It was promptly five o’ clock Saturday evening when I knocked on Joe’s door. I whistled between my teeth, tapping my foot, arms crossed over my chest as I waited impatiently for him to open the door. It took long enough that I started to wonder if he was going to come out. The key Elizabeth had made for me was in my pocket, but I didn’t want to give up my tactical advantage so soon. So I started to bang on his door instead.

“Joe Taylor, if you don’t get your lazy ass out of your apartment right now, I swear I’m going to throw your Keurig off the balcony the next time I come over!”

The door whipped open, and my favorite blonde writer glared up at me. “Don’t threaten the coffee!” He looked so angry, nose wrinkled up. “I was just gelling down my hair, relax.”

I was speechless, my usual sarcastic retorts absent in the face of his costume. Then I started to laugh, bending over and gasping for air. I knew without looking that he was glaring at me with his wrinkled nose.

“Now I get why Elizabeth was so insistent,” he muttered. “Although, I must say… this cane might come in handy.”

His words gave me enough warning to jump back before that swinging cane would connect with my head. I frowned at him, offended. “There is no reason to assault your partner with a cane you don’t need, Watson,” I sniffed.

He almost smiled. “It’s nostalgic,” he snarked back, spinning the cane in his hand.

He did play a rather good Watson- the BBC would be jealous of how dashing he was. Of course, they’d be jealous of me, too. Every fangirl on the planet wanted to have her way with Benedict Cumberbatch. But if I stood next to him, I was sure they’d change their mind.

“Knock it off. I know that smug look- you’re not that attractive,” Joe said, swinging the cane in my direction again.

It was a halfhearted swing, easy to dodge. “Not that attractive? Meaning I am attractive, at least a little. Why, Watson, you flatter me!” I said with a wide grin.

Joe regarded me through narrow eyes, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I think your ego fits your costume.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“I knew you would,” Joe sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and grimacing when he realized it would mess up its perfect gelled order. “Now. Tell me why in the world I’m dressed like an idiot.”

I had to laugh; honestly, he was like a fucking kitten, so adorably innocent and not terribly clever. “I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. We’re going trick or treating.”

“It’s August!” he exclaimed, looked irritated with me. “Halloween decorations are still in storage. How could we possibly go trick or treating?”

My smile widened, and I stepped back from the doorway so he could see the hallway behind me. It was a pleasure to see his eyes take up most of his face.

“What in the…” he gasped, starting my laughing again.

It had been easy. Joe never came out of his apartment, and he had the most amazing headphones that would have blocked out all of the noise we made. Even though there was an underwhelming grand total of seventeen tenants, they’d all banded together under my lead to create a Halloween paradise. We went all out, and the apartment building had become a horror house.

“This, Joe, is what Halloween looks like,” I said.

He turned to face me, and my heart jumped into my throat. Joe was grinning like a little kid, his eyes bright, and damn it all but I wanted to call the whole thing off and show him a different kind of thing you could do on Halloween.

“You did this all for me?” He sounded almost breathless, his blue eyes full of this odd mix of happiness and uncertain fear.

I grinned at him, trying to reassure him. “Of course I did. I can’t read that next book until you write it, right?”

“Right. Of course, that makes sense.” The fear dissipated from Joe’s eyes.

I wanted to shake him. Really, of all the stupid things he’d done, reducing my grand romantic gesture to a fanboy’s desperate attempt to become a beta reader- it pissed me off. But I did my best not to show it. After all, one day he would understand my gesture, and I didn’t want it colored by my current anger.

“So, Helena’s first. She was super excited to try out her Halloween costume early,” I said with as bright a smile as I could manage.

Joe’s excitement died down slightly. “Alright. Let’s go.”

I could tell he was forcing himself to be brave, and it made me a little proud of him. Leading the way, I knocked on Helena’s door; she lived right next door to Joe, so at least there wasn’t much distance for the first stop. “Remember. When she opens the door, you have to say ‘trick or treat’.”

“I feel stupid,” Joe muttered, holding his basket tight between his hands. I would have turned to lecture him, but the door opened.

