Mix and Match
Fic O'Ween Day 8 (because it's still before midnight for me): Picking someone else's costume
Haven't done a social media fic in ages! I missed my boy Olli something fierce. Thanks @lumosinlove for the characters and @noots-fic-fests for the prompts!
Take 1: James Potter
“Hello, MTV, and welcome to my crib.”
“Try again.”
“I think I should be allowed to call it my crib.” James spread his hands with a crooked grin. “C’mon, I spend more time in here than my actual house some days.”
“Your line is hi, I’m James Potter with the Gryffindor Lions.”
James raised his eyebrows and pointed at someone behind the camera. “Not all the Gryffindor Lions are here, though. Our pride has been shrunk. We’re prideless. We Jurassic Park’ed some lions.”
“Look out, they bite,” another voice commented off-screen. The camera swung to catch Sirius Black just as he ducked behind an audio table.
James was laughing when they came back to him, but shook it off with a few flails of his arms and legs. “Alright, bringin’ it back around. Hi, I’m James Potter with the Gryffindor Lions, and my Halloween costume this year is…drumroll, please…”
A few pages of wrapping paper fluttered to the ground from his eager hands as he dug into the gift bag at his feet.
He made a delighted sound as he pulled a pair of binoculars free. “Is this a [expletive] birdwatching outfit? Oh my god! Oh, [expletive] yes, look at this shirt.”
He hung the binoculars around his neck and pulled a loudly orange-and-pink shirt free from the bag, holding it next to his head so the full pattern of turquoise parrots and flamingoes could be seen. Two massive palm fronds decorated the shoulders. Laughter filled the room off-camera.
“I’m obsessed. I’m keeping this. Does it come with shorts or should I bring my—yes.” James gasped and held up the pair of cargo shorts that had been folded at the bottom. “I needed a new pair! My last ones ripped right up the [expletive]. Who picked this?”
“Jackson.”
James blew a kiss to the camera. “Love you, Nado. You have exquisite taste.”
Take 2: Finn O’Hara
Finn gave the camera a suspicious look while he dug through the bag. “If it’s a leprechaun costume, I’m suing.”
“It’s not.”
He didn’t seem convinced; at least, not until he pulled a shirt free and gave a shout when he saw the front. “Oh my god, no way!”
The back was blank, but whatever had been printed on the front had him looking around the rest of the room with pure childlike joy.
“Who did this? Was it you?”
“Show us, Harz.”
Finn whipped the shirt around. Massive red letters read,
I 🖤
HOT MOMS
in the style of a classic New York tee, followed by,
(yes, yours)
below.
“Look out, Gryff,” he warned. “I’m conversational in Spanish. I’m attempting to learn French. Somewhat fluent in English. None of you are safe. Oh my god, I get to wear my heart sunglasses with these. It’s all coming together.”
Take 3: Remus Lupin
“Yeah, that was me,” he laughed. “It’s from Manhattan, too, actually. Fun fact.”
“You drove to New York for a shirt?”
“No, no, I got his brother’s phone number and we did a hand-off at the next game.”
“That takes so much planning.”
Remus scoffed. “Come on, Marlene, I’m always planning.”
“You’re playing checkers, I’m [expletive] your dad.”
The room broke into laughter. “Exactly,” Remus said. “Except it’s you’re playing checkers, I’m Venmo’ing your brother twenty bucks.”
“What’d you get?”
“I feel wire and plastic, so I’m scared.” He squinted into the mass of wrinkled tissue paper. “Is that…yeah, it totally is.”
The stethoscope was comically small and violently purple. He draped it over the back of his neck and held up the stamped heart pattern on the back for the camera to see, then reached back in for a tiny lab coat that barely fit his arm in one of the sleeves.
“Christ, is that a headband?”
The elastic of the band was a similarly aggressive lilac shade. Remus put it on and switched the headlamp on with a bitten-back smile. “Really getting back to my roots here,” he said. “I still don’t think those guys believe I’m not, like, a medical doctor.”
“This one was from Olli,” Marlene informed him.
“Nevermind, it’s perfect and I love it. Nailed it, Halla.” Remus gave the camera a thumbs-up. “Ten out of ten.”
Take 4: Sirius Black
“What the [expletive]?” Sirius turned to face the room as he dug around blindly, bewildered. “Is this a jersey?”
He glanced inside and a laugh burst out of him.
“Is this my jersey? This is my jersey!”
Something fell onto the floor when he lifted the jersey and shook it out. Sure enough, a thickly-stitched,
Black
12
filled the back.
Sirius frowned. “Where’s my…wait, how old is this? Who got this?”
“Finn.”
“This is my rookie jersey.” He turned it around and checked the sleeves. “Yeah, this is—this is from my first year, what the hell? Where did you dig this up?”
“You dropped something.”
“Huh?”
