Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. Poo.

A/N: For those of you who are reading my other Chlerek work-in-progress, Misguided Ghosts, I am SO sorry that chapter eight is late! It's a big chapter in the story line, and I've been having trouble making it just so. I'll have a full explanation when I post it, promise.

This story is a oneshot that spilled over onto nineteen pages, so I decided to divide it into a twoshot. Half today, half tomorrow. :) It's also my first story in Derek's POV. I felt like I needed to get to know him better for Ghosts, and this is what sprang from that. It's semi-plotless fluff, but I think you guys will like it. ;D

As always, enjoy or destroy!

Halloween
by xx bewitching x3

"Pass," I said. Simon's face went from bright to bleak, but I sidestepped him and continued on to class. He'd get over it.

"Derek," he called. He jogged to catch up with me, but only I could hear the pound of his footsteps over the other students. The hallway was crowded, noisier than usual. It was a week before Halloween, and everyone was rushing to fill up their weekend with costume parties and trips to haunted cornfields.

My face wrestled with a smile. I already have plans.

"C'mon, Derek," Simon pleaded. "I mean, how often does Dad let us get away with something like this–"

"Us?"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, me, but the point remains the same. We should have a party."

"And I already told you. Do what you want. I'm busy."

"According to you," Simon pointed out. "I can always ask Chloe–"

"She already knows we have plans." Not that she knows what they are.

"Damn."

I stopped at the door to my classroom, and he careened into my back. Not the first time, and definitely not the last. I grabbed him by the sleeve, helping him regain his balance, and a nearby teacher gave me a dirty look.

"I've got to get to class," I told him, passing the teacher a nod. It just made him more suspicious. "So let's cut to the chase. You want to have a party."

Simon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, Tori does, too."

I opened my mouth to call it a bad idea, but the bell rang. It wasn't the point anyway. "Then you and Tori have a party. Good luck working with her."

"But it's not a party without you and Chloe."

"Rain check?" I ducked into English before he could argue.

I made it to my seat just as the second bell rang, and laughed. He'd be tardy – again.

"Something funny, Mr. Miller?"

I looked up at Ms. Quinn when she said my latest alias. She was standing at the overhead projector, pen poised over the homework, ready to start the review, her pointed nose aimed at me. I shook my head, "No, ma'am," and pulled out my homework without meeting her critical gaze. Some things never change.

Then again...

A post-it note clung to my worksheets, covered in Chloe's rounded scrawl. You're lucky I read this play – but you still owe me two nights of math homework.

This time I didn't fight the smile. I peeled off the post-it, folded it in half and shoved it in my pocket.

Party or not, this was going to be a good Halloween.

I sat on the brick wall that surrounding the bike rack after school, foot tapping, the collar of my windbreaker slapping against my chin. I tried brushing it out of the way, but the wind was relentless. I shoved my hands in my pockets instead, planning to trade in my summer coat for a thicker winter one when we got home. The wolf in me had already done it, so now it was my turn.

I heard her footsteps before the door creaked open on rusty hinges, and once she stepped outside, the breeze blew her hair into a mass of tangles. She spit, hair in her mouth, and struggled to brush it out of her face. I snorted.

She looked up, eyes bright, hair still a mess. "Yeah, laugh it up," she said, walking towards me. "Your hair doesn't look like it's cooperating either."

I shook a few strands out of my eyes. "I'm not the one being strangled."

"Yet," she joked, crossing the last few feet between us and shifting onto her tiptoes. I didn't hesitate – just leaned in and kissed her, the tips of my fingers catching her chin. She held me in place by my collar, which was stupid. Like I was going anywhere.

She pulled back first, her fingers still clenched around my jacket. She cleared her throat, her face a shade of red that had nothing to do with temperature, and her eyes focused on mine. A smile played at her lips, devious and shy and twenty other things I couldn't decipher.

Six months, I reminded myself. It's only been six months. Control yourself.

Yeah, right. Lately, I was having better luck controlling my appetite.

Her hand dropped, but her fingers found mine, and I slid off the wall. "You shouldn't wait for me," she said as we walked away from the school. "I can walk by myself."

"And walk home with Simon and Tori and their entourage?" I rolled my eyes.

She laughed, agreeing. "Okay, but next time, wait inside. It's getting cold out."

I just squeezed her hand. I would wait inside, but I'd rather loiter than have to explain myself every time a teacher walked by, wondering what I was trying to vandalize after hours. Besides, her writers' club was never too long.

"How was club?" I asked.

She shrugged. "All right. I think I might stop going."

"How come?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It's full of romance writers." I laughed, and she gave me a dirty look. "Seriously. I read my horror stories and they look at me like I'm nuts. The teacher thinks I'm emo or depressed or something."

