InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Trick or Treat ( Chapter 18 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"Just look at your daddy, being all serious and completely forgetting that it's Halloween, and that he should be changing into his costume before everyone gets here for the party!"

Dropping his pen on the yellow legal tablet before him, Ben glanced up, only to stop before he could look away again as Charity stood in the archway of his office with the twins, which wasn't really surprising, but what they were all wearing . . .?  Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest, and he smiled.  "And who are you supposed to be?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took in the wide-skirted dress, complete with lace-trimmed petticoats, that kind of reminded him of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, but the pinafore was white, and the blouse underneath was a pale pink.  Her hair had been caught back into pigtails of soft ringlet curls, topped off with a little white lacy cap, tied with a ribbon under her chin.  If it bothered her ears, he wasn't sure, but he figured that she wouldn't be wearing the accessory if that were really the case.

She giggled.  "I'm Little Bo Peep," she told him, "and these—" she jostled the babies in her arms, both of whom were wearing cute, fuzzy, fleecy blanket sleepers with hoods pulled up over their heads, complete with adorable little round ears on top, even if neither of them looked exceptionally pleased by the addition of the headgear, "—are my sheep!"

"Very, very cute," he said, pushing back the chair and using the armrests to push himself to his feet.  "I am to assume that you have a costume for me?"

She nodded.   "It's laid out on your bed . . . I'll take the twins to Mama and Papa, and then I'll be in to help you get ready."

"Okay," he said, pausing long enough to kiss each of the babies before tilting Charity's chin with a crooked index finger to brush a quick, light kiss on her lips before heading out of the room.

'Ben?'

Taking the stairs, two at a time, Ben wasn't paying very much attention to his youkai-voice.

'What does she mean, help you get ready?'

He frowned as he pondered that, but kept moving.

Stepping into his bedroom, he cocked his head to the side when he spotted the costume, carefully laid out on the bed.  Well, he thought that it was the costume, anyway.  It actually just looked like an old-fashioned dinner suit.

He'd just finished changing slacks and was buttoning the small-spread collared white lawn shirt when Charity stepped into the room with a bright smile.  "Oh, good . . . I looked at some of your clothes, but even though you can buy the right size on paper, it doesn't mean that it'll fit properly," she said, her skirts whispering as she slowly circled around him, giving him the critical once-over as Ben took his time, buttoning the convertible cuffs.

"Do I need cufflinks?" he asked, only half-teasing.   "This doesn't really feel like a costume . . ."

Face screwing up in a thoughtful frown, she tapped her chin as she deliberated his question, only to finally shake her head as her smile resurfaced once more.  "I suppose if you wanted to, but I can't say that I recall him ever actually wearing cufflinks."

"Him?" Ben echoed, shaking his hands to adjust the sleeves of the dress shirt.  "'Him', who?"

She giggled.  "Count von Count!"

"Who?"

Picking up the black vest, she handed it to him to put on and reached for the crumpled black silk cravat.   "You know: the count."  He still looked rather confused.  Charity rolled her eyes but laughed.  "From Sesame Street!"

He paused as he set the vest aside and tucked in the shirt.  "Sesame Street?  That's who I'm supposed to be?"

She nodded happily.  "I even got purple makeup for you."

He snorted.  "You want me to be a . . . puppet . . .?"

Another nod and the double-damned flash of that dimple . . . "Yes."

Honestly, he could think of about five thousand reasons why he'd rather not dress up like a character from Sesame Street—and only one good reason to do it.  Unfortunately, that 'good reason' was smiling at him, damn it all . . . He sighed.  "Do I have to wear the makeup?" he asked pointedly.

She wrinkled her adorable nose at him, and that just figured.  "Well, no-o-o-o-o . . ." she drawled slowly as he absently thanked his lucky stars for the little cap that hid her ears from his view since he was relatively sure that those particular appendages were probably wilting with her perceived disappointment.

He heaved a sigh and pulled the vest on.  "Okay, I'll bite.  Why did you want me to be Count von Count?"

She smoothed her dress and carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, the cravat and her hands settling demurely in her lap.  "Well, you do have pointy ears, just like he does."

"Okay."

"And fangs."

