"I'm not wearing a costume."
He says it so simply, so full of conviction, that Lucy thinks he really believes it.
She hums her disagreement. "I think you will."
Tim frowns at her, though he's used to her confidence in assuming she'll win a debate with him. "I'm not. Just because we're a couple now and you think you have me wrapped around your finger-"
"First of all, I always had you wrapped around my finger."
"You absolutely did not," Tim declares with absolute certainty, because he knows there was a time – long ago now – that he had the upperhand.
"Regardless," she brushes him off (probably, because she knows he's correct) and Tim huffs his irritation, "I do think I can persuade you, and if you'd like I can be the one wrapping parts of me around you."
He wants to be annoyed with her but he can't help but laugh at her not-so-subtle attempt at innuendo. "You're ridiculous," he informs her instead.
"Come on!" she begs. "Just put on a Rams jersey or something. It's simple. That's all I'm asking. I'm not even asking for a couples' costume – which, yes, I would absolutely enjoy - but I'm not going to push my luck."
"You're already pushing your luck. I'll go to the party with you, but I draw the line at costumes."
Lucy rolls her eyes. "I don't know why you still bother putting on this act. I know you. I know you're not really such a curmudgeon and I know you'll eventually do it anyway. You're just trying to keep up some kind of pretense and I don't understand why because no one thinks it's cool to show up to a Halloween party without a costume."
"No costumes," he says again with certainty, gently moving her out of his way by her shoulders as he passes by her. She's losing the battle because it's getting late and they have to get to work, but she knows she'll get him later.
"Yeah. We'll see!" Lucy sing songs back to him.
That night, after a long day at work, she thinks she can wear him down. They ordered in Mexican food for dinner because it was late and neither one of them wanted to cook and they were starving and exhausted.
"How about this?" Lucy asks innocently enough as she holds her phone out to Tim while he clears the plates.
He takes it, already suspicious, and groans when he sees the image of a pirate costume, complete with the eyepatch, hat, and a hook. "No way."
Lucy grumbles. "Okay, just give me an idea of what direction to go in," she says. "Like, are you into some kind of decades outfit? A character? Something generic like doctor?"
"I'll go as a police officer. Off duty."
"Tiiim," Lucy whines, hoping the drawl of his name will convince him to give in. "I thought you'd be over this by now."
"I will be over it. On November 1st. You're not going to convince me."
Lucy chews on the inside of her cheek, her eyes shining and he can tell he's in trouble because she has some kind of plan. "Want to bet?"
He narrows his eyes at her, suspiciously. Yes, he knows this sounds like trouble. Still, he can't help but fall for it. "What are the stakes?"
She grins. They have always loved a good bit of competition – whether they're on the same team or opposite ones – and it's probably both why she became such a good cop and he was so good at training her. "You think you can resist me and my persuasion techniques," Lucy states with a raise of her eyebrows and a slight tilt of her head. "So, let's see how easily you can resist me. It's ten days until the party. You keep your hands off of me – nothing more than kissing - for ten days, you win. No costume. You can't make it that long, I win and I get to pick your costume."
Tim scoffs. "That's way too easy."
Lucy huffs her indignation. "Oh, no way. You'll never make it ten days. We haven't gone ten days without having sex since before we were having sex."
"But that's not because I can't," he counters, and she can see the determination set on his brow. "I have self-control."
Lucy snorts a laugh. "Mmhmm. Sure. Even when I was undercover for a week, we didn't even make it the entire week," she points out with a glint in her eye and a smirk on her face as she recalls their laundry room experience.
"Which was your idea by the way," Tim recalls, crossing his arms as the final bit of confidence sets in. "I'm in."
"Okaaay," she says with a knowing, teasing smile. "I'll start looking up costumes."
"Waste of time," Tim retorts. "I'm going to shower. Alone. Because I'm fine with that."
Lucy just laughs as he walks out of the room.
Day one is easy for Tim, because they both work late.
Lucy's appropriately annoyed, because she knows she only has ten days to break him – which she can totally do - and she can't afford to lose her opportunities to their late work schedules.
