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Chapter Text

Were it not for his Captain America costume, Sam would have felt naked. For the first time in weeks, he'd removed his penguin costume, and not even because of Janet and Natasha's pestering. A recent strike from a purple fire demon had burnt through his costume as though it were made of hay and had been dipped in gasoline before the fight. Wearing what was left of it probably would have broken the school dress code.

Enchantress brushed past him, the back of her broom hitting against Sam's shield. She turned around and shot him a glare before returning to her previous conversation, chattering like a parrot into a bright pink cell phone.

So much for the power of friendship, Sam thought. To think, only a few hours before the two had been having a dance contest together.

Leaves crunched under Sam's feet and a soft breeze sent goosebumps rising up across his skin. The late summer heat had finally rolled out, and with each passing day the temperature fell lower and lower.

Around him, costume clad students rushed past him. Pirates, ghosts, witches, princesses, and giant ants weren't even the weirdest things he'd seen at this school. Still, he couldn't help but avoid their gaze.

This wasn't a costume. The shield he held and the symbol he bore represented everything that America - the world - needed. Not just anyone could be a hero, after all. Men like Steve and Sam weren't a dime a dozen.

Dressed like this, he only now looked ready to fight. In retrospect, he at least could have put some Kevlar under his penguin costume and sprayed the fabric with some anti-flammable chemical agents. Most Halloween costumes, non-flying fowl included, weren't known for their durability in battle.

It wasn't just that, though. Wearing this costume felt like stepping into Steve's shoes. Ever since he'd gone feral, the campus had been different. Wearing his costume felt almost like putting himself between Steve's skin.

Sam's cheeks felt as hot as the flames burning on the edges of campus. Not that he'd ever thought of anything like that...

Sam sighed. Complaining wasn't going to get Janet to fix his costume any faster, and it wasn't as if he had much time to wait. Like a ghost, the upcoming deadline for his paper haunted the dark corridors of his mind.

Well, that and the threat that all hell could literally break loose.

Yeah, maybe Sam had some priority issues. Still, Professor Pym hadn't exactly tried to lower his class's homework load when lava started bursting from the ground.

"Is something wrong?" After a few moments, the voice repeated its earlier words, causing Sam to clutch his shield tighter.

"Huh?" He turned, locking eyes with the school's newest student. "Oh, Satana."

"Falcon," she replied, knitting her eyebrows together.

"Sorry, I thought you were talking with someone else." He loosened his grip on his shield and looked to his feet. "If you were looking to give me the pre-Halloween jitters then congrats."

"Look, all I want to know is if you're okay. I don't mean to be privy, but..." Satana locked eyes with him again, her gaze magnetic.

For someone whom he had spent what felt like hours chattering on the phone with earlier that week, Sam knew of no way to break their sudden silence.

"I guess I just have that look, don't I?" Sam shrugged. "Thanks for asking, but it's hardly your problem."

"Oh, it's just your..." Satana absently waved her hand. "You mortals call it your aura, I believe. Well, it's just so sad. I was hoping that I could help you." Something flashed through her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"As a supernatural student, I have the power to change things."

Sam had to force himself to not roll his eyes. "Oh, I get it. The all powerful demon lady wants me to sell my soul so that all my homework can be magically finished."

Truth be told, that didn't sound half bad. Maybe a bit of a steep price when Spider Man usually only requested twenty dollars and half of a pepperoni pizza to do Sam's homework, but not the worst bargain that Sam had ever been offered either.

Not that Satana needed to know that of course. Half of their earlier phone conversations had consisted her describing what she expected his soul to taste like - creamy and especially satiating when consumed with ketchup.

"I know your game."

She chuckled. "Oh, I'm not that type of demon." She licked her lips. "Still, if you need me to, I can try to work out something. You wouldn't even have to pay me on the spot."

"Well don't get any ideas," Sam replied. "If it's soul you're looking for, then the best I can do is recommend you some Spotify playlists."

