SAMCRO Halloween Party
pairing(s): jax and tara, opie and lyla, gemma and clay other characters: bobby, juice, chibs, tig, chucky, half sack, ima time period: 2010 warning(s): none really tbh. there are links throughout to various random tumblr posts that show what the characters dress as to add visuals. words: 1,791 authors note: happy halloween! i hope these costumes seem like ones that our boys (and girls) would choose for a party at the clubhouse. huge shoutout to my sister for some of these costume ideas on a random sunday night. her and i were talking last year about hypothetical halloween costumes for opie and lyla and she came up with the one they're using in this fic, so huge shout out to her for that specifically too! (playlist inspo. divider credit. divider credit 2.)
Gemma had been reminding everybody about this party for weeks.
Usually, parties at the clubhouse we're reserved for more nefarious means, like Bobby's homecoming party or a patch over. Either way, the clubhouse would be crawling with people and the matriarch made it her mission to prepare.
The kitchen was chalk full of beer, tequila, and all kinds of other spirits you could think of. The bar itself had a big bowl of various types of candy, ranging from chocolates to sour candies. Blacklight's were set up all throughout the entry points of the clubhouse, casting an indigo glow against the dark wood that made up 90% of the room.
"Finally, was thinking you wound up dying on me on the way here." Gemma quipped, staring for a second at the cat ears perched on Tara's head, then down her entire costume from head to toe. "A cat, huh? Fitting."
Tara tilted her head a fraction, "Say what you mean, Gemma."
Before Gemma could elaborate and make jabs at Tara some more, Jax emerged from the back room with a lasso around his shoulder and a singular piece of hay from his lips. He tipped his hat, "You're late, darlin'. I'm going to have to take you in for a curfew violation."
Tara raised an unimpressed brow, "You sound like the villain in a bad porno."
Jax grinned and yanked the cat tail that was secured to her belt loop, pulling her into him, "And you look like the co-star."
"Careful," Tara stated, showing off her claws before leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.
Across the room, Juice was completely committed and donning cargo pants, a tactical vest, fingerless gloves, and a fake earpiece. As he approached Bobby, Chibs, and Tig, he announced his arrival in the most pitiful attempt at a Scottish accent. "Soap MacTavish reporting for duty!"
Chibs, donning a Joker costume and face paint, who was leaning forward on the table, stood up straight, blowing a plume of smoke directly toward Juice who was now to his right. "Aye, well, try not to get ghosted this time, ya muppet."
Juice pouted. "That's not canon, you know. Soap kills Zakhaev and his escorts, saving the day and all that."
Bobby, who's sporting the white Elvis get up complete with a wig and sunglasses, pipes in really quick, "And yet, I doubt he got laid. Hey, and neither did you!" Elvis points two finger guns toward Juice, then belts out a thank you, thank you very much to add to the costumes effect.
Juice went to retort Bobby's remarks but like a Las Vegas showgirl straight off the street, complete with a boa, high heels, fishnet stockings, Tig emphatically walked straight into the room with a swagger only Dr. Frank-N-Furter could. He had the whole look down, from the blue eye makeup, the heart tattoo (only his said 'Clay' rather than boss), and even a pearl necklace to boot.
"What the hell is--" Bobby spoke up first, giving Tig a very questionable look.
Tig, in his best Tim Curry nod, emulated Frank-N-Furter with ease, "I see you shiver with antici...pation."
"Dude, where'd you even find that outfit?" Juice asked, lifting one end of the boa and then letting it drop, still eying the whole thing.
"Borrowed some stuff from Cara Cara." A beat passed for a second.
"Did you shave your legs?!" Juice accused more so than asked.
Tig tilted his head and grinned, "You wanna feel?" He propped his leg up on the table and ran his hand along the side of his shin. "Buttery smooth. Smell like coconuts."
Juice swatted at his leg and grimaced in discomfort, causing everyone but Juice to laugh.
In the chapel, Clay sat at the head of the table. Clay hadn't even bothered with a costume. Instead of venturing to the party, he was focused on some map and paperwork ahead of him, letting the singular lamp near the corner light his tasks.
Bring some guns up through
Gemma rounded the bar and walked over toward Clay, rubbing a hand on his shoulder. "I told you to dress up, baby." Clay didn't glance up, just scoffed at the thought and Gemma's words. She couldn't help but dig in deeper, "You look like you rolled out of a Harley catalog from ‘75. Next year, I’m picking your costume myself. And if you bitch, I’ll make you wear spandex."
The President couldn't help but scoff again, finally lifting to meet Gemma's gaze. "I'd rather you kill me."
Gemma smirked, leaning in to kiss him.
The sun was just starting to set when Opie and Lyla arrived. Truthfully, Opie was just going to skip the party all together and maybe venture out to the cabin and hang out with his pops, but Lyla was persistent.
