When I found myself face to face with batman, I thought I was still half asleep. I thought that Grayson's DC superhero marathon had woven itself into my dreams. But as the hands shaking me began to feel too real, Bruce's signature scowl replaced with bright eyes, and an all too familiar smile flashed my way, I fully woke. Eyes suddenly alert, I took in his elaborate costume, from the mask to the cape to the leather boots, and I hid my face in the pillow.

     "Oh no." I laughed.

     "It's Halloween!" Grayson announced animatedly, turning me to face him before running around my room, cape extend and arms flapping like a bird. "I've already got the living room set up. The first movie is ready to play, pumpkins ready to carve and crafts ready to start."

     Nodding weakly to his words, I rubbed my eyes. "Breakfast?"

     "I made monster themed pancakes." Batman's ear lifted as he grinned. "Would you like to start with Dracula or Frankenstein?"

     Head turning from the clock reading 7 o'clock to Grayson's waiting smile, I blinked sluggishly. "Dracula."

     "Great choice," he commended, laying a heap of fabric on my chest. "I'll get that ready, while you put this on."

     Sitting up, I scowled at the black latex suit, holding it away from me with two fingers. "What. Is this?"

     "Your first costume," he said. "We were three. Our first Halloween together. I was Batman, you were Catwoman."

     "Catwoman?" I spoke distastefully, nose crinkled.

     "I have a picture to prove it," he offered. "You only have to wear it for an hour, then we switch."

     "Switch?"

     "We have eleven costumes to recreate. I figured it would be easier to get through some of them before we go trick or treating."

     "Trick or treating?" I demanded. "We're seventeen years old!"

     "But today, we are children at heart." He placed his hand on the wrong side of his chest for emphasis. "I'll be damned, if you're deprived the pleasure of the memory of trick or treating."

     He wasn't damned. Grayson Ryder was always true to his words.

     He approached Halloween with great significance. Feeling exposed in my Catwoman outfit, on my descent of the stairs, I ran face first into a fake spider web. He had covered the entire kitchen and living room with decorations; fake spiders, dolls and bones found everywhere.

     Finishing my breakfast next to the singing witch, Hocus Pocus playing in the background, already Grayson was applying paint to my face for the upcoming costume switch. I was forced into a vampire, princess, Rockstar, ghost, and female Frankenstein costume that morning alone. Finishing the outdoor decorations, baking Halloween desserts, carving pumpkins and watching movies, we switched costumes on a very fixed schedule, dropping everything to change the moment Grayson's watch rang. It was ridiculous. He overdid every possible tradition, but I found myself enjoying every moment.

     Unfortunately, too soon I found myself being pushed out of the front door, pillowcase in hand, wearing a ridiculous Luigi costume. Sun starting to set, first trick or treaters venturing out, Grayson was adamant on beginning our embarrassing evening.

     Car horn blaring the moment we stepped outside, I hid my face in my green hat. Of course, he had invited others to witness my humiliation. Recognizing the spotless grey Grand caravan, I sent a shy wave to Blake and Luke. Pushing me in the backseat, behind Luke's younger brothers, Grayson tossed our large costume bag in the trunk.

     "Thanks for the ride." He grinned excitedly.

     "Wouldn't have wanted to miss these epic costumes." Luke laughed.

     Through the mirror, I narrowed my eyes at him.

     "Seriously," Blake agreed, nodding enthusiastically. "I love the moustache, Alexa."

     John and Andy, Luke's younger brothers, giggled, equally admiring the large chunk of hair above my lip.

     "I don't think this needs clarifying," I started. "But let it be known that the stash was Mario's idea."

     In the process of joining me in the back, Grayson wiggled his fake brows, earning another laugh from the two youngest Hum's.

     "It's me," he said, in a most botched attempt of an impression. "Mario!"

     Lowering my hat in second-hand embarrassment, I scooted away from him. Thank the lucky stars, that was the last of his impressions. Luke dropping us off on Wellington Street, we agreed to meet on South Park. And so, Luigi and Mario walked their first block of the night.

     Many years older than that of the average trick or treater, several people were reluctant to hand us candy. Surprisingly, Grayson was mature about it.

     "I completely understand," he told the first reluctant couple. "We're just trying to knock trick or treating off the memory thing."

