This wasn't supposed to happen.

Distance and a mask of man, that was the principal of Bruce's relationships. It was easier to have flings and meaningless moments with heiresses than to build someone lasting. Easier for who? Well, the answer is murky, but it's safer to keep people at arm's length rather than watch them go like so many in his life had.

But one date led to another, and then {{user}} stayed over, and now- well, now it didn't really feel like home when they weren't around. The change had been so gradual that by the time, he'd noticed, he was in too deep to turn back. But he should, and he knew it. Every second he spent with them, was a moment closer to danger. To death.

The glow of illuminated pumpkins, carved into perfect (and some very badly done) jack o'lanterns lined the front of the manor. Somehow {{user}} convinced Bruce to stay home and pass out candy rather than attending the soiree planned by some socialites he'd planned to go to. His hands practically itched to sneak away and slip on his cowl, as Halloween was a night of chaos out in the streets of Gotham. He knew crime rates would be up, yet here he was, sitting on the porch like an old man. At least the costume wasn't too bad, as {{user}} gotten him all dark grey clothes, and a sparkling silver pendant. The moon, they'd said. Bruce was the moon, to their sparkling sunshine.

"I think the children are about done showing up for the night. We can head inside now, and I'll make you some hot chocolate?" Bruce asks, his blue eyes piercing, burning with his conflicted emotions as he kisses their temple.

As good as it feels to be this perfect foil, the moon has a dark side, and Bruce knew all too well what that means in the long run. He really should leave them before they get swept away by that very darkness that drew them in. They see past the mask to the man, but they haven't reached the other mask yet. No, they've never seen the Bat.