HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MY DARLINGS! Are you ready to get FREAKY?!?!?!

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The following Death is my BFF short story was inspired by the movie, "Freaky Friday," and does not line up with the current novel you are reading, "Death is my BFFLAD." It does not necessarily follow the future of the actual Death Chronicles.... 

            "Five years!" I exploded, smacking a dish towel against Death's bare chest, "We've been together for five years. Five long trying years with a lot of stress weight fluctuations, and you still won't do a single load of laundry? Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh-huh, I'm listening," Death said distractedly, lifting another Cool Ranch Dorito to his mouth. He was lounged back on the couch with an arrangement of Doritos, Spicy Funions, sour patch kids, Takis, with a flat screen in front him displaying a Saw III. "Something about you getting chubby..."

Fuming, I put my hands on my hips and slid in front of the television screen. Death leaned over to peer at the screen around me and bits of chips crunched under his elbow. "Babe, you're in the way. This is the best part!"

"Aw, I'm sorry, are my muffin tops blocking your viewing time? They must be crowding our bed, too. I hope that couch is super comfy, since you'll be sleeping on it tonight."

Death finally tore his gaze from the TV and blinked. "Huh?"

"You said that I'm fat," I said slowly. "You called me chubby."

Death's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed "I did?" When he continued to look at me with a dumb expression, I lunged forward and grabbed an armful off all his snacks, including the Doritos remaining in his hand, ripping it right out of his gloved fingers.

"Hey! What the hell?" he growled, his mismatched green eyes flashing to life. "You better give me back my Takis, woman!"

"Listen here, Grim Butt. You have to start pulling your weight around here. A weight, which, is much heavier than I am. Just saying."

Death peeled himself off the couch and rose to his egregious height. "Alright, alright, can you calm down? I didn't mean to call you fat. Are you really picking fights again? You've been up my ass all week about every little thing."

"I have not, Death. You refuse to help out around here, and you've made it blatantly obvious that you're stuck in the caveman era, since all the "womanly" chores are to be done by the only woman in the house. I'm tired of it."

He wiped a few crumbs absently off of his tattooed abs. It was so unfair that he could eat anything he wanted and still look like, well, a god. The only aspects of him that showed that he'd been letting go of himself was the longish length of his obsidian black hair and his two weeks' worth of stubble. "I help out around here..."

"Oh, so you're going to vacuum up the bits of man dirt and chips you just flung all over the carpet?"

He stared down at the floor, picked at his pierced nose, and shrugged. "Cruentas will lick those up."

"That's IT!" I threw his snacks at him and stormed off to the bedroom. "I'm not cleaning the bloodstains out of your t-shirts anymore!"

Death followed me close behind. "Hey, hey now hold up! Just because you stomp away doesn't mean the conversation is over. You're the only one capable of get that blood stain out of my––"

I slammed the bedroom door in his face.

"Ever since we saved the world," Death said, manifesting beside me with spirals of dark black mist, "you've turned into the Nagginator 2000." He mocked the rest in a high-pitch voice. "You never eat my vegan cooking, Death. Stop killing every new friend I make when they're male, Death. Give me more affection when you return from a demonic sacrifice, Death. I'm needy and want you here more for cuddles, Death. Nag-nag-nag. It's bad, babe. I sat on the toilet for three hours yesterday just to get away from you."

"I thought you said you had diarrhea?!"

"Yeah, from that damn vegan casserole you made! My ass hole felt like a fucking fire breathing dragon afterward. And I'm not supposed to get mortal illness!"

I gasped.

Death's eyes widened as he quickly backtracked. "Just kidding, sweetheart, it was delicious and nutritious––"

I turned my fury onto him and the room lit up from the light dancing across my fingertips. Energy fired out of my hand and Death went flying, landing halfway on the bed. Raising himself up onto his forearms, he swatted at the flaming strands of his now shorter hair and glared at me.

"You fried off my locks!" he hissed.

"You were starting to look like a Neanderthal! Someone had to do it."

"Maybe I'm tired of cutting my hair every two weeks because my hair grows so freakishly fast!"

"Don't surprise me you don't want to cut your hair, that would require you getting off of the couch!"

"Great transition, Wonder Nag!"