"Okay."

"And you both have black hair."

"Okay."

"And you both look very nice in your suit."

". . . Okay."

She giggled, her cheeks pinking as she shifted a little uncomfortably.  "And when I was three, I wanted to marry Count von Count—because he was so smart that he could count past fifty."

Ben's lips twitched.  He felt it.  Clearing his throat, he held out his hand for the cravat.  "Okay, and that means you want to marry me, too?"

Mouth dropping open as her cheeks exploded in crimson color, Charity gasped in the quiet.  "I-I-I—Y-You . . ."

"Okay," he relented with a tumultuous sigh.  "I'm sorry.  I was teasing.  No purple face paint, though, deal?"

"Deal," she agreed as her smile widened despite the color that was still riding high in her cheeks.  "Be glad, Ben.  Chelsea suggested that I find a Little Boy Blue costume for you, instead."

He shot her a double-take to see if she was being serious.  She looked like she might be, which was even more distressing, come to think of it . . .

Still, he took the cravat and tied it around his throat under the tabs of his collar and fussed with it for a minute, turning to look at his reflection in the mirror as he rolled his eyes.  "I haven't worn one of these in more years than I care to think about," he informed her with a shake of his head.  "Hated them back then, too . . ."

"Oh, I think you look very nice," she said, holding out the jacket—with the silly cape attached at the shoulders and across the back.

He heaved a sigh and took it.  "The more clothes you add, the sillier I look," he pointed out mildly.

She giggled and handed him the pièce de résistance: a monocle.

"A monocle?  Seriously, a monocle?"

"Put it on!  Put it on!"

He spared her a last, long look before he did as she asked.  "I look like Mr. Peanut," he remarked with a sigh.

She giggled.  "You do not!" she insisted.  "You look very nice!"

"If I look so nice, why do you keep laughing?" he countered mildly.  "Or that stuffy old rabbit from that cartoon, Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends . . . Mr. Harriman. . ."

". . . You watched cartoons?"

"Only when there was nothing else on."

She lifted a hand, pressed her fingertips against her lips to keep from laughing outright, so there was that, at least . . .

"If you draw a moustache on me, I could pass for The Penguin . . ."

"You'd have to stuff your shirt, then, because he's pretty chubby."

He shot her a, 'You're-Not-Helping' look, and it didn't matter that she was still covering her mouth because her eyes were still sparkling way too much.  "Or the mayor of Townsville."

She did giggle at that.  "I loved the Powerpuff Girls!"

He snorted.  "Or the guy from Monopoly."

"You're making it worse," she laughed.

"Or Allen Walker."

"D. Gray-man?"  She rolled her eyes.  "That wasn't a monocle, it was an anti-akuma weapon!"

He nodded once, conceding her point.  "That was a pretty good anime."

"Yes," she agreed, her smile widening. "Yes, it was."

He sighed again as he opened his mouth to say something, only to catch sight of the weird hairy thing in her hand.  "What's that?"

"Well, you need to at least wear the goatee if you're going to be Count von Count."

He stared at her for several moments to ascertain if she were being serious or not.

She was.  It just figured.


"Oh, she's so cute!" Gin gushed as she scooped up Nadia and cuddled her close  The baby blinked her huge eyes, staring at the diminutive woman, as though she were trying to make sense of the clown paint that hid Gin's face from view.

"Such a sweet clown!" Sierra squealed as she hurried into the room with Emmeline in her arms. "That's adorable, Gin!"

Gin wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "It's the only thing I could find that fit," she complained.  Then she glanced across the room where Cain was standing with Ben, and she giggled.

"And how hard was it to get Dad to put that on?" Bas asked as he slid an arm around his mother and gave her a quick squeeze.

Gin's giggle sounded a touch nervous, in Charity's estimation, which wasn't entirely surprising, given that Cain was a much taller and not nearly as round, version of a clown, too.  "We-e-e-ell . . ." she hedged.

"Never mind," Bas grumbled, his cheeks pinking below the thick scruffy stubble that he hadn't bothered to shave off, probably in preparation for his 'costume' . . .

"What are you?" Charity asked, raising an articulated eyebrow at her first-cousin-once-removed.