     The whole city had heard of my story. Of course, they immediately associated the memory thing with the tragic life of Alexa Adams. And of course, Grayson would take the guilt route. Somehow, we received twice their initial candy portions.

     "You're a piece of work," I told Grayson.

     Mouthful of chocolate, he mumbled incoherently. On our way towards South Park, he spotted something in the distance. With the large hat, I couldn't make out what it was.

     "Our ride!" he exclaimed. Yanking the stash off my face, he seized my hand and made a beeline for the approaching van.

     Rubbing my aching upper lip, I followed him clumsily.

     "We have less than four minutes to complete the next costume change!" He told Blake urgently.

     Nodding solemnly, Blake jumped into the backseat. Swinging the door open, she pulled me inside. Why it mattered if our costume change was executed a few moments late? I have no clue, and I didn't get a chance to question it. Helped out of the Luigi suit, I was put in a purple dress, red wig shoved on my head, and a green scarf tied round my neck.

     While Blake shot me an approving look, I cringed at my reflection in the window.

     "Always thought you'd rock the red hair," Grayson called from the back, huffing as he struggled with his costume. From Luke's soft chuckles, I hesitated to turn around.

     "Please tell me you're not Fred... Oh, no!" Words erupting in laughter, I covered my mouth.

     "Do I look like the Fred type?" he demanded, hands on his hips. Scooby-Doo was not impressed.

     "My mistake," I said with feigned sincerity. "I should have known better than to think you wouldn't choose the most ridiculous of the five characters."

     "Most ridiculous?" he asked incredulously.

     "You're a talking dog."

     "That makes me the most interesting."

     The Hum brothers nodded vigorously. Grayson's blue eyes shining as he watched the short police officer and Hulk, I hid my face in my hands in anticipation.

     "Don't do it," I begged.

     There was no use. This is impression was much worse. So much worse, but still, I couldn't refrain from laughing as hard as the young boys.

     As excited as the children running around us, eagerly making way for the next home, Grayson choked on the leash for the third time. I wasn't walking nearly as fast as he.

     "You know, we could just put this away," I suggested, highly embarrassed to be walking a human dog.

     "Absolutely not."

     "Is this some kind of kink I should know about?"

     Brow cocked ridiculously; he turned my way. "Do you want it to be?"

     Absurd expression turned into a grin; I puckered my lips exasperatedly.

     "Just keep walking."

     "Yes, ma'am."

     Daphne and Scooby transformed into peanut butter and jelly toasts, there were no embarrassing impressions this time. And that's well enough, for the cheesy partner costumes were humiliating enough.

     "This one was your idea, by the way," Grayson informed me, much to my horror.

     I eyed him skeptically. I could not have been this cheesy.

     "And what was your proposed alternative costume?"

     "Ying and Yang."

     Wobbling in my large costume, I pondered the options. "I stand by my choice," I finally decided.

     Attacked with orange face paint the moment I slipped out of the toasted piece of bread; Grayson had to pry me away from the van. Considering the large circumference of my costume, he struggled.

     "Don't be ridiculous, Alex."

     "My parents hated me," I finally concluded aloud, ignoring Blake and Luke's wheezing laughter in the background.

     "Don't blame this on them," Grayson said. "Emma suggested that you be the Jessie to my Woody, but 12-year-old Alexa was adamant on the pumpkin. This is all you."

     12-year-old me willingly putting this on? "There's no way."

     "Way." Grayson nodded heartily. "You were embarrassed about it, though. So, I reckon you lost some kind of bet. But you never told me about it."

     I narrowed my eyes at him. If there was any secret worth wearing this to hide, he had to be involved somehow. Intentionally or not, I reckoned he was to blame for the horrific attire.

     Of course, he chose this costume change to visit the local haunted house.

     "Did you do this by purpose?" I asked, breaths coming in fast as I attempted to squeeze my costume through, the dark, narrow passages.

     "Did I take into account your mild claustrophobia?"

     I couldn't see him, but I knew he was smiling boyishly, blinking with feigned innocence.

     "Arse," I mumbled.

     "Yeah, yeah. I know," he said, pushing me forward. I could practically hear the eye roll. "Just walk faster."

     "If you wanted to move faster, you should have gone ahead of the large pumpkin."

