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Whether it’s pumpkin carving, cheap candy that’s probably from last year, spider decor hanging from the walls, and costumes of favorited characters or trying to impress the Ghostface from across the room, Halloween is an annual celebration that deserves to be celebrated with a party that will leave you with a killer hangover two days later. That’s Johnny Cage’s definition of a perfect party to have on such a terrifying day. But it’s a definite challenge introducing such a day to people who never heard of such a custom or never knew it existed after all and who knew convincing someone to wear a simple pair of supernatural ears would be a pain in the ass? But Johnny with his ever so charismatic and superb persuasion is just that good.
He sends out invitations a week before to track down everyone’s presence, how many spare costumes he’ll need to have at the front door, and of course, one hell of a fruit punch bowl filled with only the best alcohol he can get his hands on.
To say he’s excited would be a severe understatement, and he can only hope he’ll be the best host around and really give people the fright of their lives. Positively, of course.
As far as the list goes, most of the guests are earthrealmers with a few outworlder exceptions like Ashrah and Syzoth, whom Johnny had to explain what exactly Halloween was, which led to Syzoth asking if Predator was a horror film and then answering said question with a shrug. Honestly, a heated topic to debate about oddly enough.
But alas, Johnny Cage finds himself standing in front of his full-length mirror, inspecting his Indiana Jones outfit that resembles perfectly the costume used in Indiana Jones. Totally original and looking exactly like the actor. What a strange coincidence.
Although he appears to notice a small tear on the sleeve that he believes occurred during filming. It’s a bit embarrassing but doesn’t ruin the authenticity of his genius thinking for a costume. He glances over to the clock on the wall and reads the time pushing a bit past 8:30 pm, where the party really begins at 9 sharp.
The decorations are all up and the one 7ft animatronic in the corner of the room seems functional, the chandelier is dimmed and is reflecting a relaxing orange hue, the fog machine, which did not cost 1000 dollars, is fogging, and the fruit punch is tasting like the best fruit punch he’s ever had. It’s safe to say he’s all decked out and ready.
When his doorbell rings, Johnny almost drops his hat, mentally betting on who it could be. He's right on the money when he answers the door and would be a millionaire if he wasn't already.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t special- “
“We get it Cage.” Kenshi cuts him off before he finishes, which Johnny fully expected. He peers behind Kenshi and notices Kuai Liang and Smoke behind him, rugged in fabric and bejeweled.
“A knockoff of Jack Sparrow and one of his crewmates. Nicely done. The scar from Bi-Han really gives you a pirate look y’know.”
A nudge to Johnny’s side is what shuts him up this time, seeing a slightly pained look in Kuai Liang’s eyes but also receiving a nod before entering inside alongside Smoke. Kenshi enters as well, but not before Johnny reaches out a hand to lay on his chest to stop him.
“Not so fast there, buddy. Where’s your costume?” Johnny raises an eyebrow at him before taking a glance at his outfit, which is painfully lacking any sort of Halloween spirit. Kenshi glances towards him before thinning his lips to speak.
“I’m a swordsman.” A scoff is heard.
“You’re a swordsman every day. Doesn’t count.”
“I don’t “dress up” for Halloween. I never needed to.” He pushes Johnny’s hand away from his chest, only for it to return after his futile attempt. He catches the actor shaking his head, thanks to Sento, and instead, Johnny wraps an arm around Kenshi’s shoulder.
“Well, you my friend, were invited to the great Johnny Cage’s costume party. And luckily for you, I have the perfect costume in mind for a man like you.” He smiles. Of course, he does, Kenshi thinks. That entire sentence made his stomach turn, almost afraid for what Johnny could have in mind. Before he knows it, he’s getting shoved towards a set of stairs with Johnny hot on his heels, who throws a quick door duty job onto Smoke before he’s up the last stair, directing Kenshi towards a room on the left.
From the faint colorless outline of a bed in the middle of the room and a large walk-in closet, Kenshi could take a pretty good guess where he is right now. The owner of said walk-in closet begins raiding it, leaving Kenshi to stand awkwardly near the end of the bed, waiting for Johnny to toss whatever at him to wear and deem it as a costume. Although, he is a bit taken aback when he’s thrown a pair of black dress pants and a denim blue button-up.
“Are these… your clothes?”
Johnny agrees with a hum.
“Freshly returned from the cleaners.” Kenshi sighs as he continues holding Johnny’s clothes.
