Work Text:
Staying on Earth wasn’t his idea of a fun time. It was smoggy, crowded, and the xenophobia was apparent at every corner he turned, but Aila had missed home, and had hopelessly begged him to come with her to celebrate one of her favorite human holidays: Halloween. She had described it to him as a spooky holiday, rooted in religious meaning of some sort. Something about dressing up as demons when the veil between spirit worlds grew thin to ward off evil spirits. The pictures she had shown him of her as a child in costumes had only perplexed him more. Some were cute, like the one of her dressed in glittery wings and a small wand with sparkling strings hanging off of it, while another was of her covered in fake blood with a plastic knife, grin wry like someone gone insane. Another was of her dressed as a pumpkin, which he later learned was a type of gourd that was commonly eaten during this time of year.
From what he gathered, it was a children’s holiday. They took bags and begged for sweets at strangers’ doorsteps in the middle of the night while the adults took turns drinking and scaring one another and sometimes partaking in scaring the children as well, although the latter was a little more frowned upon. While it wasn’t a holiday he understood, he could get behind the scaring and drinking and a day off of work.
But Aila, of course, had taken it a step further.
Convinced only by her pouting face a doe eyes, he agreed to dress up after weeks of begging. Sadness was quickly traded for excitement as her plans unfolded in front of her. Little had he known that she had already purchased a turian sized costume somewhere on the extranet with funds that the Council expected to be spent wisely, and that it had been waiting for him at her home on Earth for weeks already, with her mother making alterations for it to fit.
He hadn’t known what to expect, really, but visiting Aila’s home had been something grander in his head. A large home and bustling family was what he had always imagined for a woman of her capabilities, no matter how many times she had explained the opposite. Only when he walked up to the small, single-story home that visibly needed repair did he realize just how average of a childhood she had experienced. A single mother forced to do what she needed to keep the house afloat and to fund her daughter’s way through school due to the loss of her spouse had been a feat all in it’s own; he couldn’t fault her for letting some things go.
He also hadn’t expected the smells that smacked him in the face when he walked through the squeaky door. Spices and fats mingled with sugar in the air and formed into something that they called ‘apple pie’. They took fruit from a tree, covered it in spices and sugar and layered it in between sheets of buttery dough and baked it until it was boiling. Aila had explained that they do this with most fruits and vegetables, and even some nuts and meats, although apparently, the meat pie differed from the fruit pie and some of the vegetable pies were different than other vegetable pies. He deduced that anything could be made into a pie if they were willing to try hard enough, and by the list she had idly muttered off when he asked, he had been right.
Walking through the house had been a different story entirely. Once Aila’s mother had been satisfied with her questions and had become less visibly unsettled by having an alien in her home, he had been free to follow behind the cautious eyes that checked silently that his fringe wasn’t going to take out the light shades on the ceiling or that his leg spurs weren’t going to catch on any furniture corners. He made peace with the thought that it was only for a day or two, and that it was for her.
It had been the first time he had seen her turn shy since they had first met. She kept her distance. Even though her mother knew that they were more than just work friends, Aila made a conscious effort to not do anything to signal that they were an item while under the eyes of anyone else. Maybe it had been due to past relationships gone wrong, or unspoken house rules that she had grown up with, or just the fact that from the outside looking in, one would only come up with one conclusion as to why they were together and that wasn’t the image that either of them wanted to portray.
He hadn’t tried to pry though, just followed until the door to her bedroom was closed and their small bags hit the bed. The same room he was standing in now as he stared at the green monstrosity that she had given him. Refusal to tell him what it was made him question everything, but he put in on anyway, not wanting the door to fling open and reveal his bare ass to her mother or to the nosy neighbor who had knocked not long after the door had closed behind them to verify that her daughter had brought a turian into her home.
He questioned whether or not Aila was pulling a prank as he slipped his toes into the soft green fabric and his leg spurs through the given holes of the costume. It fit perfectly, and was comfortable enough, but the dangling tube covered in spikes and sticking out at the base of his back as he slipped into the top half of the costume and tightened the front zipper was beginning to make him question what in spirits name she had just convinced him of. He tried to deduce what it was while she was in the bathroom changing into her costume by looking in the mirror on her desk and pulling the hood up and over his fringe to stare at the little face on top of his head, but he came up with nothing.
He had never seen an Earth creature with a spiked tail and in this shade of green, nor one with a rounded nose and buggy eyes. He felt ridiculous and wondered if she actually expected him to walk out in public like this. There was no way he was going to let her post pictures all over the extranet of him looking like…whatever the fuck this was. Turning to the side, he shook the tail and watched it sway behind him, its weight tugging at the fabric on his back.
At least it’s dark outside. He hummed to himself.
The door swung open.