Bas blinked, slowly sipping his beer.  "Me?  I'm a lumberjack."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, mostly because he didn't actually look much different.  A red and black plaid flannel shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and a pair of Brahma boots were his costume, and he grinned.  "Cheater," she said with a shake of her head.

Bas chuckled.  "Better a cheater than to end up looking like that," he replied, lifting his index finger from the beer bottle to point at his father.

"Oh, I think he looks adorable!" Gin intoned, placing a hand against her son's chest, as though to stop him from continuing on in his harsh assessment of his sire.

"Or . . . that . . ." Bas muttered, eyebrows lifting for a brief second before they pulled together in a marked scowl as he eyed his grandfather, who had just stomped into the room with his grandmother in tow.  "Oh . . . wow . . ."

Charity turned to look and gasped when she spotted InuYasha, and she leaned in closer to Bas without taking her eyes off of him.  "What . . . in the world . . . is he wearing . . .?"

Bas grunted, his expression a strange cross between complete revulsion and abject fear.  "I . . . Uh, think . . . He's supposed to be Tarzan . . .?"  He sighed.  "And I never, ever want to see that again . . ."

Intercepting the horrified expression on Bas' face, Kagome laughed softly, adjusting the one shoulder strap of the brown faux fur dress she wore.  "We played poker last night," she admitted.  "InuYasha lost—Royal straight flush!"

"Wench!" InuYasha muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as his cheeks exploded in crimson flames.  "You cheated—I know you did!"

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

Toga stepped over to hug Charity, who shook her head when she got a good look at her father in his costume.  She wasn't sure where he and Sierra had managed to put theirs together at such short moment, but she had to admit, they looked pretty darn good.

"Alucard, huh?" she said as her smile widened.

"It was your mother's idea," he replied with a grin.  "She makes a damn fine Integra, doesn't she?"

"She does," Charity agreed.  "You actually look . . . pretty accurate."

"Better than Yasha-ji-chan?"

"I heard that, Toga!"

Toga chuckled again.

The chime of the doorbell rang through the house, and Toga glanced over her head to see who was arriving.  Charity looked down when someone tugged on her hand, and she smiled when she saw Olivia standing there, gazing up at her with her tiny hands clenched behind her back, as she pivoted from side to side without moving her feet.  All decked out in an excellent version of Belle's famous yellow ball gown, she held out the sides of the skirt for Charity's inspection.

"Well, hi, sweetie," she said, hunkering down to be closer to Olivia's level.  "Aren't you just beautiful?"

Olivia nodded slowly, her bashful smiling widening by degrees.  "Baiwee's da Beast," she said.

Charity laughed since she'd already seen Bailey, who actually looked beyond offended that he had to dress up to match his sister.  Daniel was wandering around, shadowing Bailey, but he hadn't actually said much of anything since they arrived.  Bas said before that the child was in shock, and it broke Charity's heart to watch him.  Entirely too serious, too morose . . . A boy that age shouldn't have to be made to understand the loss of not only one, but both of the parents he loved . . . Couple that with the Superman costume he was wearing, and, well . . . Charity sighed.

"Oh, kami . . . What the hell is he wearing . . .?"

Casting her father a questioning glance as she picked up Olivia and stood, she turned to follow the direction of Toga's scowl, and she could only blink.  And stare.  And slowly shake her head . . .

"Oh, that's kind of like a . . . train wreck," she murmured, unable to drag her eyes off the spectacle that was Evan Zelig, who apparently thought it'd be great fun to dress up like a ballerina, complete with the fluffy pink tutu and slippers—and tiara, as well . . .

Valerie was beside him, but she was dressed as a classic cat burglar, and when she met Charity's gaze, she slowly shook her head.

Olivia squirmed around in an effort to get down, and Charity sat her on her feet so that she could dash over to her . . . uncle . . . with her hands up in the air.  He scooped her up and kissed her cheek, leaving behind a very lurid shade of red lipstick in the shape of his mouth on her baby fine skin, and she giggled.  "Uncle's pwetty!" she proclaimed.

Toga sighed.  "I can think of a few good words to describe him, and 'pretty' isn't one of them . . ." he muttered.