"I do not nag! You're a big child in a man's body, so I need to micromanage every little thing you do. I have classes every day this week because I'm behind on credits because of all the supernatural shit we had to endure for the past three years. Maybe if you didn't act like you were stunted at age twelve, instead of age twenty-two or however old your crusty ass is stuck at, I wouldn't have to order you around so much!"

"Wow, you're real bitchy today." Death lounged on the bed like a lazy cat with his hand propping up his head. "Playing with crayons and smelly markers all day long must really take it out of you."

"Ugh!" Furious, I fired another blast of energy, but he deflected it with an easy movement of his wrist and grinned.

"Too slow."

I made an inhuman noise. "You have no idea what my college is like," I seethed. "Art school is extremely time consuming and takes dedication. And give me a break, you're unemployed! You have a thousand other annoying duplicates of yourself working at all times while you watch television and pig out with human food you can't even taste!"

He sat up on the bed, his grin vicious now. "Annoying duplicates? I don't remember you being annoyed with them last month in Hawaii. A little massage oil, assorted fruits, and two of my dicks is the Nagginator's kryptonite."

My face burned.

I grabbed a pillow and lunged to attack him. "URGH––!"

"I'm guessing this a bad time again, my lord?" asked a small voice.

Frozen with my pillow suffocating Death's face, I looked up, to find Glenn at the side of our bed. Death yanked the pillow off his face and straightened into a sitting position, gazing at Glenn over his shoulder.

"Glenn," Death grated out, slipping into his stupid "I'm the tough guy Prince of Darkness." "What are you doing here?"

Glenn snapped his fingers, and a massive brown bag appeared in his hand. "I brought the Chinese food you requested, my lord." He glanced between my furious expression and Death's. "I can...leave the food on the kitchen table, my lord?"

Realizing I was straddling Death's lap and he conveniently had both his gloved hands cupping my ass cheeks, I pushed him back down onto the bed and threw myself off of him. "Seriously, dude? I was making vegan meatloaf tonight, you knew that."

"Exactly..." Death rubbed the back of his neck, muttering to Glenn, "Did you get the egg rolls?"

"Yes, my lord. Egg rolls, Kung Pao Chicken, Orange Chicken, General Tso's, two orders of dumplings, fried wontons, four orders of lo mein and fried rice, all in the bag."

"Sweeet." Death crawled forward on the bed to snatch the bag from Glenn and then lounged back against the pillows with an egg roll swiftly stuffed into his mouth. He rolled his eyes back into his head with a groan. Glancing at me, Death worked his jaw around the mouthful of food and offered me a bite. "You gotta try this, Cupcake."

I turned away, slid off the bed, and strode to my closet to get my Nike sweatshirt.

"Great, now she's ignoring me," I heard Death whisper to Glenn.

"My lord," I heard Glenn say from deep in my walk-in closet. "There's more news I thought you might want to acquire. From Hell."

"Well?" Death demanded, and the bed shifted from his big weight as I imagined he stood up. "Spit it out."

"There's a local situation, involving a few Fallen that were captured last week. A drug lord is using their blood to sell on the market. Apparently, mortal drugs aren't cutting it anymore."

Death didn't say anything for a moment. "Can't have the mortals dabbling into Fallen blood, or else they'll all get hooked. But why are you telling me this and not Lucifer?"

"Well actually, Lucifer already knows. He wants me to start presenting you and Faith with some clean-up jobs to handle around NYC. Quite frankly, sir, since you saved the world, you and girl's arguing has been out of control. Lucifer thinks this would benefit your relationship. Remind you that you are a team." Glenn cleared his throat. "I believe you should take this opportunity, my lord."

"I don't think kicking a few mortal's asses is going to satisfy Faith's incessant need to make herself and me unhappy," Death said.

I slipped the sweatshirt over my head and exited the closet. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I implied," Death said with a shrug. "I'm sick of you yelling at me about every little thing because you're stressed at college. I've been collecting souls and working for over two-thousand years, and I'm undeserving of some me time? Your life is perfect, Faith. Easy. Really, it is. Let me live mine the way I want to."

"You need a serious reality check if you think my life is perfect. I'm still trying to figure it out."

