Chapter 67: The Halloween Couple's Costume
"You look ridiculous."
Penny's examining me in the Superman costume she rented. Full outfit—suit, cape, boots. Even the ridiculous curl in my hair that she insisted on.
"I look heroic."
"You look like you're going to a very specific birthday party."
"A birthday party for JUSTICE."
She laughs. "Okay, that was good. But you're still ridiculous."
"Says the woman in the 1940s pencil skirt."
"I'm Lois Lane. This is professional reporter attire." She adjusts her press badge. "See? Authenticity."
"The skirt's not authentic to any decade."
"The skirt is authentic to my legs. Which are fantastic."
Hard to argue with that.
We're in her apartment. Halloween night. Party circuit planned—Howard and Bernadette's first, then some industry thing one of Penny's actress friends is throwing, then wherever the night takes us.
"Couples costumes are objectively terrible," I observe.
"Couples costumes are adorable."
"We're going to get so much mockery."
"We're going to win every contest." She takes my hand. "Now come on, Man of Steel. We have a city to save."
"That's not—"
"Shut up and let me have the moment."
Howard and Bernadette's apartment is packed. Thirty people crammed into a space designed for maybe fifteen.
We walk in. Every head turns.
"Holy shit," someone says.
"That's Superman," someone else observes.
"And Lois Lane," Penny adds. "Don't forget Lois."
The Attractiveness power's working overtime. The costume fits perfectly—not rented-costume perfect, but actually-tailored perfect. My shoulders look broader. Jaw stronger. The whole thing just works.
"You look like you walked off the screen," Leonard says. He's dressed as Frodo. The costume's good but he looks exhausted. "How is that possible?"
"Good genetics."
"That's not—you know what, never mind." He spots Sheldon. "Hey, Sheldon's explaining his costume. This'll be good."
Sheldon's wearing a shirt with concentric circles. People keep asking what he is.
"The Doppler effect," he explains for the fourth time. "The circles represent wavelength compression as the source approaches the observer. The red side indicates recession while the blue indicates approach. It's fundamental to understanding—"
"Nobody gets it," Raj stage-whispers to us.
"I get it," Amy defends.
"You don't count. You're legally required to get his jokes."
"That's not how legal requirements work."
Howard and Bernadette are Raggedy Ann and Andy. Cute but not innovative. Raj is himself but claims to be "Raj in a costume" which is either genius or lazy. Penny thinks lazy. I'm staying neutral.
"Costume contest at eleven," Bernadette announces. "Everyone who wants to enter gets judged."
"We're winning," Penny informs me.
"Confident."
"Justified."
We win.
By acclamation. No contest. The runners-up—couple dressed as Mario and Princess Peach—don't even look upset. They nod respectfully.
"You guys look amazing," Mario concedes.
Prize is $50 gift card to Cheesecake Factory. Penny's thrilled anyway.
"Victory tastes like free appetizers," she declares.
Second party. Industry thing in the Hills. Bigger crowd, better booze, more elaborate costumes.
We don't win here—couple dressed as Morticia and Gomez Addams with legitimate prosthetics takes it. But we place second. $100 prize.
"We're making money on Halloween," Penny observes.
"Financially sound holiday."
"My dad would approve."
"Your dad approved of me because I own businesses. The bar's pretty low."
"The bar is exactly where it should be."
Third party. Someone's loft in Arts District. Younger crowd. More experimental costumes.
We win again.
This time because Penny leans into the bit. Does the whole damsel-in-distress routine, makes me "rescue" her from the "villain" (guy dressed as the Joker who's very drunk and playing along). Whole room's watching. She commits completely. I catch her, carry her to "safety."
Everyone applauds.
"You're a natural performer," I tell her after.
"I know. That's why New York is—" She stops. "Never mind. Tonight's about costumes and fun. Not that."
"Not that," I agree.
But 'that' is there. Has been all night. The unspoken thing following us between parties.
2 AM. Walking home. Still in costume because neither of us wants to change yet.
LA's doing its night thing. Quiet streets. Occasional car. Distant sirens. The city breathing.
"This was perfect," Penny says.
"Three parties. Two wins. A hundred fifty dollars in prizes. Pretty good night."
"Not the contests. Just—this. Us." She stops walking. "Stuart, I need to say something."
My stomach drops.
"Okay."
"The New York thing. The callback. I've been trying not to think about it but I can't not think about it and—" She's choosing words carefully. "—I don't want this to end."
"Neither do I."
"But if I get cast. If they want me. That's—" She pauses. "—that's my dream. The thing I've been working toward since I left Nebraska."
"I know."
"And you have two shops here. Marvel consulting. Your whole life is in LA."
"I know that too."
"So what do we do?"
"We wait. Find out if you get cast. Then we make a decision."
"What decision?"
"Whether we try long distance. Or whether we—" The words stick in my throat. "—acknowledge that timing's wrong."
"Like with Melissa."
"Different. But similar."
She's crying. Not sobbing. Just quiet tears.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"That's so fucked up. That we love each other and timing might kill it anyway."
"Yeah. It is."
She kisses me. On her doorstep. Both of us in costume. Superman and Lois Lane having a relationship crisis at 2 AM on Halloween.
"One month," she says. "Then we know."
"One month."
"Can we just—pretend? For one more month? That everything's fine?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She goes inside. I walk home.
The cape drags behind me. Ridiculous costume for a ridiculous night where I won contests but might be losing her.
The city's still breathing. Indifferent to personal drama.
I don't take off the costume until I'm home.
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