"At least you aren't the new criminal in town."

She held up our clasped hands, eyebrow raised. "No, I'm just the criminal's girlfriend," she said. "Or we could both be criminals. Like Bonnie and Clyde."

"Clyde?" I frowned.

"Okay, maybe not. How about Natasha and Boris? You know, from Rocky and Bullwinkle?"

"Boris? Do all criminals have crappy names?"

Another chuckle. "I'll think of something," she said, eyes narrowed at the ground, sneakers scuffing the sidewalk. Her hair blew into her face again and I instinctively brushed it back. She flushed.

"How was your day?" she said, swinging our hands.

"Same as every day. Class, harassed by the teachers, other classes... Thanks for the English sheets, by the way."

"Good, you got those," she smiled. "Can I cash in my math favor tonight? I've got bookwork again."

"What's it on?" She gave me a blank look, and I snorted. "Yeah, sure. But I'll walk you through it, so you don't look like an idiot in class."

"You didn't watch while I did your homework. What's the difference?"

"I don't care if I look like an idiot."

"But you aren't an idiot," she said. She stopped walking; our arms stretched out between us, and she looked at me like I'd chewed the living room rug.

"What?"

"Stop it. That whole everyone-thinks-I'm-a-stupid-delinquent-and-I-like-it thing. You're better than that."

I shrugged. "So?"

"So?" she huffed. But her stance loosened, and she took a step forward, so I knew she wasn't really pissed. "So you don't care?"

I shook my head. Why should I? People were going to think what they wanted to, and I wasn't going to waste time proving them wrong. Especially when we were only here until my dad and Chloe's aunt decided it was time to move on.

She took a few more hesitant steps towards me, along with a deep breath. Her pinky skimmed the edge of my palm. "You know I don't think you're a stupid delinquent, right?"

"Yeah." It was one of the things I liked most about her – she saw beyond the stereotype.

"Good," she said, another step closer. I wrapped my arm around her, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Am I still in trouble?

She sighed. Then she hopped up and kissed me on the cheek. Her breath was warm as she lingered on the spot, and then she slid under my arm. I grinned.

"Walk me home, Boris," she said, laughing when I balked. "I'm freezing out here."

"So X equals..."

"Forty-seven?" Chloe hedged, tip of a pen in her mouth. I shook my head.

"Guess again."

She did the math problem again, scribbling in a notebook on her lap. "Fifty-eight," she said, sounding more confident. I snorted.

"Guess better."

Tori tramped into the living room – and I mean tramped. Her skirt showed off more than anyone around here wanted to see. She stomped around and threw herself into a chair, swearing under her breath. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the math book. But Chloe looked up, distracted by anything that wasn't a number.

"What's with you?" Chloe asked, sitting up. My side felt cold after having her lean on me for so long, but I let it go. Her free hand still fiddled with mine under the blanket spread across our laps – which earned me more than the day's quota of dirty looks from her aunt – and that was what mattered in my book.

"Simon's taking over my party."

"Party?" Chloe asked, looking to me. I shrugged.

Tori huffed. "Kit said I could have a Halloween party. You know, with cool people? Since I'm always stuck with you losers lately."

"You can leave if you want," I told her.

"Har, har," she said, rolling her eyes. "Point is, Simon found out about it, and now he wants to invite all of his friends. I can't have a party full of dorks. It'll ruin everything."

Chloe's brows knitted together. "But Tori–"

"What?"

Chloe swallowed, grip tensing on mine. "But... doesn't Simon have more friends than you anyway?"

Tori gaped, stuttered, stopped, and went into a rant before I could get out one laugh. "Well, yeah, but only because my standards are higher. He'll talk to anybody–"

"No," Simon said as he came into the room. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a granola bar in the other, plopping onto the couch on Chloe's other side. I inwardly groaned. "I don't talk to you."

"You're talking to me right now, genius."

He grinned. "Thanks. It's always nice having my intelligence recognized."

Chloe twisted around so she could look at Simon. "Kit's letting you have a party?"

Simon nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah. Didn't Derek tell you?"

She looked at me, and I shrugged again. "We have plans anyway."

For a second she looked disappointed, but as soon as I reminded her, her face lit up. "That's right," she said, falling against me and squirming to get comfortable. I looked up just in time to catch Simon and Tori's matching eye rolls.

"Anyway," Simon said. "Since Chloe and Derek are getting busy–" He paused to waggle his eyebrows at the wordplay.

"Ew, no innuendos, please," Tori said, shaking her head distastefully. "Nobody needs to picture that."

Chloe didn't say anything, but I felt her stifle a laugh.