"Cookie?" Glenn asked, reaching into our bag of Chinese food to pull out two fortunes.

"I guess," I said bitterly, and he tossed me a fortune cookie.

Death snatched his cookie from Glenn's hand "You're dismissed," he said.

Glenn bowed and vanished.

Death and I looked at each other for a long moment, defeated. He reached toward me, but was faster and stormed out of the room, grabbing my keys off a hook in the kitchen.

"Faith, come on," Death said, exiting the bedroom with his cookie pinched between his gloved fingers. "Don't leave upset. I'm sorry, okay?"

"I'm going to get a dress for tonight. You can figure out what you're wearing to the party, or you can just stay here. I really could care less."

"You're this mad because I left a few crumbs on the carpet?"

"All I said is that I'm going through a tough time right now at college, and you haven't had my back at home. I can't be the one doing everything little thing around here!"

"Which is exactly why we should get a maid."

"I don't want a maid! I want a normal life with a boyfriend who cares about me and what I want to do with my life." I took a deep breath to prevent myself from crying. "And you, you can't seem to give me that."

He clenched his jaw, rolling the fortune between his fingers. "Maybe I can't."

My stomach dropped as I backed away from him. Pulling open the door, I exited the apartment and slammed the front door behind me. At the verge of tears, I pressed my back against the door. Glancing down at my hand through tear-flooded lenses, I unwrapped my fortune cookie and broke it open.

"A journey soon begins," I began to read as I felt compelled to do so, "its prize reflected in another's eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love with change you back." I rolled my eyes and started toward the elevator. "Whatever."

The ground suddenly shuddered to life, quaking as if the building were about to split in half. Screaming, I grabbed onto the wall and tried to stay upright, but the force of the quake was so powerful that I hit the ground hard, my head banging against the ground. I prayed it would end as my life flashed before my eyes. And when the earthquake ended, our apartment door flew open and Death sought me out. I grabbed onto him and let him pull me inside the apartment.

"You okay?" he asked, checking the sides of my face for injury. "You're bleeding. I'll bandage it."

"I'm okay. I'm okay, really." I noticed he held the paper on the inside of his fortune cookie in his palm. "I think it was just an earthquake."

Death strode across the apartment to his cell phone. "An earthquake, in NYC. Let me contact Lucifer, this could be an attack."

Suddenly my vision went in and out. A splitting headache fractured the inside of my skull. Death stared down at his phone with an unfocused look, blinking slowly as if trying to fight a wave of sleepiness. In unison, we toppled to the ground, and the black veil fell.

***

I blinked groggily into awareness, staring up at the ceiling without any memory of how I'd gotten on the floor of and my apartment. I frowned. Lifting myself up with the sensation that I was heavily drugged, I turned my head and saw me lying on the ground twenty feet away.

Oh god. Oh god. I was dead! I was dead, and my dead head was pounding with an incessant headache, and holy shit––I was starving. So, this was what it felt like to be a ghost? Hungry with a constant headache?

Hm, not much different than my everyday life.

I stood up, feeling as though I was drugged, and my limbs were a thousand pounds. I honed all of my focus into getting to my corpse, but instead clomped clumsily over to a nearby wall. From across the way, there was a bloody cut on her––my forehead. What happened to me?

Staring down across the room at my body, at the verge of tears, I leaned onto a wall for support and went bug-eyed at the hand––my hand–– which slammed with much too much force into the wall and fired through dry wall.

"What the fuck?" I shouted and stilled. That voice. His voice. The deep, luscious drone of masculinity with a hint of an unmarked accent. "Oh hell no," I said, and again Death's sexy voice spoke at the same time from my mouth.

I looked down at myself, at the hulking frame that wasn't mine, and screamed like a girl, but my baritone voice wouldn't reach the correct octave and so it came out in a low crackly croak. Legs that could have been tree trunks. Abs that were so deep and carved that they looked like blocks of cement from construction work. Tattoos. With a trembling gloved hand, I flicked at the bulge of my crotch and cringed inwardly at the pain that ensued.

"That was stupid," I hissed.

"Nice!" shouted a high-pitched voice. My gaze darted to me across the room, alert and on her feet. Her blue eyes were lowered to her chest as she cradled my boobs in both hands. "Weird dream, but I'll take it!"