Although, she figures he won't break this soon anyway – he's got a good four or five days of resolve in him, especially when a competition is involved, and there's no way he'd break on the first day so it would've been a wash anyhow.
Still, she can't help but stir the pot a little.
She's on break when she pulls out her phone to text him, starting the conversation casually.
You still coming home late tonight?
The thought flashes through her mind that they really have to do some soul searching about this living situation, because here she is calling it home when they don't technically live together, but they basically do while still having their belongings – and dog – in two different places.
She's surprised to see him write back quickly, clearly not in the middle of the op at the moment.
Probably. We're heading back to the station now, but a lot of paperwork ahead of us, he says.
Come over when you're done, Lucy replies.
It'll be late, he warns her.
I don't care. I like having you in my bed.
It's the truth, but she's trying to rile him up a bit.
Sometimes, she still can't believe that if she were to scroll far enough back on this text chain she would see completely professional texts and now she's taunting him about being in her bed.
If she wasn't trying to seduce him and win a bet, she probably would've said something sweeter like I sleep better next to you, but this should work him up a little more. She adds a winking emoji just for emphasis.
You're not going to break me that easily, Chen, he shoots back and she laughs outloud to herself and then he sends the kissy emoji and she lets out a little snort.
God, she loves him.
It's as if he's reading her mind when he texts back I love you. Be safe.
Then, See you tonight.
Lucy doesn't try much the first few days, because she knows he'll be able to hold on for a bit and she thinks maybe she can lull him into a false sense of security, then attack when he's not expecting it. Let him wear himself down and then bam.
She sees an opportunity a few nights later when Tim has had a couple of drinks and Lucy thinks there's no way he'll be able to resist her advances, now, even though it's still early in the bet. He went out for drinks with his Metro team – which is a semi-regular occurrence now – and Lucy chuckles when he comes over to her apartment after.
He's not drunk by any means, but a few drinks always loosen him up. She knows he tends to get handsy when he's had a couple (though, maybe he's just always a little handsy with her and the drinks are his excuse to go for it more freely) so she's surprised he'd even come over, after. Maybe her plan of lulling him into safety is working.
Then again, he basically lives here Lucy's brain tells her, but she ignores it because she knows they should talk about this living arrangement sometime, she wants to talk about it sometime but that's too big for her brain to process. Deciding to live together is actually bigger than a proposal, isn't it? If you move in together, you're basically committing to an engagement, expecting to end up engaged.
"Hi, baby," she greets with a grin when he comes in the door.
He holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm not giving in."
"What? I…"
"I know what you're thinking," he accuses, waving a finger at her. "I'm going to forget about the bet."
No one has ever, ever been able to see through her like this, to know every single thought and idea and plan she has in her head and she loves it, but she also has a feeling that she'll never get away with anything, ever, for the rest of their lives (then again, two can play at that game).
She won't let him derail her plans completely. She just grins, steps closer and tugs on the sleeve of his t-shirt. "But you look so sexy in this shirt," she whines and he just rolls his eyes.
"So you've said, like a thousand times. If you want me to give in you're going to have to try harder than that."
She huffs her annoyance. "Fine, then. You're not sexy," she shoots back and he laughs.
"Guess I'll go change then."
"Fine."
Suddenly, she's not sure who's the one playing who.
The weather is nice, and they decide to go out for a run on a Sunday evening. The time will be changing in a few weeks and it's one of their last opportunities to get in an outdoor run before it's dark and colder and their workouts are confined to the gym.
"We could get up early," Tim suggests. "Run before work. It'll be light out earlier."
They both know it will never happen, because it will be cold and if they're going to wake up earlier, they're going to occupy their time in their bed, instead. (There she goes again, she thinks. It's her bed. His bed. There's no their bed.)
"We could work out in bed, instead," she teases with a squeeze to his bicep before unzipping the jacket she's wearing and tossing it aside on Tim's porch, as if she's seemingly decided not to wear it but rather, she wants to reveal her actual outfit for their run: her sports bra with the crisscross straps in the back.