Marlene must have pointed, because he looked down and immediately back up again with a soft groan.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope!” Finn shouted from far, far away.
“I’ll [expletive] get you,” Sirius said, picking up a small pair of hairdressing shears to show the camera. He pointed them at Finn next. “You can’t hide in that doorway forever.”
Take 5: Olli Halla
“You’re way more excited about this than everyone else so far.”
Olli laughed, folding a piece of the wrapping paper in his lap. “I hate finding Halloween costumes. This is perfect. I never have time to find a good one. Ah!”
“What is it?”
“It’s pajamas!” he said, thrilled. He stood to hold it at its full length beside him: green fleece, enormous plastic eyes, and a zipper from crotch to neck. “It’s, um, haalari? I got teased for it a ton as a kid. Halla, haalari. Is this from Timmy?”
“Yeah,” Marlene answered, audibly surprised.
“We were talking about it the other day.A one-y?”
“Onesie.”
“And it’s a frog!” Olli shook his head, still laughing. “I’m bringing this on the next roadie. You’ll see me in it on the carpet. This is the best.”
Take 6: Timmy Jones
He paused with half his arm in the bag and made eye contact with someone off-screen. “Are these nylons?”
“No.”
Timmy raised one eyebrow. “Feels like nylons.”
“It’s from Cole.”
“Oh, we’re good.” He put a hand over his heart. “Phew. What did the duckling…oh!”
The child-size set of pink, glitter-coated fairy wings sent the room into a wave of giggling. He shrugged them on and sifted through the bag before coming up with a tiny golden crown on a headband.
He stood and gave a spin that shook the wings, grinning. “Bam. Wanda. Hottest fairy godmother on the block.”
“Is Reyes going as Cosmo?” Marlene asked.
“He better be.”
Take 7: Cole Reyes
“So—okay,” Cole began. “Full transparency, I already have a costume, but I figured it out after the deadline for this, so I was still eligible.”
“Can you explain the deal?”
“Basically, this is public shaming,” he said as he pulled the bag into his lap. “Anyone who didn’t have a costume by October first had to be part of the video. And Knutty cheated, ‘cause he’s reusing an outfit from a concert he was at this summer.”
“Twice!” Finn called.
“What?”
“He got the hat for Beyoncé, dyed it pink for Chappell Roan, and he’s dyeing it back for Halloween.”
Cole looked back to the camera and pointed his thumb in Finn’s direction. “See? Totally cheating.”
“Still counts,” Marlene declared. “Get crackin’, rookie.”
“I can already see what he got me.”
“What?”
A felt beak emerged first, followed by a golden fleece body with fabric feathers glued to the arms. The feet took a minute of finagling to pull free: two enormous, slipper-like monstrosities of bright orange fleece stuffed like a plush toy. “It’s a duck,” Cole explained. He squeezed one of the feet and it gave a plasticky quack. “A really, really big duck.”
“Duckling,” Marlene corrected.
“Who was it?”
“Pots.”
Cole looked back at the onesie with a sigh. “You know, I don’t hate it. I froze my [expletive] off last Halloween. Not sure how the quacking-with-every-step is gonna go, though.”
“Olli got a onesie, too. A frog.”
“Olli could pull it off a lot better than me.”
Take 8: Jackson Nadeau
“That [expletive].” Jackson jabbed his index finger at someone by the far wall. “You. I have to wear this?”
“Yes,” Marlene answered.
“All of them?”
“Every single one!” Sirius called, gleeful.
“They signed them?” Jackson took a handful of cardboard circles out of the bag, then turned aside to laugh for a moment before digging out several more. “Oh my god…”
“Show us a couple,” Marlene said.
“Sorry, I’m…” He held his handful out in a wonky fan. “Okay, so, I think literally everyone on the team drew an eye on the front—can you see them all? This is incredible—and then they signed the backs with their, like, puck signatures.”
“You’re not allowed to sell them,” Sirius piped in. “For the record. It’s on video.”
“Boo. They’re all different, too, look. Did you guys have a coloring class or something? How did you get so many?”
“Not important.”
Jackson came up with a fresh roll of duct tape next, moving the bag to the ground so he could pile the cardboard eyeballs in his lap. “This is insane.”
“This is the most creative one we’ve had so far,” Marlene noted. “Nobody else’s was done by hand.”
“You mean nobody else got homemade eyeballs to tape to their body? Shocking.”
“Please don’t tape them to your skin,” Sirius said, sounding rather pained.
Jackson glanced over with a look of faux-innocence. “What do you mean? I thought I got a free wax with my Halloween costume that’s going to traumatize children?”
“You’re our last one of the day,” Marlene said. “Had to make it count.”
“Well, I definitely won’t forget a costume ever again.” Jackson picked up one of the eyeballs and held it up to the camera with a significant look. “Careful out there this holiday weekend, Gryffindor, and watch out for stray lions. I’ve got my eye on you.”
