Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sniper was not having a good time at this party. He didn’t really understand Halloween, it was an American holiday and he never really celebrated it in Australia, but his friend dragged him out anyway. From what he gathered from T.V. they had skipped many Halloween traditions, trick-or-treating, carving pumpkins, bobbing for apples. The only practice they followed through on was the dressing up part.

And that seemed to only serve one purpose: flirting. Dell, his friend, made easy pickings of the party goers, a well place pun and a wink had him dragging guys and girls into broom closest or bedrooms. Sniper, on the other hand, sulked in the corner and scared anyone off who dared tried to hit on him.

“Are you a cop?” A young man approached his dark corner.

Sniper glared at the man and replied, “Just for tonight.” He held up his fake, plastic badge.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I was hoping you were a real cop.”

“Sorry, I’m not and I’m not into any kind of role play so you can fuck off,” he snapped.

“Jeez, someone’s having a bad night,” the man said. “What’s the matter you don’t like parties?”

“No,” Sniper retorted, and when the man didn’t leave he shrugged and clarified, “and this whole Halloween thing’s a let down.”

“What’ya mean?” He asked.

“I expected more all this is, is people dressing up and having sex. I always thought Halloween was supposed to be scarier, and you were supposed to find a graveyard or something, and look at you-” Sniper waved a hand at the man’s plain clothes, “you’re not even dressed up!”

“What? Yes I am!” The man leaned his head back to show off a long, bloody cut across his throat. 

Sniper was impressed by his work and told him so, “Wow, that’s really…real. It’s really good.”

“Thanks, I uh…uh, a friend did it for me, actually,” he admitted. “So you wanna do some real Halloween stuff?”

“Uh, well, yeah,” Sniper answered, and in an instant the guy grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“I’m Scout by the way,” he said over the music and other party guests.

“I’m Sniper,” he replied. 

Sniper spent the next few hours being dragged around by Scout, the guy seemed to be searching for something but he wouldn’t say what. In between his searching Scout would tell jokes and stories, he’d point out the best costumes in the room and explain some Halloween traditions to him. Sniper was getting snippets of Scout’s personality and finding that he was a really cool guy. And a looker to boot. Scout’s search led them to the basement and Sniper had to praise the man, “Now this is what I’m talking about.”

Scout smiled and hurried down the steps, yanking Sniper by the hand. He found a pile of old boxes and began sifting through them. “Give me a hand here?”

“You gonna tell me what we’re looking for?” Sniper asked.

The young man just gave him a sly grin and kept searching. Sniper had a box of old toys, and he went through them one by one until the box was empty. He moved onto the next and found it was full of board games, one was a ouija board and he placed it on the floor next to him.

“That’s it!” Scout exclaimed.

“What? This?” Sniper held up the board and laughed. “Okay, this is shaping up to be a better Halloween.”

They set up the board and pointer piece and moved it over the word, ‘Hello.’ Nothing happened so Scout nudged him. “Ask if anyone’s there,” he ordered.

Sniper snorted, but smiled at Scout. “All right. Is anybody there?”

The piece didn’t move and Scout nudged him again. “You gotta focus, be serious here.”

“Okay, okay,” Sniper assured him. He took a deep breath and asked again, “Are there any spirits here?”

The piece fluttered, then stilled, then smoothly moved over the board to the, ‘Yes.’

“What’s your name?” Sniper asked it.

The piece moved down to where the letters of the alphabet were arranged, then it hesitated, and moved off to the side. 

“You don’t want to tell us your name?” Sniper watched the piece move back across the board to the, ‘No.’ “Okay then, why are you here?”

The piece moved to the alphabet and slowly began to spell out its response. Sniper read each letter aloud, “W-I-N-G-M-A-N. Wing-man? Who’re you wing-maning for?” The piece moved about until it spelled out, ‘you.’

Sniper chuckled and looked at Scout, he had the same playful grin on his face. “Okay, spirit, and what do you think my next move should be?”

K-I-S-S

“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” Sniper said slyly, “but who should I kiss?”

Scout had already taken his fingers off the piece and was facing Sniper expectantly, then he jumped him for a long, sweet kiss. Sniper placed both hands on Scout’s face and controlled the kiss, pushing his tongue in and tasting Scout, he tasted light and airy. They kissed until Sniper thought his lungs would give out, when he finally pulled away he enthusiastically ran his hands over Scout’s thighs, to his groin. Scout used the break to place peck after peck up Sniper’s neck and back to his lips.

Sniper spent the rest of the night with Scout, they had sex right on the basement floor, fast but intimate sex filled with laughs and the most tender kisses Sniper ever received. Afterwards, they cuddled beneath an old blanket that smelled like mothballs and slept in a tangle of limbs. Sniper didn’t care that he was being a hypocrite, at least he spent the night getting to know Scout before he undressed him, and he found that he really liked him. When they woke in the early morning Sniper was eager to make further plans with Scout.

“You want to get some breakfast, I mean it’s still dark out, but I’m starved,” He suggested.

“Sorry I can’t,” Scout frowned.

“Oh, well, do you wanna exchange numbers?” Sniper asked.

Scout dropped his eyes to the floor. “Look I gotta confess something here.” Sniper prepared for the worst. Scout sighed and continued, “Last night it was me moving the ouija board piece.”

Sniper almost burst out laughing. “Yeah I figured that.”

“No you don’t get it, it was still a ghost moving it, I’m a ghost,” Scout confessed.

Sniper’s face twisted into a scowl. “Look if you don’t want to give me your number then just say so, you don’t have to come up with an elaborate lie.”

“I do! I really wish I could! I…I really like you, Sniper, but…” Scout paused and looked Sniper in the eye. “I only got a few more minutes ‘till sunrise and the I have to go, but could you do me a favor? My bones are buried out in the old Cornwell farms, they’re beneath the red ‘A’ could dig me up? I’d really like move on, or whatever.”

Sniper shook his head with annoyance, Halloween was officially ruined. “I get it, it’s a one night stand you don’t have to-” Sniper looked around the basement but it was empty. There was no sign of Scout, and he found that very odd. He questioned each party goer, asking them if they knew Scout or how to find him. No one knew him, or had even seen him. He asked his friend Dell and was shocked by his response.

“Who is it again?” He asked, confused.

“Scout. I spent the whole night with him, you saw us!” Sniper was at his wit’s end.

“Sorry, partner, I thought you spent the whole night sulking in the corner,” Dell replied.

Sniper was getting a little scared now, there was no way Scout could have actually been a ghost. That was ridiculous, it was too out there, but he couldn’t fight the nagging feeling that it was true. He brought Dell along with him to the old Cornwell farms, found the red ‘A’ and together they dug until the found something. 

The police arrived, and it was all confirmed. Sniper felt dizzy and scared and sad all at the same time. He desperately wanted Scout to have been lying, to just have been rejecting him, or playing a joke. He felt so sick that on the way home Dell had to stop at the house that had thrown the party so Sniper could calm down. Instead of lying down or relaxing Sniper went straight to the basement and set the ouija board up.

“Scout, are you there?” Sniper asked it.

Nothing happened for some time, then ever so slowly the piece moved. He watched it glide over the letters one by one and he mouthed the letters to himself. When it was done the piece moved off the board, so Sniper moved it back. “Are you still there?” He asked, hoping, but there was no response. Part of him was devastated, another part of him was terrified over his encounter, but the largest part of him happy, in a bittersweet sort of way. The only thing Scout had spelled out was, ‘thank you.’