Halloween and fall festivities go on for the entire month of October at the base where the Task Force considers home, but nothing compares to the huge party thrown every year on Halloween night. The brass looks the other way when the party rages on, and the punch is spiked three times over. Last year's party was the best one yet. Maybe too good.

You had been dating the leader of the Task Force for a while at that point. John. As the Captain, he was busy, but he always made time for you. He missed a lot of holidays. You weren't sure if he'd make it to the party this year even when he texted you mid-op: 'Don't buy a costume. Got you something special.'

But there it was, laid out on your bed after your shift and just your size. You put the costume on eagerly and added a few special touches. The way his eyes lit up when he saw you across the dance floor... You were dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. You found some lacey white stockings and a basket to carry. The little red dress he bought for you barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. John looked downright sinful as the Big Bad Wolf.

John couldn't wait to get his hands on you. He'd been on-mission for a few weeks, and seeing you in that dress made him lose all rationale. After dancing for only a few songs, he took your hand and dragged you to his office. The door locked behind you, and the rest is history.

A year later, you're putting your three-month-old baby in his first Halloween costume. John is replacing the porch light in case any trick-or-treaters come knocking. You've squeezed into your costume from last year, since you got the baby's costume to specifically match yours: a little fuzzy werewolf.

When John comes back inside, sneaking a piece of candy from the bowl next to the door, he stops in his tracks when he sees you and the baby. "Bloody hell... do I need to go dig out my costume?"

You already did that though, and it was laid out on the bed waiting for him. He goes and puts it on, popping open some of the buttons on his flannel before taking the baby and resting him against his chest. There's a familiar heat behind his gaze as he looks at you in your old costume, "Careful, love. Might end up with two under two."