"Paws off the melons!" I exclaimed, and it ended up coming out as a roar. Pots hanging from a hanger over the kitchen counter blanked together and the lights flickered. Darkness swarmed around my body like snakes, and I swatted them away. "Ew! Ew, go away–you–you shadow things!"

Faith's gaze shot up to mine mid-boob squeeze and stared at me with her brows furrowed. "Faith? Cupcake?"

"Death?"

"No fucking way," said Death. "You're in my body, and I'm in your body?"

"Good detective work, Einstein! Now fix this!" I smacked my concrete abs once. "Fix this now, because I'm thinking about a lot of angry, vicious things. I feel like a walking testosterone catastrophe waiting to happen."

"Damn," Death said distractedly, putting a hand to his chin––my chin, as he evaluated me like an art appreciator. "I look sexy as fuck from your eyes." He twirled a finger in the air. "Could you give me a one-eighty?"

"Will you cut it out?" I demanded. "We're trapped in each other's bodies!"

"We'll switch back, we have to," Death said in his usual, 'I know everything, I'm a trillion years old' way. "Although," he continued, blue eyes shifting rapidly back and forth, "my mind is suddenly conjuring of a thousand different case scenarios to worry about. If this is a curse, we could be stuck like this for an eternity. And if we try to get help, maybe the wrong people will find out about this and seek to destroy me–– aka you–– and take my throne. I could be a laughing stock after this. My glorious name could be smeared. What if my metabolism has changed because you're in my body? What if I get love handles? What if I start to rapidly age and turn ugly? What if I get a pimple?" He gasped. "Will I have to handle a period in this body? No.... Oh fuck, oh fuck, I feel anxiety... I feel..." He turned my skin ghostly pale and gripped the sides of my skill. "So many emotions and worries––!"

I lunged forward to grab a throw pillow from the couch and threw it at myself. "Get a hold of myself! We're going to figure this out!"

"Figure this out?" he glared. "You just threw a hissy fit for thirty minutes and chewed me out because I left a few goddamn crumbs on the carpet, and you expect us to figure this out?"

"What other choice to we have?"

"I'll call on Ace." He wiped a hand down my face, an eyebrow quirking as he looked into the distance. "First thing tomorrow."

"First thing tomorrow?"

"Yeah, um, Ace is off today." He shrugged. "If you'll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom––"

"Oh, no you don't," I said, blocking his way. "You are not going to use my hand mirror and play with myself!"

"Faith, please, show some maturity here. I have to pee. Do you want me to soil yourself?" He brushed past me with a smirk the size of Texas, when I grabbed onto him and threw him out of the kitche and into the living room. He landed clumsily on the couch.

"Stop touching my body!" I shouted.

"Oh, you mean, like this?" He flipped my hair and righted himself on the couch. "Alexa, play Ciara Goodies." Ciara started blaring throughout the apartment as Death hopped onto the coffee table and twerked my ass. He smacked my butt.

"Wow, real mature!"

Hopping off the coffee table, he stuck out my chest and jumped up and down a few times, jiggling my breasts. "I'm not touching them, so it doesn't count."

"Oh you think you're funny, huh?!" I started to jump too, making his junk jiggle. "How you like me now, huh? Huh? You like this? You like this?" I hopped closer and ground up against him––er––me. "How about I helicopter your face with your own weenie! Is that what you want?"

"Quit humping me with my dick!" We moved around the living room, him jumping away like a pogo-stick, and me trying to grind against my own body. We entered the kitchen once more with the center kitchen counter dividing us. "My dick is a thing of legends, not a toy!"

"A thing of legends," I mocked with his deep, purring voice. "I'm Death, and my dick is an ancient arrrrtifact. I Death and I god amongst morrrtals. I so much better zan everyone else and kould never do anything wrrrrong because I perrrrfect. Blow me and vatch ze dust firrrre out my weenie."

Death seized his jumping. "What the hell accent is that? I don't talk like that."

I held Death's strong arms out in an upside-down L, as if I was too muscular to put my arms down at my sides. "You make Death angry! Me smash!"

