Doesn't Know

1.7

Edited/Rewritten

Halloween was the one time of year Y/n could go all out with her costume and not be judged for it—or so she told herself every year. The truth was, she often regretted it halfway through the night. This year was already shaping up to be no different, thanks to Rodrick's insistence that they go as Harley Quinn and The Joker.

"Rodrick, I haven't even seen any Batman movies, let alone read the comics," she'd complained when he first pitched the idea. She'd even tried bargaining. "Last year I let you pick, and you made me be a zombie bride. Can't I—"

"Nope," Rodrick had interrupted with his trademark smirk. "Too bad, sweetheart. You're Harley this year. Now go commit to the bit."

So here she was, standing in front of her bathroom mirror, tugging on a pair of black fishnets she had to buy in the sketchiest aisle at Party City. Next came the miniscule red-and-blue shorts that screamed bad decision, and finally, the infamous crop top emblazoned with Daddy's Little Monster.

She cringed. "What even are these movies about?" she muttered to herself, pulling the shirt on. Then, after a pause, she added, "Actually, do I even wanna know?"

Her phone buzzed on the counter, displaying a blurry reference picture of Harley Quinn in all her chaotic glory. Resigned to her fate, Y/n grabbed her makeup bag and started on her hair and face. She split her hair into two uneven pigtails, tying one with a red scrunchie and the other with a blue one. Then she got to work on the makeup—white face paint smudged just enough to look wild, dark eyeliner winged out messily, and bright red lip stain smeared deliberately down her cheek.

"God, this better come off later," she groaned, inspecting her handiwork.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door. "Hey, Princess, you done in there yet?" Rodrick's voice called.

Y/n yanked the door open, resting one hand on her hip and glaring at him. "Do I look done?"

Rodrick froze in the doorway, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, and back again. His smirk slowly crept up his face. "Damn."

She rolled her eyes. "I look like a stripper."

"Yeah, but like... a really cool stripper." He grinned, clearly unbothered by her glare.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Why does this shirt say Daddy's Little Monster? Like—why is this so kinky?"

Rodrick bit the inside of his cheek, clearly fighting back a laugh. "It's called fashion, babe. Look it up."

"Creep!" Y/n snapped, noticing his eyes drifting downward toward her shorts.

"What?!" Rodrick protested, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. "I'm appreciating your commitment to the character!"

"Appreciate somewhere else," she shot back, storming down the hallway with him trailing behind, still grinning.

When they reached the living room, Rodrick's Joker makeup kit was sprawled haphazardly across the couch cushions. He plopped down on the sofa and gave her his best pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Help me with my face?"

Y/n crossed her arms. "Only if you promise not to make weird comments about my costume for the next twenty minutes."

"Deal," Rodrick said immediately, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested he was lying.

With a sigh, Y/n pushed him flat onto his back and swung one leg over his waist, straddling him to get a better angle.

"Uh..." Rodrick blinked up at her, clearly caught off guard. "Not that I'm complaining, but...what are you doing?"

"I gotta be able to reach, dumbass," she muttered, grabbing the yellow sponge and dabbing it into the white face paint. She ignored the way his hands instinctively settled on her thighs before he quickly moved them to his sides, as if trying to behave himself.

As she worked, she caught him sneaking glances at her out of the corner of her eye. "Rodrick," she warned, dabbing the sponge harder onto his cheek.

"What?" he said innocently. "You're in my personal space. I'm just observing."

"Observing what exactly?"

He didn't answer, but the way his gaze lingered on her lips and neckline told her everything she needed to know.

"You're impossible," she said, shaking her head as she started painting around his eyes.

"Yeah, but you like me anyway," Rodrick shot back with a grin.

"Debatable."

The two fell into a rhythm as Y/n finished his Joker look, carefully smudging the black around his eyes and perfecting the blood-red smear across his mouth. She was just adding the finishing touches when Greg suddenly burst through the front door.

Greg stopped in his tracks, taking one look at Rodrick's makeup and smirking. "You look pretty," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rodrick rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. "Shut up, Greg."

"What? I'm just saying, the lipstick really brings out your eyes," Greg added, dodging the sponge Y/n chucked in his direction.

"Out," Rodrick growled, pointing toward the stairs.

Greg raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Have fun with your girlfriend," he teased, retreating upstairs.

Rodrick groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Why do I live with him?"

"Because he's your brother," Y/n said, patting his chest.

"Not a good enough reason."

She laughed, sliding off his waist and onto the couch next to him. "You're lucky I don't make fun of you like Greg does."

Rodrick snorted. "Please. You're worse."

"Maybe," she admitted, grabbing her phone and snapping a quick picture of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Just documenting your transformation into a beautiful clown," she said, holding up the picture.

Rodrick groaned again, but there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. "You're the worst."

"And yet, here we are," Y/n said with a grin, pulling him to his feet. "Now come on, Mr. J. Let's go terrorize the neighborhood."

Rodrick smirked, sliding an arm around her waist as they headed for the door. "Only if you promise to call me Puddin' at least once tonight."

"In your dreams, creep," she shot back, though the playful smile on her face told him she didn't entirely mean it.