"I'm not falling for it."
"For what?" Lucy asks, plastering a look of innocence on her face that he doesn't buy one bit. "We're just going for a run."
"And you're wearing a sports bra. In October."
"It's Los Angeles," Lucy huffs her faux indignation. Well, it's actually real. But it's not because he's accusing her of something she didn't do, it's because he sees right through her. Again. "It may as well still be summer. It's like seventy-five degrees at 5pm."
"You never dress like this when we run, and you're not going to bait me."
Lucy rolls her eyes, flipping her braided hair behind her. It's also not often she does her hair cute for a run, but he hasn't commented on that, yet. She also knows these are his favorite leggings on her – from learned experience – but he's dead set on acting like he doesn't notice.
"Let me stretch before we start," she says casually.
Tim rolls his eyes, on to her, as Lucy bends over in front of him and stretches down to touch her toes, adding a few sound effects for good measure, letting out a groan or two at the pleasurable stretch of her muscles. "Lucy."
"Hmm?"
"It's not going to work."
At that, he starts jogging off ahead of her, leaving her behind. She huffs her annoyance and stops her stretching act to run and catch up to him, unable to hold back a laugh.
Lucy thinks she hasn't had much luck in breaking Tim, but she realizes that he might be having a harder time than he's letting on the next morning when she's in the shower while Tim's in the kitchen, and she realizes she doesn't have a towel.
She calls out to him and she hears him open the door, crack it ever so slightly as if he shouldn't intrude – which is ridiculous, because he's gotten into the shower with her plenty of times. She laughs, thinking back to the Vegas hotel room they shared where the shower seduction all started, how he'd confessed to her later how her bare back had thrown him all off kilter, and she realizes that if he won't come in the bathroom it means he's afraid he's going to be tempted.
And she didn't even have to plan this one.
"I need a towel," she tells him. "Tamara's always taking the last one and never replacing them."
"No way."
"What do you mean 'no way'?" she asks with a frown. "You're just… not going to get me a towel?"
"You're trying to get me to walk in there and see you in the shower-"
"I'm behind the curtain!"
"You won't be as soon as a come in there."
"Tim, I'm serious," she says, but she can't help but laugh at how on edge he is. "Besides, I thought you could resist me so easily? Doesn't seem to be the case if you can't even look at me in the shower-"
"Lucy."
"Think about me in the shower," she amends her statement with a chuckle. "Anyway, if you don't come in here with a towel I'll just have to come out and get one without-"
She hears the door creak open further, he tosses a towel on the bathroom sink and shuts the door in a hurry, her laughter fading behind the closed door.
As the days tick on, she tries all she can think of – subtle and obvious both.
She's tried wearing next to nothing to bed. She's tried wearing shorts and a tank top, despite the fact it's Los Angeles and while it's 80 degrees in the middle of the afternoon in October, it's nearing the low 50s at night and in the morning and she's freezing. She's tried wearing his old t-shirts, something he's usually never able to resist. She can see him looking, but he thinks he's doing it subtly enough she doesn't notice. She can see him flex his hands, his jaw clench. She knows he's noticing. But he refuses to give in.
He's too damn competitive for her own good.
She tries the tried-and-true tricks from movies and TV. Putting lotion on her legs right in front of him. Asking him to zip her dress.
She makes inappropriate comments.
She makes suggestive comments.
And he refuses to give in.
She's starting to get a little annoyed, because she didn't realize this was also going to be a punishment for herself, too. Why the hell did she suggest a bet where he's supposed to keep his hands off of her? What, is she an idiot?
It's possible she's played herself, because she may be the one who can't resist.
She tries to entice his imagination by showing him pictures of costumes she could wear – and the matching costume he could wear – but he just shrugs at each one as if it does nothing for him.
Maybe he needs to see the costumes.
She decides to start simple. She pulls on the flashy 70's dress – long sleeve, but sheer. The dress cuts off above the knee and the top has a deep neckline. Should be enough to get some sort of reaction out of him. After all, it's been eight days.