"How about I impersonate you? See if you like it?" He flipped my hair over my shoulder. "Like, oh my god, he-he. I love art and like, annoying everybody with my opinions." He flipped my hair another direction. "Like, oh my god, I'm totally, like, going vegan again, now that I've seen you eat rare meat, Death. Like, ga-ross. He-he. But, like, I still love your raw meat––"

"AAAHH!!" Barreling toward my own body, I slipped on a puddle on the floor and felt like a T-Rex without any brakes, slamming into the refrigerator, leaving a big dent on the door.

"Ooooh," Death said, pointing at me with my recently purple painted nails. "You ruined the new fridge."

Scowling, I pried Death's bulky shoulder out of the indent on the fridge and bent down to sniff the red puddle of juice on the ground. "Yeah, because I freaking slipped on the Hawaiian Punch you spilled on the floor this morning! The juice I asked you to clean up!"

Death narrowed my eyes. "Or maybe... the Hawaiian Punch crept out of the fridge and spilled itself?!"

"You think this is funny, don't you?" I fumed.

He smirked. "Yes. Feeling a little heavy under the waist? Remember, when you take shit, wipe away from the balls. Makes things a lot less messy. And trust me, it gets messy. I literally ate my weight in Burrito's this morning."

"I am not pooping in this body!"

He glanced down at himself. "Fine, but you have to pee. Am I allowed to use the bathroom now?"

"No!"

He threw out his hands. "Oh, come on! Let me play with your woo-hoo a little before we switch back."

"Focus, dumbass," I said, clasping my shoulders with Death's massive gloved hands. "What was the last thing you were doing before we switched bodies? Right after I left the apartment?"

Death shrugged. "I ripped ass the moment you closed the front door. Does that count?"

I gave him a flat look. "Can you act serious for five seconds and quit making poop and fart jokes? I have class today, Death. How am I supposed to show up, like this? With this big titanic body and meaty hands? No offence."

He faked laughter. "I know what I was doing before we switched bodies." Bending down, he picked up a piece of paper off the floor and held out to me. "I was reading my fortune..." He trailed off as he read the paper. "Ah, fuck."

"What does it say?" I grabbed the fortune from him and read it. "Wait, this is the same fortune that I got. I read it right before we switched bodies."

"Which means it's some sort of spell," he said, and then fury ripped across my features. "Glenn."

"You think Glenn did this?"

"It had to of been him. GLENN! GLENN!" Flipping a strand of hair out of my face, Death prowled over to the knives and pulled out a steak knife. "Devil's forked tongue, he can't hear me when I'm you. I need you to call on Glenn. Now."

"You are not killing Glenn, Death."

"He needs to be disciplined. You don't understand our laws."

"Death, please, put down the knife. You're acting ridiculous."

"Call on Glenn, or else the first thing I'll do when I'm back in my corpse is make sure that you're disciplined."

Although a part of me was intrigued by the thought, it was time to stay focused. "Maybe there's another way," I said. "A way to reverse the spell."

"I don't need another way," Death hissed, cracking my neck to the side. "I going to chop Glenn's hands off and feed them through his nostrils until he fixes us. Then, I'm going to tape his eyes open., resurrect his entire bloodline, and destroy them in front him, one by one, alternating between a battle axe and a war hammer."

"Death," I said. "Put the knife away and cut it out, or else we're not doing that special thing you like in the hot tub again."

Bringing my head back, Death put the blade reluctantly back into the kitchen holder. "You're no fun." Crossing my arms over my chest, he leaned against the counter and stared at me. "What's your brilliant idea then, Cupcake?"

"I have two. The fortune says when what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back," I told Death. "Which means we have to understand where we're both coming from." I put my hands on my hips. "I have class in an hour, and you need to be there. There's your chance."

"Piece of cake," he said. "Should I sharpen my color pencils before or during class?"

I ignored that. "I have to do something to understand your life." I put my hands on my hips. "Who's next on your To Kill list?"

"Absolutely not," Death hissed.

"Why not?"

"You are not collecting any souls, and that's final. I won't allow it. If you screw something up, it could be catastrophic. Only I am the belligerent one in the relationship allowed to generate chaos." Death scratched my jaw as if expecting there would be stubble there. I hoped I'd plucked my chin hairs. "Although, there is something else you could do, which I think will perfectly highlight the tireless work my job entails..."

