(( The following is a chapter for Always-Second-Best who won a prize for me mostly because they did, like, at least half of the exotic butters competition and partly bc I like giving prizes. Enjoy!! (if it's a bit different to what you were expecting, I'm really sorry!)

*and btw, ^ I try to use they by default but please never be afraid to let me know what your preferred pronouns are!! I'm accepting of all pronouns and I always try my hardest to use them. I don't find it offensive if ur like "thanks but I'm she/he/they/xe" etc. ))

This is a Dead Set AU. Not to be considered canon! It's a bit early for all this messy stuff... 

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The night was dark. Fog was rolling in on the horizon and stars were bring blanketed by sheets of ominous cloud. Cars rolled past slowly - too slowly - children with chocolate around their faces banging at the windows and begging their parents for 'one more house'. 

Scott glanced over at his boyfriend. 

Vincent was looking the other way, staring at a house that had cobwebs hanging from the trees and gravestones placed in the front yard. His fingers were loosely wrapped around Scott's, and he had a lollipop in his mouth.

It's been fifteen minutes and thirty seconds, Scott narrated to himself. He wasn't sure when he'd started counting. Or putting on a Morgan Freeman voice inside his head. But it had happened and he'd accepted it. The subject still hasn't noticed his boyfriend's sulking. 

With the slightest of perfectly-executed sighs, Scott pulled his hand away from Vincent's and crossed his arms over his chest. He risked a glance over at his boyfriend.

Vincent pulled the lollipop stick from his mouth and dropped it unceremoniously on the ground. No recognition of having noticed Scott's self-pitying sound.

 Scott waited another seven seconds (the perfect time between 'too soon' and 'the moment is lost') and then let out another sigh. 

"You can do that all you like, I'm not sorry," Vincent muttered under his breath, without even looking at Scott.

Scott whipped his head around and glared viciously. "It's Halloween, Vincent!" he snapped. "Tonight was supposed to be a date! With romance!"

"You call that romantic?" Vincent pointed over to a house a little way along the road. There was a hyper-realistic statue of a man reaching out to grab at the children who walked past. The flesh was melting off his bones and one of his eyeballs was dribbling down his face like an uncooked egg. 

Scott looked at it for a moment. "Who would put that in their yard?" he breathed, his grudge on Vincent momentarily replaced by a mixture of disgust and sheer incredulity. 

"My point exactly," Vincent's arm fell back to his side. "I hate Halloween, Scott. It's for little chocolate-hungry greedy brats and pedophiles. And no matter how much you threaten me with sleeping on the couch, I am not wearing a costume. Suck it up. You're lucky I'm out here at all." 

Scott's eyes narrowed once again, "I'm moving out," he threatened. "And I'm lowering your wages at work." 

"No you're not," Vincent replied, his voice hard enough to cut diamond. It wasn't a rebuff. It was a command.

"Watch me," Scott snarled.

 "Shut up, Scott, and watch yourself," Vincent growled back. "You're really starting to irritate me."

Irritate. Scott fell silent at once, dropping his gaze submissively. That was the word they'd chosen together. The safe word. The word for when Vincent was starting to get uncomfortable. Jumpy. On edge. Irrational.

In short, it was the word they'd chosen for him to use when he became possessed by the itch to kill somebody. 

Scott quickly found his heart becoming heavy in his chest. Tears rushed to his eyes and threatened to spill over, smudging his face paint. He couldn't believe it. All he'd wanted was a night out with the man he loved, but who was he kidding? He was in love with a man who wanted to kill him. 

And there it went. 

Scott stopped walking, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face into his hands. Tears tainted black with paint dripped into his hands, as if they were going to stain his skin forever. The cool night air pressed against his shirt, children's eyes drawn to the man who had just broken down on the pavement. 

Scott heard the slightest rustle of fabric, a small rush of air that told him that Vincent had turned to look at him, had stepped forwards so that he was in front of him. Scott could feel the shadow towering over him, and he cowered. 

"Scott...?" the voice was almost confused. Scott opened his eyes just enough to look through his eyelashes, through the cracks between his fingers. Vincent was distorted, his white eyes blurred, his purple skin smudged and menacing, and Scott realised that he knew nothing about what Vincent really was. 

Hands reached out for him and Scott was struck through the core with terror. "Please!" he yelped, batting Vincent's arms away as he leapt back. "Please, don't!"