"Good God!" Evan blurted, eyebrows lifting as he spotted his father.  "What the fuck are you, Cain?"

Cain heaved a sigh and slowly shook his head.  "A non-cross-dressing clown, son."

Charity pressed her lips together to keep from laughing outright as Evan broke into a wolfish grin, and Valerie heaved a sigh.  "I told him he looked utterly ridiculous," Valerie explained in an infinitely weary tone of voice.  "And then, he decided to walk down Park Avenue—Just.  Like.  That."

Gin giggled.  "It kind of makes you realize exactly how pretty he would have been if he had been born a girl!"

Bas heaved a sigh.  "How is this my gene pool?" he grumbled as Gin's giggling escalated.

"All right, Cherry.  Where are those babies?" Evan asked, turning to face her.  He grinned as he pulled Valerie against his side.

"My mom and your mom," Charity replied with a rueful smile.  "And congratulations on your baby!  You didn't waste any time, now did you?"

Valerie blushed just a little but smiled, too.  "Temporary insanity," she said.  "It's wearing off now, though . . ."

Evan chuckled and kissed Valerie's cheek, looking ridiculously proud of the lip marks he left on her cheek, too.  "That's okay, baby. I'll be happy to drive you crazy tonight, all over again."

"Behave yourself," Valerie warned, smashing her hand in the middle of his face to push him back when he leaned down to nuzzle her throat.

"Ruin my best plans, why don’t you?" he complained despite the grin that was still plastered on his face.

"It's my job, Roka" she stated flatly.

"I want another kiss, too!" Olivia insisted, grasping Evan's face in her tiny hands and forcing him to look away from Valerie.

The doorbell rang once more, and Charity smiled, watching Evan kiss Olivia as he and Valerie headed over to meet the twins.

Turning as the brush of a foreign youki swept over her, she frowned when she spotted Myrna, dressed as a very voluptuous witch, standing just inside the living room next to Gunnar, who hadn't bothered to dress up at all.  He had stopped her and her friend: a platinum-blonde woman that Charity had never seen before.  She had an interesting aura, Charity noticed.  She wasn't entirely sure why, but it reminded her vaguely of her grandmother, Kagura, though Charity was hard-pressed to put her finger on why it was so.  A swan-youkai, she realized as a curious frown surfaced on her features.  Crossing her arms over her chest, she didn't even try to pretend that she wasn't openly staring.

The woman smiled at something Gunnar said, flicking open a hand fan that perfectly matched the old-fashioned kimono that she wore—a beautiful, blood red silk with iridescent threads spun into it that shimmered with a decadent luminescence in the light of the room.  Something about her bearing, her demeanor . . .  "Do you know her?"

Charity glanced up at her father then back at the stranger once more as she slowly shook her head.  "No, I've never seen her before in my life . . . Do you, Papa?"

Toga sighed.  "No, but it looks like he might . . ."

Peering up at him, she blinked at the strange expression on her father's face.  If she didn't know better, she'd almost think he was angry about something, but . . .

Following the direction of his gaze, Charity's brow furrowed.  Ben still stood near the fireplace with Cain, but his attention was focused fully upon the new arrivals, and the look on his face—the way the color drained from his cheeks as his eyes widened, as his mouth dropped open just a little . . . Seconds ticked away as he inclined his head to one side just slightly, as though he were trying to come to grips with something, as an expression of absolute recognition slammed down on his face, along with the barest hint of a smile as he took one step forward. "Manami . . .?"

The woman stopped, her head turning as her gaze swept over the room.  The spike in her youki was nearly a palpable thing as her fathomless, dark eyes flared wide, as the soft gasp that escaped her echoed in the suddenly-silent room.  What little color she had in her porcelain-like skin seemed to vanish for a split second, just before a wash of rosy color shot to the fore, giving her an even more cherubic-like visage.  "Benjiro . . .?"

The flash of recognition in Ben's eyes was hard for Charity to stomach, and yet, she couldn't quite make herself look away, either, when the woman lifted the slightly trailing hem of the kimono and ran straight toward Ben, straight into his arms as he caught her, and there was no hesitation when she rose up on her toes . . . And she pulled him down into a kiss . . .