“Johnny, I’m not being you for Halloween, that’s just- “
“Brilliant? I know. Don’t need to thank me.” He adjusts his hat and smiles brightly. “Just shout if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” And just like that, Johnny closes the door and leaves.
He’s left absolutely dumbfounded and with limited choices, leaning towards leaving the room with the same clothes he came in with.
But with a curious mind comes incredibly dumb decisions.
At first, Kenshi is hesitant, unsure if the clothes would even fit properly considering he’s not as slim as Johnny, more muscle-toned, and wide around the shoulders. So, he tries putting it on, almost to humor himself to see if he’ll fit, to which he does as he threads the last button through the opening. Much tighter than he’d like his shirts to be, but it does wonders in showing his biceps and forearms. The pants, on the other hand, are a little snug around his waist but once again, no problems in actually fitting.
He feels stupid. And even looks stupid because he knows who he’s supposed to be, who also happens to be, well stupid.
He’s about to start unbuttoning the shirt before the door opens, getting a low whistle as a response.
“Damn, I think that’s the sexiest costume I’ve ever seen.”
He doesn’t need to see to know Johnny is biting his bottom lip by feeding his ego. Kenshi grabs Sento with a small smirk on his lips.
“How egotistical can you be?”
“What can I say? All Johnny Cage costumes are damn fine if I say so myself.” Johnny moves out of the way of the door, “Ready handsome?”
Kenshi doesn’t answer, already ahead of Johnny by a couple of steps down the stairs. Once he glances up to take in the room, everybody invited is there, mingling away with one another. Johnny, from behind him raises his arms to the side when he sees a costume-less Liu Kang, talking to his doorman Smoke. He mumbles out a lighthearted curse before making his way over, Kenshi unintentionally following him.
“Smoke! My man, you let Liu Kang in without a costume?” Smoke already seems apologetic.
“Sorry I didn’t know what to do, or to tell him he had to put one on.” Johnny mumbles a quick ‘no worries’ before he sends Smoke off to talk to others, leaving Liu Kang with Johnny.
“Johnny Cage.” Liu Kang nods slightly before glancing around the room.
“I thought you weren’t making it tonight, Fire God.”
“Plans have changed. And I see that you have Kenshi here dressed as you by the looks of it.”
Now Kenshi felt slightly embarrassed from that one because reasonably, there wouldn’t be a single chance he would willingly put Johnny’s clothes on in front of others, especially not in front of Liu Kang. But it’s Halloween, so it’s perfectly excused why he’s wearing Johnny’s clothes. Totally.
“Doesn’t he look great? Talk about being the real deal.” He eyes Kenshi up and down before looking back to Liu Kang. After a sensible conversation, Johnny finds himself unable to tell Liu Kang to find a costume and logically tells himself that his glowing eyes could be something already. By the punch table are Ashrah and Syzoth, in surprisingly matching costumes as a witch and her familiar feline friend, where he can also see Ashrah be unsure about drinking the punch.
“Trust me, that will be the best punch you’ll ever have.” Johnny slides over to intrude into their conversation to do what he does best, convince.
“What is “punch” exactly?” Ashrah asks, curiously taking a whiff of the cup of punch she has, Syzoth doing the exact same.
“Fruit juice along with some very good quality vodka and some other things. Although I would try to be careful about uh, how many you have. Happened to me once in college at a frat party.” Johnny mentions casually, sucking his teeth in almost in reminiscence. Somehow that convinces Ashrah to take a sip as Syzoth dips his tongue in his own cup, both lighting up at the taste of it. Mission accomplished.
Johnny takes a serving of his own too before someone bumps into him, almost making him spill his drink on himself and his very expensive costume. He turns around and almost cuts his cheek against a bladed hat.
“Kung Lao, you should be careful, you almost bumped into-” Raiden pauses as he sees Johnny, grabbing a hold of Kung Lao.
“He almost bumped into me; I was nowhere near him!” Kung Lao sputters as he readjusts his hat, along with his fangs.
“Count Dracula and Count Orlok, feasting on the fruit punch I see?” He looks mostly to Kung Lao but towards Raiden for a response.
“Count Orlok? I am not sure who that is, but I can assume it’s a vampire like us.”
“Oh, he’s a vampire alright and a real looker that’s for sure.”
From a distance now, Kenshi watches as Johnny mingles with others, while he generally stays off to the side or occasionally talks to someone about something. Nothing too serious.