At this point, just imagining him in her costume of choice (her top contender right now is a vampire, because damn he could pull that off and there is something entirely sexy about the idea of Tim as a vampire) is enough to throw her over the edge. If she were to see it in front of her face, well – she can only hope seeing her in a costume will get him to give in.
He's in their bedroom (her. Her bedroom, she reminds herself and she has a momentary flash thinking about what it would be like to be domestic like this officially and then focuses on the task at hand) when she comes out of the bathroom where she'd strategically hid to change into this costume so he wouldn't get a glimpse before it was on her.
"Do you like this?"
Lucy watches as Tim's eyes rove over her, lingering a moment at the v-neck in the top. She can see the moment he regains his composure. "It's okay."
"I'm just trying to find something I can wear that doesn't need a couple" she informs him. "Since you're clearly going to win this contest."
"Do you think I was born yesterday?" he asks her with a smirk. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
She scrunches her nose at him in annoyance and asks, instead, "So I should wear this to the party?"
"You shouldn't wear that anywhere but for me," Tim retorts without even looking her way and she grins, knowing she got him, but then grumbles in annoyance when she realizes that's as much as he'll let on.
"I have another option," she lets him know as she returns to the bathroom.
She honestly could not tell you if she left that bathroom door cracked in Vegas on purpose, if she knew it had bounced back open and she let it be – she really doesn't know herself.
Today, though, she absolutely does not close the door, purposely changes within his line of sight, then moves out of the way just before he can get a peek of the costume.
(It worked in Vegas, didn't it?)
"What do you think of this one?" Lucy asks, coming out of the bathroom again. This time, she's gone for the costume she thinks will get to him the most. It's supposed to be a baseball player, but in reality – it's mostly just a tiny blue skirt that barely covers her thighs and a tight white top that doesn't cover much but her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. It comes with knee high socks which she decides to put on at the last minute because it really puts the focus on her bare thighs.
Two days left, and she's pretty sure he's going to hold out on her – he's come this far. And, fine. So, she doesn't get him to wear a costume. She'll live. At this point she'll be more wounded that she couldn't get him to cave than anything.
Tim turns to look at her, and she expects the trademark roll of his eyes – the teasing that she's ridiculous, the taunting that she can't break him, the 'Lucy' that indicates he's not falling for her antics, the insistence that the costume does nothing for him (even when she knows it does).
Instead, she sees something else. His eyes rove up and down her body and she can feel him soaking in every inch of her as he steps closer to her ever so slowly.
"Lucy."
There it is.
"Hmm?"
"You have five seconds."
She blinks, confused. "Five seconds until what?"
"Until I rip that costume off you."
Oh.
This startles her, surprised by his intentions and before she knows what's happening, he's next to her, hands on her hips, guiding her to the edge of the bed before he lifts her slightly and throws her down on top of it.
She blinks at him, surprised, and he laughs huskily at her confusion as he comes down on top of her.
"You… you're giving in?" she questions with a quirk of her eyebrows even as her arms come up to wrap around his neck. He doesn't answer her, just leans down to kiss her, his hands coming to cup her face and guide her mouth to his as his tongue probs at her lips.
He kisses her and she might lose her mind because after eight days of nothing this is enough to send her over the edge, the way that very first kiss was enough to send her into a spiral. She forgets everything for a minute, gives in to the kiss and kisses him back just as enthusiastically before he pulls away and looks down at her with a passion and a hunger in his eyes.
"I mean, technically you haven't done anything more than kiss me and-" she stops abruptly when she feels his hand slide up her thigh and under the skirt of the costume and his grunt of acknowledgement when he realizes she doesn't have anything on underneath.
She gasps, bites her lip. "Okay, alright, message received," she teases through a laugh that quickly morphs into a groan as he nips at the hollow of her neck.
"You win," he says, voice breathless. "I don't care, I'll wear whatever costume you want," he tells her with certainty as he pulls back to look her in the eye. "I'll wear one of those stupid inflatable costumes where you can't tell who's the human and who's the character. But I just need you to be inside you right now."
