backstreet boys

Fiction by Pen . . . . . not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment

Two young, ordinary kids

part three of the Lance's Halloween Party trio
in which we see more of the guests and a little more of the RHPS

"These people are weird," said Nick, as they waited in the shelter of the porch while Howie parked the car.

"Mmm?" Brian wasn't really listening.

"I mean," Nick went on, "who dresses up in a raincoat and glasses on Halloween?"

"Brian isn't wearing glasses." Howie could move like a cat when he felt like it. "I'm not, either."

"Howie, are you—are you wearing makeup?"

That did get Brian's attention, and he took a closer look. "Hey, man! Looks good."

"Thanks." Howie beamed at him. "Anyway," he went on, "the raincoat isn't my costume. It's just for keeping dry. You didn't think I would go to a party in a raincoat, did you?"

"Well, but." Nick gestured down at his own costume. It was getting quite wet, now, even in the shelter of Lance's front porch. Gusts of rain kept blowing in. Brian moved prudently into the lee of shelter cast by Nick's sturdy frame. "Lance told me what I had to wear. First time I ever had to go to a Halloween party in a boring costume like this. I don't think people should tell other people what to wear for Halloween, do you?"

"Nick, does it really—" The door opened, and Brian stopped short at the sight of Lance Bass, delightfully attired as Columbia, from glittery gold top hat to neat black heels. "Good evening, Lance," he said, politely. "You look great." Beside him, Nick was making strange, choking noises.

"Thanks. Come on inside."

They stepped through. The party was very obviously under way. There were more stockings and corsets on display than a Victoria's Secret convention. His own outfit was... well, maybe rather dull, by comparison. Though not quite as dull as Nick thought. Wait, was that Chris Kirkpatrick in a dress?

"Why is Chris carrying a pitchfork?" Brian was glad Howie'd asked, because he really, really wanted to know.

"I told him to come as Riff Raff. I thought he'd go for the long, tatty robe thing, but he's, like, at the very end, you know? Where they're taking Frank back to Transylvania."

"Oh. Cool." Howie sounded very much as though he wanted to ask more questions, and Brian wasn't at all surprised when he burst out with: "What did you ask JC to come as?"

Lance grinned, transforming that innocent face into something quite different. Particularly with the eyeliner, an' all. "Frank, of course."

There was a reverent silence as Brian and Howie considered that.

"The bar's right over there," Lance told them, "and you can put your coats in this room here. Enjoy yourselves!" Brian watched him go. Really, a sight to behold.

Beside him, Howie sighed. "Frank. Wow."

"Frank who?" said Nick, aggrieved.

Brian put a comforting hand on Nick's arm. "I'm so sorry, Nicky, we missed out on educating you properly. You didn't even know who you're supposed to be, did you?" And his mouth fell open, because Howie had taken off his raincoat.

"Howard!" Nick squeaked. "You can't—you can't go out like that!"

Howie smoothed the tiny white apron down over his little black dress. "No? I think it's kinda cute," he murmured, fluffing his curls and fixing a large bow into his hair. As he raised his arms, the dress lifted.

"Cute, my ass," Brian said, under his breath, but Howie obviously caught it because his smile broadened.

"I'm going to take a look around," he said, and sauntered off, high heels clicking purposefully on the shiny wooden floor. Brian was not at all surprised to see him go straight towards the same door Kirkpatrick had disappeared through.

"Close your mouth, Nick," he said absently.

"But. But. He. Whatwasthat? Oh my GOD!"

"You like it?" Brian was rather proud of his own costume. He'd taken a lot of trouble to get the shoes right.

"You—you're—you—You're wearing a bra!" Nick spluttered. "And those are girl panties!"

"Real silk," Brian said, happily.

Nick sat down abruptly on the nearest chair. "So, how come I get to wear a raincoat and you guys are all cross-dressed and stuff?"

Brian extracted his wig from a raincoat pocket and shook it out. "I'm gonna have to take you to a showing. You'll love it, trust me. For tonight, I guess you could strip down to your boxers."

"No, I can't."

"Don't worry! You saw what it's like out there. Boxers will be just fine. But you'll have to keep your socks on, it'd look wrong otherwise."

"I'm not wearing boxers."

"Briefs, then. Actually, I guess briefs are better." Nick's mournful shake of the head gave him pause. "No briefs. Man, you're not wearing a thong, are you?"

Nick looked up at him, miserably. "I'm not wearing any..."

"Oh!" This was a good party. Pity they wouldn't be staying long. Almost a pity. "I guess you'll have to stick with the raincoat, Brad, honey."

"Dammit," said Nick.

"Janet," said Brian, and smiled. "Let's go find the bar."

 

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