"Piece of cake," I said, echoing his snarky response. "And just letting you know, I'm scheduled to get my period tomorrow and the flow is coming strong. So you better take this seriously."

"You're what is coming tomorrow?"

"My period," I repeated, and watched all color wash away from my features as Death became filled with dread. "Lots and lots of blood. Uncontrollable moods. Weird cravings. Cramps. More anxiety. You're going to need a lot of tampons, trust me."

"Tampons?" Death asked softly, gazing down at my body as if it were spoiled meat. "You expect me to stick stuff up there?"

"It's not like you haven't done it before," I quipped.

He shivered in disgust. "Yeah, we're getting this fixed today."

* * *

"One, two, three...now!"

Simultaneously, Death entered the bedroom wearing his chosen outfit, while I exited the walk-in closet wearing mine. We got one look at each other and were horrified.

I'd chosen a grey sweater, a denim jacket, and black skinny jeans with grey sneakers that matched the sweater. Styling his hair had proven to be difficult and normally I pulled my hair back when I fought, so I opted for a manbun with a few strands framing Death's face in the front. Paired with boxy glasses, Death was disguised as the Clark Kent of himself.

"I look like a fucking coffee shop hipster soloist," Death snarled, "who gets a semi whenever Dave Matthews Band plays on the radio. Since when do I wear skinny jeans, Faith?"

"I got you this outfit last Christmas, and you've never wore it. Strangely enough, this outfit was all the way in the back of our closet, in a box––"

"Hidden behind a secret door," he seethed. "Yes, I know." Under his breath, he muttered, "I knew I should have had Cruentas eat that damn outfit..."

"I don't know what you're so upset about." I turned around and looked at my butt––his butt–– in the vertical mirror on the wall. "I had to disguise you so that nobody in class recognizes you as inhuman. Plus, your booty looks Bubbalicious in these."

"I don't want my booty––ass–– to look Bubba-–whatever the hell you just said!" Death pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why don't you just wrap a colorful trendy hipster scarf around my corpses neck and strangle me into obliteration? I cannot be seen in public like that. Breaking necks is my style. Not 'I make delicate flower art in latte's at Starbucks for a living.'"

"And what," I said, motioning to him, "your outfit choice for my body is appropriate for my class? I look like a dominatrix."

Death looked down at the sparse fabric covering my body. A black teddy lingerie top and black leather booty shorts that showed half my ass cheeks. He smirked. "I'll just kill whoever sees you in it." When I continued to give him a dirty look, he added, "It's not my fault you forgot to supervise me."

"Fine, whatever, but you're wearing a long cardigan and concealing cardigan over that," I said, shaking my head in frustration. "Let's just get this over with."

Death and I entered my classroom fifteen minutes early. Since this was one of my larger classes, I hoped that nobody would notice me and followed Death, aka myself, to my usual group's table at the front of the class.

"You're making me look worse than I already look in that outfit," Death hissed under his breath, placing my backpack on the floor as he sat down. "Stop walking like you have something wedged up your ass."

"I'm trying to act low-key," I said, shooting finger-guns at the only other guy in class so far, who glanced my way from across the room.

We sat down in the corner of the room, him easily sliding into a seat, and me, gigantic and Death-like, gingerly lowering myself onto a desk and chair that was much too small for me.

"This desk is ridiculously small," I whispered.

"Now you know how I felt when you insisted on getting a small car." Bending down, Death picked up my backpack and took out a thick stack of papers, rubber banded together from both sides. "Here's the work you'll be doing in class." He tossed the stack of papers onto my desk and it landed with a thump.

"What the hell is this?" I asked.

"Souls of the dead," he said with a slow grin that would have given me butterflies had he been in his own body. "I need you to read through each deceased catalogue that I typed up and make sure there are no spelling errors. At the bottom, there should be a confirmation notice that I or one of the Reapers collected their soul. If there isn't, one you're going to write down the person's name and social security number on my iPhone and text it to Glenn. Once you've done all of this, signature each paper at the bottom and put each paper in plastic dividers. Make sure you sign the front and the back of the paper." He put a finger up and tossed me a pack of tissues. "As you're reading each soul's paper, you're going to get a mini-flash back of the life they lived, and the life left behind. Real depressing, sentimental shit the Hallmark channel would orgasm over. I'm used to blocking it out, but you're not, so... good luck."