"It looks like the guest list is up to us," Simon finished, looking at Tori, who groaned dramatically. "Or we can just not have a party."

"How about your little friends leave early, and my friends come later?"

"How much later?"

"I don't know. Ten, eleven? That gives us four or five hours to show you how it's done–" Simon and I both laughed, earning a startled look from Chloe and a vaporizing glare from Tori. "What's so funny about that?"

"Dad's let Simon throw parties before," I answered, since Simon was too busy trying not to choke on his granola. "Always over by midnight. House rules."

She swore. "What are you, Mormons?"

"It's called being conscientious of the neighbors," I said, catching a familiar scent. I looked over my shoulder. "Right?"

Everyone spun to see Dad in the doorway, a cup of coffee raised in mid-sip. He smiled, shrugged. "I also need my beauty sleep."

"Couldn't we at least keep it going until three?" Tori pleaded. I didn't have to turn around to know her eyes were wide, her mouth coiled into a pout.

"Nope," Dad said, trying to look stern. "Midnight."

"Two?"

His mask faltered, letting out a smirk. "Midnight."

"One?" Tori said, and Simon perked up, watching Dad unravel like an old sweater.

Dad gritted his teeth. "Okay. One. Any later and I'll bring out the board games."

Tori shuddered. "That would clear them out." Dad laughed.

"Just not too many people, okay? The house can't handle a crowd."

"How many a piece?" Simon said, eyeing Tori with admiration. I had to give her credit. She'd managed to hide her bitchiness from Dad, but it would only last forever.

"I was thinking five, but I have to ask Lauren–"

"Five?" Tori said, just as Simon groaned, "Come on, Dad."

"How is that not fair? That's twenty people, not including the four of you–"

Chloe sat up. "Derek and I aren't going," she said. "It's Tori and Simon's party."

"Where are you going to be?"

"Out," I said. Chloe huffed.

"He won't tell me either," she said.

Dad shot me a look, and I nodded, silently agreeing to fill him in later. Ever since Chloe and I got together, even Dad expects trouble, which is not only stupid but insulting.

After a quick discussion, Dad agreed to let them make up a guest list, and him and Dr. Fellows would have the right to shorten it. Once he left the room, they started arguing over details. Costumes or no costumes, decorations or no decorations, his music or her music–

Chloe nudged me in the side, and I snapped into focus. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna tell me what we're doing?"

I smirked. "No."

She bit her lip, and my determination wavered. She made it worse by sliding closer, our faces so close our noses almost touched. "Please?"

My voice sounded a lot more confident than I felt. "No. It's a surprise."

She rolled her eyes, too out of her element to continue, and sat back. If I thought hiding something from her when she slept right down the hall was hard, it was ten times worse whenever she gave me those looks.

On Halloween, the afternoon of the party, Simon and I were in our room. I stretched across my bed, and he sat in the chair at our shared desk, doing the last minute touches on his costume.

"Sure you're not coming?" he asked. He was holding a mirror up to his face, dollar store red lip liner in hand, penning a lightning bolt on his forehead. "It's going to be fun."

"Nope." I flicked a page in the book I was reading, but didn't see the words. I squinted at him instead. "Who exactly are you supposed to be?"

Simon refined the edge of the zigzag on his head and put on a pair of round black glasses with the lenses missing. "Harry Potter, duh."

I rolled my eyes. Figures the sorcerer would dress up as a wizard for Halloween.

He tossed the mirror aside, and straightened the red and gold tie around his throat. "Are you going to tell me where you're taking Chloe?"

"Nope."

"Dad said you're taking the car."

"Uh huh." I turned another page.

"He said her aunt's pissed."

"Because Dr. Fellows doesn't particularly like me," I said, snapping the book shut. Trying to read around Simon was like trying to breathe underwater.

Simon snorted. "Lucky Chloe doesn't take after her too much, huh?"

Incredibly lucky. I sat up and checked the clock. "I need to get ready."

"No costume?" Simon asked as I went to the closet for a fresh shirt.

It's not a costume kind of date, I thought, sniffing until I found the cleanest shirt. Chloe likes green, right? "What would you suggest?" I said, humoring him.

"The Incredible Hulk?" he suggested. He twirled a toy wand in his hand for a minute, rolling his eyes when obviously nothing happened. "The Thing, from Fantastic Four?"

I snorted. An angry green guy, or an angry orange guy. Inventive. "Not really into body paint."

"Hulk Hogan?"

I sighed, grabbing the green shirt and my favorite jeans. "If Chloe comes around, tell her I'm in the shower."

The wand levitated above his palm now, Simon staring wistfully when he realized it wasn't a party trick he could show off. "'Kay. But she won't."