She lets out a laugh at the idea of him in such a costume, but that's really not what she has in mind. "No, babe, that's not what I'm going for. I'm going for something sexy, like maybe-"
"Lucy."
"Hmm?" she asks, breathless, eyes sparkling as she teases him.
"Can we talk costumes later?" he asks, voice strangled, as he tugs at the hem of the skirt teasingly. "Because I don't think I have ever wanted someone more in my entire life than I want you right now."
She flushes at that, but grins up at him. "Yes, sir," she teases and he lets out a groan.
She knows how to play him. She knows how and when to say things like that to just push him over the edge. She knows the words to use, what that particular phrase can do to him given their history, but she knows how to save it for just the right moment, how to use it sparingly enough that it throws him for a loop and catches him off guard.
Her words spur him on and he's on her, his mouth attacking hers, seeking entrance which she instantly grants. Then his lips move to her neck, behind her ear, her throat, down her chest, continues on to dip his tongue behind the backs of he knees. Tugs at the tops of the socks before reaching down to tug them off, stopping to massage her foot, nipping at her toes momentarily.
He kisses his way up her thighs from her knees and she can tell his destination immediately. He flips her skirt up and she's not sure if she's laughing or gasping. but she runs a foot up his back and nudges him on the shoulder.
"Come up here," she begs him.
He's reluctant, looks up at her. "I had plans down here," he laments and she laughs.
"Believe me, I know and please, let's reconvene later but I'm sorry it has been eight days for me, too, and I need you like, right now so –"
He doesn't even let her finish when she hears the telltale sound of fabric ripping and she should be annoyed that he just ruined what was an overpriced costume but she really doesn't care because his desire for her is making her even more crazed, the fact he is literally ripping this costume off her enough to make her out of her mind.
"Jesus, Tim," she mutters.
"You make me stay away from you for eight days," he growls as his hands slide up waist and reach for the few tiny buttons on her top, popping it open easily. "You tease me the entire time," she laughs as he nips at her ear, throwing the top to the side. "What do you expect?"
"And here you really made me believe you weren't going to falter."
He laughs deeply, into her shoulder and grumbles. "The only reason I ran ahead of you on the run was so I didn't pull you back inside the house."
She laughs, uses her feet to push down his sweatpants. "Please," she begs, and she wonders how suddenly she's become the one begging for him when he was supposed to be the one unable to resist her.
He slides into her easily, moves momentarily slowly as she adjusts.
The first time they did this, she thought the feeling of him inside her was so intense, emotional, perfect because of all the years of build-up, because it was them, because they had so many years of unresolved sexual tension. But she's come to realize, now, that it's just the feeling of being with someone she's so in love with, of feeling so comfortable while being so vulnerable, of being fulfilled in every way and she's gotten used to the fact she'll never get used to it.
"Maybe we should do this more often," she says through a strangled gasp at the feeling of him inside of her, the build-up and anticipation sending her spiraling towards the edge in no time.
"We're never doing this again," he tells her with certainty and she bursts out laughing before he starts moving suddenly, fast and hard inside of her. They both know it isn't going to last long and she is absolutely okay with that, because she swears that he's hitting places inside of her she didn't know existed.
Despite the fact it's fast and frantic, his hand finds its way to entwine with hers, his eyes are locked on hers and she cannot help but feel so much love for him in this moment and she never wants to be away from him, ever.
"Oh, God," she mumbles as she feels her eyes shut in pleasure. She wants to keep them open, wants to look at his, but she feels her orgasm building and she can't help but lose herself in the feeling.
"You feel so good," he mutters into her sweat slicked collarbone and his words throw her over the edge and she feels herself falling, she knows she's saying something but she's not sure if it makes sense to either of them except for maybe the I love you she lets out as he falls over the edge himself.
They take a few moments to catch their breath – she doesn't know how long it's been, feels like an hour ago that she thought she'd try on one last costume to no avail and at the same time it seems like they ravished each other in a split second. He pushes off her, rolls over and brings her with him to his chest. She spends a few minutes just breathing in his scent while he strokes her arms, her hair, absentmindedly.