He’s impressed by Johnny's dedication towards the party, seeing it in all of its grandeur with what limited vision he has, and how most, if not everyone, is having a good time.
Indulging himself with a cup in hand, Kenshi would never admit to Johnny on his genuine appreciation about the party, but perhaps after some insistence of praise from a certain man, he would eventually give in and provide a little compliment on his efforts to see Johnny radiate, which seems to make himself brighten too. For the time being, all he can do is throw some glances in the direction of the movie star, only to look away without being noticed and continue conversing within the group he's found himself in.
After a while, Johnny began blasting music from his portable speaker, which nobody really noticed but subtly appreciated for contributing to the party’s ambiance.
As the moon rises to its full height, people begin waving their goodbyes or at least try to before being carried off back home for having a bit too much jungle punch, like a certain Zaterran who discovered his species is very susceptible to the effects of alcohol after a few drinks. Until there’s nobody around, Johnny deems his party as a successful one, now facing the aftermath cleanup party solely himself. Or at least he thought so.
The top of the stairs creaks as heavy footsteps slowly make their way down, almost similar to setting up a scene of some slasher movie film with how quiet the entire mansion is with just steps making a sound. Now if Johnny was rational, he would’ve bolted for his front door but when a brilliant mind is considered unusual, he likes to investigate.
He leaves his kitchen to glance at his stairs, seeing nobody there hanging onto the railing, or staring back at him. A little freaky if you asked him.
Brushing it off and turning back into his kitchen, he almost slams right into himself, quite literally with a yelp.
“Kenshi! What the fuck man?” He holds onto his outfit and shuts his eyes for a moment, “God, warn a man next time.” Kenshi smirks. What a bastard.
“Don’t you know you should never investigate? That’s the number one horror rule.” He moves around the island countertop, grabbing a few red solo cups that were used.
“Obviously I know that, but c’mon, don’t say you wouldn’t go looking either.” Johnny reasons. Kenshi looks at him, blindfolded and all. “Right.”
“I figured I would help you clean up.” The cupboard underneath the sink opens as Kenshi grabs the trash can from out and underneath, placing the cups in.
“You don’t have to do that, Ken.”
“I want to.”
Johnny doesn’t have a rebuttal, so he lets it be, moving out to the living room to figure out what to do with the leftover punch.
Before either of them knows it, the mansion is practically spotless with one couch pillow on the floor, but that doesn’t matter. Both are now standing almost proudly with what they’ve accomplished together in the kitchen before Johnny opens his mouth.
“I think we cleaned better than my cleaners do.” He earns a scoff to his right and an imaginary eye roll.
“It’s not that hard to clean up after yourself.” Saying that flusters Johnny a bit.
“I know it’s just- well, I get pretty busy still, and I don’t always have time to get down and scrub the living room or kitchen, or-”
“It’s fine, Cage. It won’t make me think of you any less.” Kenshi interrupts before Johnny gets too ahead of himself. After all, his image to others is everything. He sees an eyebrow raise and a wicked smile form on Johnny’s face, giving him time to realize what exactly he set himself up for.
“Do I occupy your mind rent free Takahashi? I’m honored. Really.” He clasps his hands together and fake swoons over Kenshi’s words, which in turn, makes him groan out loud.
“I only think of you when I do something idiotic, which is almost never.”
“Even once is still a lot. But don’t worry, you’re in my head sometimes too.” Johnny reaches for the top cupboard and holds two wine glasses in between his fingers, “Wine, Takahashi?”
Kenshi just nods and settles himself on a stool, watching Johnny pop a cork and pour vermillion wine as he sides over Kenshi’s glass across the island. He sees Johnny’s Adam's apple bob as he takes a swig of his own drink, making Kenshi realize maybe he shouldn’t be looking so intently.
Raising the glass to his lips, he’s hit with flavors of sweet vanilla and tobacco, covered in blackberry oak. Johnny looks at him, one palm resting flat against the counter as he puts the majority of his weight on one foot.
“How’s the wine?”
“It’s... good,” Kenshi says, placing his glass back on the counter and clearing his throat.
“It’s from Bordeaux. Went there once for shooting a movie scene.” He takes another drink before putting his glass down and raising his hand towards Kenshi, stopping himself before he makes contact. “You uh, have some wine at the corner.” He licks his lips, almost anxiously, “Can... I?”
Kenshi finds himself leaning closer to Johnny’s hand, humming out a small ‘go ahead’.
Carefully, Johnny’s thumb swipes against the corner of Kenshi’s mouth, lingering a bit longer than necessary before leaning back and immediately grabbing for his glass.