“Trick or treat!” we chimed together.

Helena was a sight to see. The preppy girl had turned herself into a zombie, spattered in gore, her abdomen busted open to show her guts, and nasty cuts all along her grayed skin. Joe’s mouth fell open, and then he was laughing.

“Your costume is fantastic!”

“Thanks,” she said, and I knew by her tight smile that she was blushing under the makeup. Hard not to, when Joe looked at you like that. “Here you go, guys. Have fun, and be safe.” She winked at me as she dropped little bagged brownies in our baskets- probably homemade, and I was almost drooling as I remembered how good her brownies were.

“Happy Halloween!” she called after us as we walked down the hallway.

Joe loosened up as we made our way through the apartment building. By the time we’d worked our way through his floor, he wasn’t afraid at all. He looked excited, like a toddler on his first night trick or treating. The other tenants were shocked by it, but they were quickly drawn into his excitement, and we kept gathering people to continue down the rest of the floors with us.

“This is fun,” Joe confided in me, as we all packed into the elevator. He flinched away from the others, still afraid to be touched- but he didn’t look like he was going to run away screaming, and that was an accomplishment.

What happened on the second floor was what finally broke through his wall- at least for a little bit. We knocked on Clint’s door, and waited eagerly. There was no doubt the punk rocker would have a great costume. But when the door opened, we got barely a glimpse of his rocker outfit before he shrieked like a girl and slammed the door in our faces.

“What the-”

I pressed my lips together tightly, trying not to laugh, because I knew exactly what his problem was. “Come on, Clint, you said you’d do it!”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be dressed up like that, you sick son of a bitch!” Clint shrieked back.

Joe’s eyes widened, and he checked my costume like there was something he missed. “What’s… what’s wrong with your costume?”

“Clint might be a bit anglophobic. And I might have chosen my costume to tease him,” I admitted with a sheepish grin.

Joe faked an offended gasp. “I knew you were a jerk!” he sniffed, turning his face away from me. I could see his shoulders shaking slightly, and I knew he was trying not to laugh.

“C’mon, Clint, we’re not going to hurt you,” Helena called through the door.

The sound of her voice must have convinced Clint he was safe- but the top lock of his door was still on, meaning it would open only enough to allow him to drop huge handfuls of candies into our waiting hands.

“Great, I did it, now go the fuck away until you look normal again,” he pleaded, shutting the door again.

We were all silent in the hallway for a moment. Then we broke down, and our laughter filled the building.

The rest of the night went just as well. Nobody else slammed a door in our faces, but by the time we made it to the little party set up in the dining room, we had thirteen of the seventeen tenants with us. Joe relaxed, and he looked almost comfortable as we argued over who had given the best candy and who had the best costume.

I walked him back to his apartment after midnight, when the party finally dissolved. “Well, there you have it, Joe. Did that help your writer’s block?” I asked, resisting the urge to playfully nudge him. I didn’t want to ruin it.

“I think it was just what I needed,” he said, his bright smile still making his eyes light up. I would never get enough of that.

“Great. Have a good night, then,” I said, saluting him before walking across the hall.

“Hey, Kisten.”

I turned around immediately, and I hoped there wasn’t too much hope in my eyes. His hand was held out toward me, and my heart stopped as he grabbed my sleeve. He wasn’t touching me, but it was closer than he’d ever come to it before.

“You wanna… come in? You’ll get to read the scene before anybody else,” he offered. His voice shook, just slightly, but enough to push him past adorable to absolutely fucking irresistible.

Damn. There went my plans of studying for the test tomorrow. But suddenly my grades seemed like the least important thing in the world. “Yeah, I’d love to,” I said softly.

Something crossed his face, an emotion that was there and gone too fast for me to name it. Then he was smiling again, small and genuine, as he turned to let me into his apartment. I trailed him to his writing room, and we fell into our usual arrangement; I sat on the beanbag couch, Joe on the floor by my legs, and I had the great pleasure of watching someone I was starting to consider more than just a friend work on a novel I knew I was going to love to pieces.