"How do you know?" I blurted, regretting it instantly. I was working on not letting Simon and Chloe's friendship get to me, but it was just that, work.

Simon chuckled, but let it slide. "Because she's helping Tori into her costume."

"Do I want to know?"

"I didn't," he said. "From the looks of it, she's going to be a black cat. Either that or a dominatrix. Can't be sure with that much leather."

I shuddered, got my clothes together and headed for the bathroom. At least I'd be gone before I saw that.

Chloe propped her sneakers on the dash as we pulled away, looking out the window at the cars lining up outside our house. "If you want to stay–" I started, but she shook her head.

"I just didn't know they knew that many people," she said, genuinely amazed. "Did Kit agree to that many?"

"Does Tori listen?"

She snorted, "True."

After awhile of fiddling with the radio, she sighed. Then she sighed again. And again.

"Yes?" I asked.

She threw me an expectant smile. "So, where are we going?"

I avoided her gaze and fed her the same line I'd been saying all week. "It's a surprise."

"Surprise me now."

"Patience is a virtue."

"So is kindness," she said.

"Must've skipped that day of bible camp."

We hit a red light, and I used it to look at her while she laughed. She didn't do anything too different from her usual routine – all I smelled was a raspberry flavoring in her lip gloss – but her cheeks seemed pinker. Happier.

Her eyes locked with mine, face still red, lips curved into a smirk.

I didn't realize I was leaning forward until the car behind us honked. I looked up at the green light and hit the gas, ignoring her snickering.

She went back to pestering me, not stopping until I'd driven towards the edge of town and pulled into a parking lot. The building attached was a dingy, featureless rectangle. Two sets of double doors flanked a ticket booth, and above that, an old-fashioned marquee announced our destination despite the missing letters.

"A movie theater?" Chloe asked, eyes wide.

"They're having a marathon," I said, turning off the car, suddenly nervous. "Old horror movies. I recognized a few of the titles and I thought–"

"This is perfect," she said, wrenching open the door.

"You sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come on," she insisted, grabbing her sweatshirt and hopping out. She bounced on her feet while I locked up the car, dragged me to the ticket booth, and bounced some more. The girl at the counter raised her eyebrows – for once not at me.

I bought us two tickets and we went inside, my nose bombarded by a cloud of butter. The lobby was classic movie theater decor, all red walls, gold accents, and frayed carpet. We got a large tub of popcorn and two sodas, she made me promised I wouldn't eat it all, and then we followed the signs to our theater.

"Where do we sit?" she asked. We were early, so we had our pick of seats. The only other people there were a group of goths in the center row. Five of them sat in a cluster, and in the center was a guy with blood red hair and so many piercings he looked like the floor of a steel factory. He looked at Chloe, then at me, and stared. The others followed his gaze.

I nudged her up the stairs, trying to ignore the smell of liquor wafting from their bags and breath. "You pick."

Taking the hint, she went straight for the back, under the projector. I felt the guy's eyes on me as we sat down, but when I turned to look, he was talking to his friends again.

The seats were bigger than in a newer theater, overstuffed and threadbare, but I put up the armrests anyway. Chloe busied herself with her cell phone – probably texting her aunt – and I took in more smells. Cotton candy, sour gummies, burnt popcorn. It was almost overpowering, but I could deal. This was about Chloe. She complained all the time about leaving her movie collection back home, and this would make it up to her.

"What's playing first?" she asked when she put her phone away, sipping her pop.

"Dracula."

"The original?" I nodded, and she pumped her fist. "What's after that?"

"Nightmare on Elm Street."

Her smile grew. "And then?"

There I squinted, the title on the tip of my tongue. "Some seventies one. Um–"

"Wait, don't tell me," she smirked. "Halloween?"

I smiled. "Yeah, that's the one."

She sat back, a contented sigh on her lips, and my shoulders released a tension that had nothing to do with a Change. Being with Chloe was easy, but doing something special for her? I was out of my element.

"The only one missing is Psycho," she mused.

It sounded familiar. "What's that about?"

"You've never seen it?"

We spent the next ten minutes going over the plot line, people filling in around us. Eventually the lights dimmed, everyone shushed, and a black and white image flashed on the screen.

Chloe leaned in close and whispered, "Thank you. This is amazing."

"Better than a party?"

I could see her face perfectly in the dark, but I was still surprised when she answered the question with a kiss.

A/N 1: Ten points to Gryffindor if you caught the throwback to Misguided Ghosts. XD

A/N 2: I cut it off at the exact middle of the story. It's kind of an awkward place to stop, but I'll post the second half tomorrow. Trust me, it gets better. ;)

Happy Halloween, guys!