He turned around before she could reply and headed towards the dorm. He still had an hour before he was set to meet up with Misty - just enough time to try and crack out a few paragraphs.

If he bombed his essay, worth a whole forty percent of this semester's grade, then he might as well ask Mephisto if he had a spot for him in hell.

Chapter Text

"So what are you going to be for Halloween this year?" Sam popped a ketchup covered fry into his mouth. "I'm no psychic, but would it be wrong to assume to assume a black cat?"

T'Challa tilted his head to the side and wrinkled his nose. "I still have yet to understand this American concept."

"Dude, we've been getting pumped and fighting demons the entire month. How do you not get it?"

"If I wore a bird suit, would you not be confused?"

"Touché, I suppose." Sam picked up his cheeseburger and took out a quarter of the sandwich in one bite. All that he'll hunting had a way of making him hungry.

"I do have some of an idea of this holiday." T'Challa absently stabbed at his salad but never ate any of it. "You Americans dress up in strange costumes, consume even more sugary substances than usual, and break the lines that divide this world and the next."

"I'm not so sure about that last one, but I think you've got the rest of it down." Sam wiped some ketchup from the side of his lip. "The real point of Halloween is to have fun. Lots of holidays here are serious, have religious connotations, or both. Sometimes it's nice to just have something where you can dress up and eat candy."

T'Challa nodded. "I suppose since I am a guest of your country and this institution that I should partake in your practices."

"That'd be great!" He paused, tapping his chin. "I was joking about that cat thing, you know. While I'm sure you could pull it off, there's better costumes out there. You should see the costume Bucky is wearing this year! Steve and I dared him to get this costume from the women's aisle. How he manages to keep it on is a holiday miracle."

"Is there anything specific I should wear?"

Sam shook his head. "Oh no, not really. I for one have always loved the variety this holiday can produce." As a kid, he'd been everything - a firefighter, an elephant, a vampire (a sparkly one at that), and even a superhero. Perhaps his eight year old self's costume choice was what had gotten into this mess in the first place.

"Indecisiveness is hardly a good quality for a man in my position."

"If his highness wants, he can be a Disney Princess."

T'Challa raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"What? You could totally pull that off." Sam leaned back further against his chair. "Or maybe you could wear one of those political masks since the election is heating up. Wait, never mind, that could actually cause an international crisis. Do me a solid and forget I ever said that."

A sexy costume? The idea of asking T'Challa that made his mouth and throat go dry. An animal costume? Hey, maybe T'Challa could play up the irony and dress up as a dog.

"Or what about-" Sam stopped mid-sentence. Scratch that. "Or what do you think of-" His mind was suddenly as blank as an unused sheet of paper.

"I redact my earlier statement," T'Challa spoke, placing his hands firmly together. He sat up tall, the reflection of the lights above him making his head seem to glow. (Could he go as an angel, maybe? Or was that a bit too religious?) "I truly feel as though I have no grasp on this holiday and its customs."

"You know," Sam replied, "I think I get where you're coming from."

Chapter Text

"Life sucks," Sam said. He looked up from the book he had been reading, or at least had been trying to, with glazed eyes.

"Make that sound a little more philosophical and you're sure to ace the next philosophy essay," Janet replied, looking up from her phone.

"I'm serious!" Beneath the table, Sam balled his fists. "Things are going haywire! Some demon is trying to send us all to hell, I have three tests tomorrow that I've barely had the time to study for, and the full moon is set to appear in an hour and a half!"

It was as if the whole universe was trying to screw him over - as if Sam didn't know how to make a perfectly good mess of his life all by himself.

Janet tapped her chin. "I have to admit, it's hard to argue with that." She shrugged. "I still don't get why the moon has you so worried."

"Why should it not?" Sam looked to the clock on the library's wall. Was it just him or were the hands moving faster than usual? "I'm not the superstitious type, but it's hard to not consider a full moon on Halloween to be a bad thing."

