" the woman asked with a smile. The singer just held a blank look on his face.

"You don't get candy unless you say 'trick-or-treat', Marilyn," Twiggy hissed, elbowing him.

"Ow," Marilyn grumbled, moving away from his friend as swiftly as he could with his boots on. "That hurt."

"Quit being a dick," Twiggy whispered, just loud enough for only Marilyn to hear.

Sighing, the singer complied. "Trick-or-treat."

"There you go, dear. Now tell me, what are you lovely ladies supposed to be?" the woman asked, dropping a chocolate sucker into Marilyn's pillowcase. Twiggy looked at him and smiled slowly.

"We're supposed to be girls," Twiggy giggled, pulling Marilyn from the porch. A contorted look of disgust worked its way onto the woman's features as she realized what that meant. Of course, all the two men could do was laugh.

As the excitement died down, Twiggy rested his head on the other man's shoulder in what seemed like an innocent act until his hand shot into Marilyn's pillowcase.

"Twiggy! What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, attempting to yank the bag away. "What are you doing?"

"I want your chocolate sucker!" the pigtailed man whined, still trying to grab it. "They're my favorite. You can have my strawberry one!"

"I don't want your fucking sucker! I like the chocolate ones, too," the singer protested. Seeing as how his attempt at removing the bag from Twiggy had failed, he decided that the only course of action was to remove Twiggy from the bag. Gently at first, and then more forcefully, he began pushing the bassist away. As he took a false step, Twiggy went from being shoved by Marilyn to being welcomed by the pavement in a matter of seconds.

"Marilyn!" Twiggy gasped in surprise, looking up at the man above him. "How could you?!"

Surpressing laughter, the singer bent to help his friend stand up but realized Twiggy was poking his ankle suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?! I just wanted your sucker, and then you made me trip. My ankle feels like it was assfucked," the bassist growled, glaring at the silver material sheathing his leg.

"Quit pouting. You wanted to come trick-or-treating, now get your ass up and let's go," Marilyn said, sticking out his hand. Not meeting his eyes, Twiggy grabbed onto it and let his thin body be hauled to his feet. He gently pressed weight onto his ankle, wincing at the slight pain it caused.

"You okay?" Marilyn asked, realizing that Twiggy's discomfort was genuine, not just a ploy to make the singer feel guilty.

"I'm all right. Let's go get candy!" he cheered, although it was obvious by the stiff way he took off running again that he was hurt. Rolling his eyes, Marilyn followed after him. If Twiggy had his mind set on something, he would be determined to get it until it actually were in his possession. At that point, he'd be unsure of what to do with it.

Several houses and a few pieces of candy later, the bassist turned to Marilyn with a huge grin on his face. He continued to look as apathetic as possible but it was hard to hold his composure with his friend next to him, grinning like a madman.

"What?!" he finally snapped, whipping his head around to look at Twiggy. The bassist's grin grew wider, but he didn't respond. "Goddammit, Twiggy."

"What?" he asked, trying to look as innocent as he could manage.

"Fuck you," Marilyn sighed. Twiggy just snickered and dragged the singer off to the next house to scare the next person they came across.

"I'm sure you'd like that," the bassist smiled. Marilyn's lip twitched, supressing the urge to retaliate.

__________

Two hours later, the sun had set and many people were beginning to turn off their lights, signaling that they were either out of candy or were keeping the rest for themselves. Due to Twiggy's insistence, they were staying out until the very end, making a loop back to the bassist's house and hitting the last houses on the way there.

"Trick-or-treat!" Twiggy grinned, holding out his bag for the little girl who answered the door to put the candy in. Smiling, she did so.

"Trick-or-treat," Marilyn grumbled, following his friend's example.

"I like your hair," the little girl murmured quietly as she looked at Marilyn with wide eyes. Then she scurried back into the house and slammed the door shut, much to Twiggy's amusement.

"She's cute," he commented, giggling. "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah, my feet are killing me," Marilyn groaned as they walked down the steps. Near the bottom, Twiggy's ankle wobbled and threatened to give out.

"Ow ow ow! Shit, Marilyn!" he gasped, automatically grabbing onto the singer's shoulder. He lifted his ankle behind him to relieve his weight.

"What? What happened?" The concern in Marilyn's voice was almost palpable.

"I don't know! But my ankle just feels... dead," Twiggy growled, trying to see it through the dark. "Well, not dead. If it were dead, it wouldn't have feeling. Um, it's dying."

Marilyn deadpanned. "I know what you mean, Twiggy."

"... I don't think I can walk home," he admitted quietly, not wanting to get yelled at. "Do you want me to stay here so you can head back and get the car?"

"I don't want to just leave you out here," Marilyn said. "Can you jump?"

"Jump? What do I need to jump for?" Twiggy asked curiously.

"Obviously so I can carry you."

Twiggy's eyes widened as he comprehended what Marilyn was telling him. "Oh! Okay, yeah, I think I can. Here, hand me your candy. I'll carry it for you."

The singer handed his friend the bag and kneeled down slightly to brace himself. He wrapped one arm under Twiggy's and the other under his knees. "On the count of three, you jump, okay?"

"Gotcha, Captain."

Marilyn rolled his eyes. "One, two, three!"

As soon as he hit the number, Twiggy jumped with his good leg. With a grunt of effort, Marilyn was holding him in his arms in a way reminiscent of a mother cradling her child.

"Comfortable?" he asked as Twiggy wiggled into position.

"Yup."

"Okay." Marilyn began walking unsteadily down the street, unused to carrying anything of Twiggy's size in his arms.

Suddenly, the bassist leaned his head on Marilyn's chest. "Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange? C'mon, Marilyn!"

"No."

"Sing with me!"

"No."

"I'll take a picture of you and show Pogo that you wore a dress."

"I don't ca-"

"Without underwear."

"Come with us and you will see, this, our town of Halloween!"

The two of them sang the entire song two times through before Marilyn breathlessly protested that he couldn't sing, carry Twiggy, and try to balance on his heels without passing out. Twiggy just settled for leaning his head on the singer's shoulder, relaxing as he was carried home.

As they neared home, Twiggy spoke up. "Thanks for letting me dress you up in drag. And for coming trick-or-treating. And now, for carrying me," he said quietly.

"It's no problem. I might put up a fight but... I actually don't mind it," he admitted. A smile lit up the bassist's face.

"Well thank you anyway," he said with a smirk, looking up at the singer and daring him to somehow argue the point that it wasn't a problem.

Acting on nothing but a whim, Marilyn stopped walking and leaned down to press his lips against Twiggy's. At first he was surprised, but realizing that Marilyn wasn't kidding, melted into the kiss.

Pulling back, the bassist exclaimed, "Why?"

"No reason," Marilyn shrugged. "I felt like it."

Twiggy shrugged, knowing that Marilyn was making things up because he was too embarrassed to vocalize his true feelings. The blush heating his cheeks was enough to say that.

"Happy Halloween!"

"Happy Halloween, Twiggy."