"It'll be fun," she stated again as she pulled into the parking spot. "Maybe we'll win the costume contest, if there's one."
Lyla was dressed up as Baby Firefly from Devil's Reject's while Opie was dressed up as Rob Zombie in the Dragula music video. Everything was accurate for the both of them.
As the two of them exited the caddy, which Opie did so with a heavy sigh, Chucky had arrived on his signature scooter, donning a Billy the Puppet get up.
Opie sighed as he shut the door, rounding the trunk to meet Lyla on the driver's side. "Dude gives me the creeps."
"That guy gives you the creeps?" Lyla asked as she watched as Chucky parked his scooter and then looked over at Opie as a laugh began to escape her mouth. "My big mountain of a man is petrified of a man with no fingers."
It was like Chucky could hear them from across the lot talking about him, so he waved. Completely oblivious. Lyla raised her arm up and waved while Opie remained stoic and silent.
"Come on, Mr. Zombie, let's go have some fun." She stated as she tugged at Opie's hand, pulling him a long with ease, because despite his outward demeanor, he was there because of her and to make her happy, so he went willingly.
The party had been raging on for a good two hours now. Everyone had settled inside for the most part, playing either a round of pool (Juice, Clay, and Bobby) or sipping on beer in a corner (Opie). Chibs was off seated on the leather couch, whispering Gaelic in some crow eaters' ear while Clay and Gemma had ventured to his apartment.
The room was beginning to swell with friends of the club, other members, and various Cara Cara girls alike. Ima had been at the party since the start, dressed as a slutty Little Red Riding Hood. It was a surprise to no one that she'd been chatting it up with all the high-ranking officers, including Jax.
Lyla and Tara had been standing by the bar, watching the night unfold over sips of whiskey. Truthfully, the majority of their conversations revolved around similar interests, like books and wine.
"You're late!" Tig barked as Kozik arrived in full Johnny Bravo costume.
Kozik simply flipped Tig off and walked straight toward the bar and getting a beer.
"Nah, I'm right on time, brother." Kozik shot back his beer and downed nearly half the bottle, "You win the costume party yet?"
Tig grinned like a cat, "First place." He paused for a moment, walking toward Kozik by a hair. "Are you my prize? Winners kiss?"
Kozik didn't take the bait, but there was a part of Tig that was serious.
Another half hour had passed now and Half Sack had arrived. The club had purposely made him do various grunt work in his Courage the Cowardly Lion costume and on a small bike. All of Charming had witnessed him riding around town which was hilarious to the lot of them.
"Numb nuts!" Jax barked as Half Sack entered the room, "Got a surprise for you!"
Half Sack glanced around nervously, expecting some form of chaos, and gulped before he walked forward. He was a few feet away from Jax when Chibs jumped out from the crowd beside Half Sack and gave the Prospect his best 'why so serious?'
Jax laughed as Tig came to Half Sack's other side, flicking his tongue against his cheek. Half Sack shooed both of them off in a huff. "Come on, guys, it's not funny. I've been running around in this costume all day and--"
"Your point?" Jax stated with his arms folded.
Tig reached out his index finger to poke Half Sack's cheek, causing Sack to swat his hand away, which in turn caused Tig to laugh.
Chibs couldn’t help but chuckle, “Go ‘ave a beer, ya daft bastard. Get yer one nut sucked. Ye’ve earned it.”
The night raged on well into the early morning hours. Bodies moved through the smoky haze, neon purple lights painting everyone in ghostly shades. Even Tig was too faded to care when Kozik looped a wig over his head and yelled “Bang, bang!” while Juice pretended to breach a hostage zone behind the pool tables.
At some point, even Clay cracked a smile while leaning back in his chair, a cigar pressed between his fingertips as he watched Bobby do a sloppy hip swivel that almost ended with him slipping on a beer puddle near the bar. Gemma rolled her eyes, but there was pride there, too. Her boys were buzzing, her clubhouse full, and for one night, no one was dead, bleeding, or on a ride up to Stockton.
Opie sat at the edge of it all, beer half-drank, shoulders relaxed. A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth as he stared out at the chaos. Half watching, half not.
Tara had fallen asleep on Jax’s shoulder, cat ears askew. He rested his cheek against her hair, eyes soft in a way only she ever saw.
The music slowed and the laughter thinned. One by one, the patch members dozed off as boots were propped on tables, heads dropped onto arms. Even Gemma had loosened her grip on the night, her witch hat hanging lopsided off the back of a chair.
Outside, the wind had picked up. A rusted sign creaked under the weight of it. The reaper on the wall stared out in silence, painted grin cutting deeper under the flicker of a dying porch light.
Because even on a night like this where every ghost felt quiet, Charming never forgot how to haunt its own.
For a few more precious minutes, the Sons slept, completely untouched by the world, and that was a rare kind of peace.