A snort followed by various levels of laughter left her mouth that made him feel even less good about what he had just zipped himself into, but she didn’t look much better, either. A pink dot was drawn onto the end of her nose and black whisker lines on her cheeks that were shakily done at best. A black tail, somewhat matted and poorly constructed and attached to a belt, dangled from her back much like his. A little bell that jingled with every move she made hung from her neck, and fuzzy black gloves with pink pads on the bottom covered her hands.
If confusion was a person, his name was Tylus Luccenus.
He only opened his mouth after the laughter dried up. “You’re not making me want to go out in this.” He confided in her, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
The laughter never left her eyes. “No, you have to go. This is great.” She walked up and adjusted his hood that had started to slip.
“What is this?” He asked as she worked. “What are you supposed to be?”
“I’m a black cat,” she said like he should have known what she was talking about. “You know, like the pet.”
They dress up like their pets?
“They’re supposed to mean bad luck if one crosses your path, but I think they’re cute,” she stepped back, happy with her work.
“And what am I?”
“You’re a dinosaur!”
“A…what?”
“You know, the big giant creatures that used to walk the Earth before they went extinct? We have fossils of them everywhere.”
“And these are supposed to help ward off evil spirits?”
“Well…no…the black cat yes because of witches but the dinosaur is just fun,” she smiled at him.
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Hm,” she placed a hand on his mandible and turned him down to look at her. “Well, I think you’re adorable.”
The kiss that followed offered him the fortitude to endure another laughing session from her mother before they headed out of the door to meet with the rest of her family.
“I figured you’d be a little less scary if I put you into something cute,” she admitted as she walked out of the door and waved to the family members who all but shit their pants when they laid eyes on the turian in a dinosaur onesie.
The small child she was related to in a way that slipped his mind that they had agreed to walk with was instantly enthralled before Tylus could even introduce himself. Ben’s parents, who he gathered was his name by the quick yell from their mouths, froze as he ran up, their faces akin to their child running up to a rabid dog. The idle thought about the possibility of the parents not being told that a seven-foot tall alien would be joining them never made it to his tongue before he was being pulled along by the finger by the wide-eyed child whose arm was at full extension just to reach.
He tried to shake him, to give him back to his parents, but no matter what he did, he would not let go. Even the times when Tylus thought he was free, when Ben needed a break for his sore arm or found more interest in his new candy or a stick on the ground, the freedom was only short-lived. As the night progressed, he noticed the parents allowing Tylus more rein over the child he’d known for less than two hours. Talk of how scared he usually was of trick-or-treating could be heard when he walked up with him to the scarier houses, about how the people who normally scared the kids were too afraid to scare the alien, no matter how cutely dressed he was.
He hadn’t expected to be a babysitter, but the big smiles from Aila as he walked back with the happy child and the flow of conversation with her family members, who had begun to grow more comfortable around him, pushed him through the rest of the night and into carrying Ben when his legs gave out and he was ready to go home. Ben took the opportunity to ask him about his mandibles and his teeth, a trait he was sure he gained from Aila’s side of the family, as well as his talons and why he was so tall.
“Really?” he had asked when Tylus told him what kind of candy he liked. “That’s Aila’s favorite too!” It was the one thing he had remembered that he had been told before they left. Her attempt at stealing candy from a baby had worked, and all he could do was laugh as small handfuls of hard candies were handed to him in exchange for the ride home.
“Sorry about the babysitting,” Aila apologized as she wiped the whiskers from her face at her desk, both of them more tired than they should have been for just walking around. “I didn’t think he was going to like you that much.”
“It’s alright,” he hummed while he dumped the contents of his pocket onto the bed before unzipping the onesie that the talons on his toes had ripped through. “I didn’t mind. I’ve never had a child want that much attention from me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to start changing your mind on wanting children now,” she joked. A clean face and fresh clothes walked towards him and stole a piece of the candy he had dropped.
“No,” he laughed, the costume now replaced by something a little more comfortable. “I don’t think the life of a spectre is suitable for bringing up a child.”
“Not even once you quit and we settle down?”
“I’d rather we sit on a warm beach and enjoy the silence.” His fingers wrapped around her waist and pulled her in, the scent of artificial cherry flavor on her breath the only thing entering his nostrils.
The sticky sweetness on her lips was sure to leave a rash on his tongue, but that didn’t keep him from pulling her into his lap so he could savor the taste for just a moment longer.
“We should get to bed,” she panted as she pulled away, face flushed with a need he couldn’t fulfill—not here.
“About that,” he smiled. “I think your bed is too small for me to fit.”
“Oh,” she giggled, head tilting to check if his observation was true. “I think I have enough blankets in the closet for you to sleep on the floor.”
Fanart by mimitz0-o