Bucky Barnes / Clint Barton
Yep, nope. Clint hadn't been interested even remotely into walking through those doors as soon as he'd heard they were opening up to places no one wanted to be. He wasn't a coward or anything, but he really didn't see any point in running around creeper woods while some kind of big ass animal was chasing him.
So instead he'd stayed at home, guilt and horror free, and prepared for this party. Because yeah. He had fucking baked. He was getting good at it, with the help of recipe books that people kept bringing him and an industrial grade kitchen in the back of COFFEE. It was kind of fun and mostly relaxing and he just got to spend hours back there doing whatever the fuck he wanted.
"Damn right I did," he said, grinning at Bucky and leaning in for that little kiss to the cheek. "What's the point of Halloween if you can't have weird cupcakes?" He asked, like that explained it all. Which it kind of did, frankly. "Where's your costume?"