I stared down at the papers and tissues in shock. I had no idea that Death did all of this paperwork behind closed doors. "Holy shit."

"There's nothing holy about my shit, sweetheart."

As students piled into class, I made Death collect my latest AP Studio Art project from the back of the room. As he carried the drawing back to his seat. As class began, nobody in my group seemed to even care I was there. Death was handed his critiques from my group members, and the more he listened to the way art students critiqued, the more overwhelmed he started to become.

"What's a foreground?" he whispered in my ear. "And how the heck can they tell if a damn rock is saturated or not in a painting? It makes no sense. You deserve better critiques than this, too."

"You have to have thick skin for art school," I tried to explain.

"This is such bullshit," Death muttered. "I speak every language, and these critiques are speaking in riddles."

As my group members discussed their pieces, Death was still absorbed in my critiques and reviewing my vocabulary list for the class. I watched him read more critiques on my piece and get angrier and angrier.

"No concrete sense of scale of proportion on my mountain?" Death smacked his desk, startling my group members. "What the hell, Jimmy?" He motioned to the landscape I drew. "Faith's––I mean, my–– conception of this city in ancient Rome is impeccable! It looks just the city, believe me. What, are you jealous because your river looks like a three-year-old did it with finger-paint? Or are you just mad at the world because you're twenty-four and can't grow a full beard?"

"Ms. Williams," scolded a sixty-something year old man wearing a sweater vest. "You're disrupting the class. This is so unlike you."

Death leaned back into his seat and crossed my arms over my chest. "Did I ask for your opinion, Granddad?

I nudged Death in the side. "That's the professor," I hissed.

"Oh." Death put a hand to my forehead as if he were faking a fever. "Oh, oh, the chills. The hallucinations. I'm not feeling so good, Mr. McDuff. I think I might be crap myself."

I covered my face with a gloved hand and shook my head in embarrassment.

Mr. McDuff's brow furrowed with concern. "I'm sorry to hear that. You're welcome to leave early." My professors' eyes slid to me and narrowed. "Oh, hello. I don't recognize you. Who are you?"

"Uh––uh, me Caesar," I said gruffly. "No speak English."

"He's a foreign exchange student," Death explained in a sugar-sweet voice. "I'm his helper for the day, Mr. McDuff. Since I'm so caring, studious, intelligent,"––he flashed a seething look at Jimmy––"and draw remarkable mountains." Reaching next to his desk, Death bent down to search around into my backpack, and I was suspiciously aware that it was the exact dagger he insisted on packing in my bag. "I have a note about Caesar if you need proof...?"

"It's okay, I think I got an email about him," said Professor McDuff. "Carry on or leave early, if your––er––bowels are upset. Up to you, Ms. Williams."

"That class was brutal," Death said, once we got back to the apartment. "How the hell did we get a C on that piece? Unbelievable. I haven't done a class presentation in.... well, ever. But I know I deserved an A. We're an A student. Hopefully our final portfolio piece grade makes up for it, or Jimmy gets his head out of his dick hole." He lifted up one of my arms and fanned. "Fuck, I'm still sweating like a whore in church. Is this part of pre-menstruation or something?"

"It's called stress," I said.

"Oh. Then I suppose I should relax." He opened the cardigan covering my body and cocked his head. "Can I use the bathroom now?"

"No!" I blew my nose into a tissue.

"Are you crying?" Death seethed, racing to draw the blinds on the living room windows as if concerned someone would see us. "In my body?"

"If I have to read one more of these horrible pieces of paper," I said and blew my nose into a tissue again. "I think my tear ducts are going to explode. This man," I sobbed, holding up a piece of paper, "He left behind a three-year-old daughter. How sad is that?! How do you do this on a daily basis?"

"You get used to it, I guess." He took the papers from my hands. "Devil's horns, give me those, before you flood the apartment."

"We haven't switched back," I said gloomily as we flopped down onto the couch in unison.

"Well, at least we're together," Death said. "Being trapped in my girlfriend's sexy, tight little body isn't the worst thing that's happened to me."