As if literal hellfire wasn't ominous enough.

Janet raised an eyebrow. "Is that really what's worrying you?"

"Why would it not? Come on, even you have to be a little freaked out."

Janet narrowed her gaze at him. "You know what I mean."

Sam sighed. "Okay, this might have something to do with Steve. There, I said it."

Janet had to hold a hand to her lips to keep herself from saying anything, but a small squeal escaped her throat.

"Look, this isn't the time to start planning your... Whatever they are."

It wasn't that Janet didn't understand him, not with the way she looked at Natasha. Still, he didn't need anyone trying to set him up on dates, especially not when the devil was at his door.

Sam tightened his fists, fingernails pushing against the skin of the palm of his hands. He had always heard about fire and brimstone and how his feelings (feelings wickeder than half the super villains he fought thoughts more evil than any world domination plan) could lead him to a very bad place. Until then, though, Sam had ignored them. Now, though, he had to swallow the bike riding in his throat.

Maybe what he had done, what he and Janet felt, perhaps could have caused Mephisto to-

No, Sam thought. He pushed the thought from his mind and locked eyes with Janet.

"I know my roommate caused it, but he meant it as a prank." They didn't call Loki a trickster for nothing, after all. "But he was frantically searching spell books when I woke up, and from the looks of it he'd been doing that all night. Of course he only now has to mention that a full moon could cause his spell to become permanent."

Sam was going to have to spill coffee all over his roommate's clothes for that, at least once all things were said and done. Now, though, he could only rack his brain for an idea and watch the clock, hoping with each passing second that he came closer to watching a miracle occur.

"I'm sure there's a way to reverse it, Sam. I mean, do you really think Steve would have himself stay a wolf forever?"

"Do you think he can control it?"

"Not really, but maybe he can influence it. I mean, Hulk isn't actually a big green monster all the time either."

Sam rubbed his forehead. "Do you have anything to back up that cheery hypothesis?"

Janet chuckled. "What, are you not into hairy guys?"

He gritted his teeth. "Wasp, this is serious. Steve could turn into a wolf forever tonight and Loki still hasn't found a way to fix it. If he doesn't by nightfall..."

"I'll take that as a no." Janet smirked. "Look, I don't get what you're so worried about. If I were you, I'd be, excuse the pun, over the moon." She giggled. "Seriously, do you know how many werewolf romance novels I've read? You're the luckiest guy alive to get to live one!"

Sam's cheeks grew hotter than the flames licking at the campus's gates. "Janet, this isn't some cheesy book! If Steve turns into an actual wolf..."

"Then what?" She suddenly stood up and pushed in her chair. "Your motivation speech has rambled on long enough - right now we should already be out of here." She motioned upwards. "Come on, do you want to sit around complaining or fix things yourself?"

Sam stood up so fast that his chair nearly fell over. Janet wasn't smiling anymore, but she wasn't frowning either. The only other time she looked quite like this was when she was on her way to a fight or was trying to get Sam to model some stuff for her.

"It's Loki who made this mess, after all." Janet put her hands on her hips. "That doesn't mean we can't fix this ourselves."

Sam grinned. "So where should we check first?"

Wasp gestured to the wall of books behind her. "I don't know why Loki hasn't ripped this place apart yet. Have you seen the size of their magic section?"

Before he could reply, she turned and ran towards a bookshelf. Sam followed behind her like a bird following the leader of its flock.

Despite the library only having one wall, he avoided looking outside. Even without gazing upwards, he could sense the sun dipping dangerously lower on the horizon.

"You know," Janet said as she grabbed a handful of books, most bound by thick leather and full of yellowing pages, from the shelf, "after this I think you should at least ask him to meet you up for coffee."

"This isn't the time, Jan!"

"Just saying," she said, shooting him a sheepish grin. "I mean, how could that be scarier than the devil?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Just as Sam avoided looking to the sky, he also kept his eyes away from the ground, as if at any moment he might suddenly see whatever lay below it.