And the silence that followed spoke volumes.

Scott's eyes were wide, the breath caught in his throat. What have I done? Like this, in the fresh October air, Vincent wasn't threatening! Especially not when he was looking at Scott like that, with those large, sad eyes, as though his heart had been broken in two.

"So... that's how it is, then," he whispered, his eyes dropping to Scott's feet. "I knew this was coming. It's only so long after you tell someone you're a psychopath that they start thinking..."

"I..." Scott choked on his words, the tears building up again and silently rolling down his face. "Oh, God, Vincent, I'm so sorry. Oh, God, wha-what-what have I...? I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm-" 

"No. It's fine," Vincent said. "I told you, I saw this coming. You wonder why I never told anyone about my ASPD, Scott? This. This is why. I reach out for you and you act like I'm holding a knife to your throat?"

"No," Scott croaked, shaking his head, "No, it's not like that, Vincent! I just... I just..." his words were lost, drowned in a fresh wave of sobs. "I was... You wan-wan-wanted to h-h-hurt me, thought about killing me. You said it yourself, used the safe word, and I... I just thought..."

"Oh God, Scott, no..." Vincent stepped forwards once again. He reached out, and Scott let him gently caress his cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb. "I wasn't thinking that, Scott. I wasn't. Scott Keegan Adams, you are the light of my life, and I would never, ever dream of hurting you." 

"B-But you-" Scott looked up at him, his eyes wide and confused, "But you s-s-said. You said I was irritating you and that means... that means..." 

"Oh, Scott..." Vincent leaned forward, pulling Scott into his chest and clutching him there. "You weren't irritating me, Scott. It's my stupid fault. It's all my fault, because I'm an idiot. An idiot who still gets anxious every Halloween, just because when he was a boy, he was reminded every Halloween of his life that he looked like a freak. A purple, glowing-eyed freak." 

Scott's breath hitched by Vincent's shoulder, he looked up at him, "Oh. Oh, honey." He unwrapped one arm from Vincent's torso and wiped at his smudged and blackened eyes, trying to stop the tears. "...You should have just told me. I wouldn't have forced you to go out tonight if I knew..."

"I know," Vincent whispered, "I know, but my pride was too stubborn, and I didn't want you to think I'm just weak. And now look what I've done. I ruined everything. I made you cry. I made you think I was going to hurt you, Scott, and that hurts me a lot more than any insults ever could." 

Scott shook his head gently. He pressed a kiss against Vincent's shoulder, "No. You haven't ruined anything. I love you, Vincent. I love every inch of you. I love your skin, I love your eyes, and above all else I love that you're mine. And you never have to pretend you're strong for me, because you are the strongest man I know." He pulled away from the hug to smile at him, "And you would never lay a finger to harm me. I know."

Vincent smiled back, leaning forward to pepper butterfly kisses on Scott's face, littering his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks. 

Scott giggled helplessly, Vincent's gentleness warming him up inside and his stubble scratching against him. One final kiss on the tip of his nose, and Vincent pulled away again, "The same goes for you Scott. I scared you tonight, and that's not okay. Don't think you have to act like you're fine just because I gave an excuse for my inexcusable behaviour." 

Scott just smiled at him. Quietly, he slid his arms around Vincent's neck. "Kiss and make up?"

Vincent grinned, reaching forward and resting his hands on the curve of Scott's hips. They stared at each other for a while, drinking each other in. Then Scott's head tilted slightly, his eyes beginning to settle shut, and Vincent leaned forward to capture his lips, gently, softly, like Scott was the most fragile thing he'd ever held, and Scott responded as though Vincent was the most precious of treasures he'd ever had the opportunity to hold close. Vincent tugged Scott's hips forward gently, pressing a little more firmly into the kiss. Scott sighed into Vincent's mouth, finding himself whisked away in his taste. They hadn't kissed like this. Not in a long, long time. Not with this level of compassion, and softness and whispered messages of 'I love you so much and I've been taking you for granted this whole time'. 

When Scott finally pulled away, it was with great reluctance. His lips were reddened and his face aflame, and the message unspoken in his eyes was, 'Let's go home, Vincent. Right now, please, take me home.'

"What do you know," Vincent whispered, his own lips not moving, aching to be back against Scott's, his body, too, filled with the urgent need to get back inside the house and behind closed doors where he could show Scott really how much he loved him. "I guess Halloween can be romantic after all."