"Aw," I said, propping Death's head up as I attempted curled his long legs up onto the couch and angle Death's body toward mine. "You think my body is sexy and tight? Not chubby?"

He leaned back into the couch. "Of course, you're not chubby, Cupcake. And even if you were, I'd still slam that thickness. You feel me?"

I laughed. "You have a way with words."

Death turned toward me, fiddling with my fingers. "I was wrong," he admitted, which was something he didn't say too often. "About art school being easy. You have a lot on your plate, and I can feel how stressed you are. I'm sorry I was inconsiderate."

"I think you have it a little worse," I laughed out. "Between those papers and the actual soul-reaping, and the duplicates... How the heck do you focus when you have duplicates running all over the place?"

He blew out a breath. "It's...complicated. And again, I'm used to it, but I don't think I'd be able to do it if I didn't get to be happy in this body." He looked at me "The one I use to spend time with you."

"I want to kiss you, but I think it'd be really weird kiss myself," I said.

He shrugged. "I would totally make out with myself. Just don't whip out my own knob and ask me to play with it, because that would definitely give me nightmares for months."

I playfully punched his arm. "I've had to pee for an hour, but I don't want to hold your thing over the toilet. What if the pee fires out at an ungodly speed and breaks the toilet?"

"That very well could happen," he said. "All you do is point and piss. Point and piss. Sing it with me."

"Point and piss, point and piss," I sang with him.

"I see you two are getting along," Glenn said, scaring the shit out of us.

"You!" Death snarled. "You tricked us!"

"Well, actually," Glenn said, and his image shimmered away, and a familiar warlock stood before us. "Ace tricked you. Bonjour."

"No way," I gasped. "We were conned!"

"Everyone around you was getting tired of your bickering," Ace said, "and when Glenn came to me for help, I happily obliged. With an exchange of a free four-month Chinese food delivery from him, of course." He slid an egg roll from out of his pocket and took a big bite. "I love these rolls of eggs. Anyway, you two have learned your lesson, yes? I'm afraid after tonight, this spell might be a bit tricky to reverse..."

Death and I gazed at each other before quickly answering, "Change us back!"

Ace slammed his cane into the ground and the apartment shuddered to life. A headache split behind my temple, and before I could process anything at all, there was blackness.

"Faith," said a deep, pleasing voice. "Wake up, I'm naked." My eyelids fluttered open, and I stared into familiar mismatched eyes.

"Oh my god," I said, sitting up quickly. My hands roamed my body­­––my body–– and I let out a cheerful screech. "I'm back! You're back!" I noticed a sparkle on the coffee table and scanned the living room in disbelief. "And everything is clean! It's a miracle!"

"I cleaned, while you were still asleep," Death said proudly. "Figured I'd start pulling my weight around here. I also pissed and put the seat down."

"You put the what down?" Throwing myself onto Death, I placed a thousand kisses on his handsome face. "Oh my god, I am so happy we're back. And I'm so happy the apartment is clean. Did you Windex the windows?"

He nodded distractedly, his hands drifting over my hips. "All glass surfaces..."

"What about the book shelf? Did you clean the bookshelf?"

He put his face next to my ear, tickling the skin with his breath, and whispered, "Took each book out individually to dust."

I shuddered. "This isn't a one-time thing, right?"

"Definitely not," Death said, his wicked gaze settled on my breasts. "I'm going to do it many, many times."

"Really? You mean it? But maybe we should make a cleaning schedule. I could totally organize that. Like, we can alternate back and forth with certain chores during the week?"

"I like that," he said with a low laugh, kissing my throat. "Or we can do it every day, every hour, all the time. I'm a fantastic multitasker."

I pulled back from him. "We're not talking about cleaning anymore, are we?"

His mouth collided with mine, and the rest of the night was freakier than our Freaky Friday.  

THE END.

* * *

SCREAM CUPCAKE IF YOU LOVED FREAKY IS MY BFF!!!

*Dracula Voice* But KAT ve vanted the sexy time? 

Sorry, you're going to have to wait for that in the actual series. *EVIL LAUGHTER*

Stay tuned for the EPIC finale of Death is my BFFLAD! I'm so excited, and I've kept so many secrets about book 3... ;) 

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