     "Go first in a haunted house?" he snorted incredulously. "No chance."

     With Grayson's pushing, we made it out of the tunnel more quickly. Tumbling into a spacious room, I heaved a breath of relief. Lights flickering, faces appearing in dark corners, and faraway moaning, my relief was short lived.

     "I don't like this," I complained.

     "Scared?" Grayson taunted, grinning madly as he obscured himself in the darkness.

     Before I could complain of his rude behavior, he tangled himself in a fake spider web. Plastic spiders spilling over his head, a shriek escaped him. Despite the hands clawing at my legs, I erupted in laughter. Blue eyes narrowing, my laughter only intensified. Sides aching, I steadied myself on a coffin.

     "You're scared of spiders," I noted amusedly.

     "You're going to regret laughing at me." Walking backwards until he reached the corner of the room, he disappeared in the darkness.

     Only when I recovered from my laughter, did his lingering absence send a shiver down my spine. I had never liked haunted houses. Being alone in one, did nothing to diminish my dislike. Strange demonic creature bursting out of the coffin, I stumbled backwards, knocking props with my costume.

     "Grayson—"

     "You shouldn't have mocked me," he taunted. Voice echoing throughout the room, I couldn't determine in which direction it had come. "I know all of your fears."

     Dreadful squeaks coming from below my feet, sound of nails clattering on the floor steadily growing, I tensed.

     "Grayson, you wouldn't—"

     Panicked gaze strained on the floor, I didn't notice him sneak up.

     "Boo," he whispered in my ear.

     Yelping, I jumped into him, knocking the cowboy hat off his head with my stem.

     "You jerk!" I tried to slap him with my short pumpkin arms.

     Grayson laughed. "But I'm better than a rat, aren't I?"

     Snorting in spite of myself, I nodded.

     "Then I wouldn't look behind you."

     You couldn't tell someone not to look somewhere and expect them not to be tempted. Flinching in anticipation, I turned around. Coming face to face with the earlier creature, I jumped into Grayson. Up close, the costume wasn't frightening. Red mask made a of cheap plastic; the horns hung crookedly. The problem wasn't the person, but rather what they were holding. Squirming rat between their hands, I shrieked. Backing away as much as my pumpkin let me, I watched the vermin with horror.

     "Too far, Grayson," I complained.

     Sniggering, he took the rat from the creature, allowing them to remove their mask.

     I took another step away from Grayson. "Don't even think about it," I warned.

     Though he grinned mischievously, he took no step forward.

     "Sorry, Alexa," the creature said, removing her mask. "I know you have a bad history with Mr. Whiskers."

     "Shawna!" I cried. Studying the rat from afar, sure enough, I recognized the heart shaped grey patch on the top of its head. Since meeting it alone in Shawna's bathroom, that rat had starred in many of my nightmares. "You work here?"

     "Grayson needed an inside person." She shrugged. "And I could use the extra cash."

     "Well, thank you for participating in my scaring," I said. "But I've had enough of this place." I made way for the exit.

     "I think we should stay a little longer," Grayson suggested, nuzzling the rat. I grimaced. "Don't you want to spend more time with Mr. Whiskers? He's so cute."

     "The Jordan's have many lovely pets," I said. "I'm sure, Shawna's brother Deion would love to introduce you to his pet tarantula. We could—"

     Eagerly dropping Mr. Whiskers in Shawna's hands, Grayson wrapped his arm around mine. "Come on, pumpkin," he said. "Let's get out of this joint."

     With two pillowcases full of candy, as Mickey and Minnie we returned home. Spilling our goods across the living room floor, we separated chocolates and sweets, trading our least favourites. I took all his suckers and gave him my Tootsie Rolls.

     Teeth and stomach aching from excessive sugar consummation, we hobbled off the floor, towards the couch. Grayson insisted on watching horror movies until the morning.

     "I hate scary movies," I informed him.

     "I know."

     I narrowed my eyes at his knowing grin.

     "I'm not opposed to cuddling if needs be," he added with a sly smirk. "I'll keep you safe."

     "Shut up," I laughed.

     Ignoring the strange twitch in my chest, I settled next to him on the couch; sitting closer than I would have three weeks ago, but still a safe few feet away.