“Thank you.” Johnny doesn’t say anything, just nodding before finishing his glass and placing it in the sink.
Now silence holds itself between them, where Johnny’s usual demeanor would’ve struck up something to talk about. But not this time. This time, the ambiance speaks for them, sitting on the fence between delicacy and an ignited sensation that stains both of their faces in faint cherry. It’s a thin line that neither one of them wants to cross just yet, in fear, yet yearning by beating hearts.
Eventually, Johnny breaks the silence first.
“I still think your costume was the best.” There he is. Kenshi chuckles, relieved.
“Because I’m dressed as you?”
“Yes and no. But it honestly suits you.” The last part is mumbled, but still heard, clear as day. Kenshi finds Johnny’s gaze on his inked hands, which flicker over to his arms before resting back at him with a soft smile.
“Well, maybe I’ll be you again next year.” He swirls his wine, “Might need a bigger shirt to wear though.” Johnny laughs with a huff.
“I’ll keep that in mind. It’s no joke that you have some serious arm muscle.”
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
Once again, time moves, and both men find themselves immersed in each other's stories, past and present that wraps a comfortable blanket around the entire room, sparking some debate about certain topics of modern movie culture, and snickering at ridiculous movie references and imitations. It’s not until Johnny glances at the living room clock does he realizes how late it is already.
“Holy shit Ken, are you sure you’re alright going back to your hotel this late? You can always crash in the guest room if you’d like.” As much as that sounds promising to Kenshi, it also stirs for danger.
“I should be alright. I don’t want to bother you more than I already have.” Johnny clicks at that and makes a noise.
“You could never bother me. Plus, I know those hotel mattresses are probably downright horrendous.”
“It’s okay Cage. Really.” He stands and makes his way to the front door, without realizing Johnny is right behind him.
“Are you sure?” He asks again, this time hinting with a surprised bit of dismay. It stops Kenshi in his tracks with his back facing Johnny as he leans fully against the opened front door in consideration. He’s been ignoring something all night and he can only hope he’s not wrong. He knows Johnny feels it too. But a part of him doubts that. He doesn’t want to ruin anything that they’ve worked so hard to build up. He doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath in, horrified with the way he’s heavily considering to risk everything to satisfy his own wants.
A looming presence moves closer to him and Kenshi decides to turn around, torsos bumping into one another from how close they are in proximity, crowding each other in the narrow doorway. He reaches with marked hands to cradle Johnny’s face between them, feeling the bridge of Johnny’s nose against his. Johnny’s eyes widen only to soften, grabbing Kenshi’s wrists gently around his fingers. He gives him a bright smile and leans closer.
“Kenshi...” He whispers before he collides with Kenshi fully, connecting them with teeth clashing, hunger and passion devouring the both of them.
It was hard to say where it started and where it ended, but all Johnny knew was that he craved more, pushing himself closer if it was even possible. He feels Kenshi push back against him, forcing Johnny to backtrack his steps into the mansion once more and reaching to close the front door behind him, all while keeping their lips on one another, struggling to find moments to fill burning lungs with exchanged air.
The taste of vanilla still lingers on their lips from the wine, and Johnny thinks he’ll never taste anything sweeter ever again. But the lack of oxygen to his already muddled brain forces him to try and break away from his newest addiction.
“W-wait a minute,” The actor murmurs between breaths, opening his mouth when Kenshi bites gently at his lower lip. He listens, breaking away and resting his forehead against Johnny’s, heaving in and out quietly.
“I’m sorry,” Kenshi whispers, finding one of Johnny’s hands resting along his waist and placing his hand down on top of his. Johnny giggles and grabs Kenshi’s hand to intertwine them properly.
“It’s alright... just let me catch my breath here.” They stay like that for a while, becoming each other's stability and comfort, listening to their hearts pound loudly in their ears with warmth staining their faces. Nothing needs to be said when their actions spoke for them, and on such a supposed terrifying night, something bewitching happened instead, where Johnny wouldn’t ever trade it for the world.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night and I thought you never would’ve done it.” Johnny sighs, content in their current situation.
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Oh please, I’ve been eyeing you up all night. Especially with that shirt.” To emphasize his point, Johnny unbuttons the first button that almost flys off its threads from the strain. “I should dress you up in my things more often.” Kenshi scoffs at that, moving towards Johnny’s lips to capture them again.
“Not on your life.”