"Because I'm a nice girlfriend," she says with teasing sincerity as she snuggles up against his chest, appreciating the warm embrace as much as the prior release, "I'm going to give you some options."
"Fantastic," Tim deadpans and Lucy rolls her eyes and elbows him gently as she grabs for her phone.
Tim watches, sees the pic of Kojo on her lock screen, then remembers something. "Shoot. Kojo. I figured we wouldn't be…" he gestures between them. "And I wouldn't be staying here if we didn't because my resolve was crumbling and I couldn't risk the temptation. I have to go home."
Lucy laughs, but her mind brings up the idea again that there is no reason for them to still be having this predicament. "Hey. I'll cut you a deal."
"A deal?" he asks with confusion and curiosity.
"You're not getting out of the costume thing. But I'll let you choose your own costume if," she bites her lip nervously and stops talking, suddenly hesitant.
He studies her demeanor; can tell she has something on her mind that's making her anxious. "What is it?" he asks gently, concerned, taking her hand to give it an encouraging, comforting squeeze.
His tender tone gives her the surge of confidence to continue, because this is right.
"If you'd just consider – and you can say no – us figuring out this living situation."
"Living situation?"
"Yeah, like…" she's not sure how to say it, because she has never – ever – been the one to take the big steps in a relationship, ever. Not only that, she's never taken this step before. Never wanted to take this step before. "It doesn't really make sense to have two different places and be worrying about Kojo and -"
"Are you saying you want me to consider living with you?"
She bites her lip again. "Yeah. Yes." At that, he laughs – deeply laughs – and she frowns and hits him on the chest. "Well, a simple no would be fine. But I'm going to really go rogue on your costume now because-"
He cuts her off. "You think I would say no?" She blinks. "Of course I would consider it – I've been considering it for months – I don't have to consider it, I'm ready to do it. We're together all the time, we basically spend every night together, I hate the nights when I have to leave or you have to leave. I just thought you wouldn't be… I remember with Chris you weren't…"
Now, Lucy laughs. "Of course I didn't want to live with him. I was in love with you the whole time."
"Oh," he says simply with a laugh, as if that should have been clear.
"So…?"
Tim grins, and she feels instantly at ease. "So, listen to this. Since I'm not going to consider it – because my mind is already set and I'm all for it – let's do it, and I'll still let you pick my costume."
She gapes at him, a grin spreading over her features. "Seriously?"
"Hey, fair is fair. You won the bet."
"Mmhmm, that's right. I did." She giggles as he gives a little playful pinch to her side. "Because you can't keep your hands off me."
"Though, honestly, I don't think there were any losers in what just happened tonight."
She laughs, but can't deny that. "No, there definitely were not."
She knows this is the beginning of everything. This is the beginning of everything she's always wanted but never been ready to have with anyone else, the beginning of his second chance at the life he's always wanted to live.
"We can do this however you want, okay?" he tells her gently. "I know there's Tamara to think about. So… you take the lead on this, where we live. But… one day, eventually… it would be nice if we found a new place, our own place, you know, one we can look for together and wander around in considering and imagine our future. Go out and buy new furniture together."
"Mmm. We might even buy a new bed," she teases.
"We're going to have so much fun in that bed," he says and she feels goosebumps, thinking about all the years implied ahead of them. "The rest of our lives."
"Well, I mean… we might buy another new bed at some point during the course of our lives," she teases but even that makes her feel warm all over, thinking about a long life ahead with Tim, years to come and having to go bed shopping sometime in the future to replace the new bed they haven't even gotten yet.
Silence falls over them before Tim remembers Kojo and, despite the huge relationship milestone they just hit, realizes he has to leave.
"I have to go," Tim laments as he looks at the clock.
"I'll go with you."
He quirks an eyebrow, thinking of how crazy that is when she's already comfortable in her own bed. "Are you sure? It's late and…"
"I'm coming with you," she insists as she gets up and throws on an oversized shirt. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."
He pulls her to him, kissing her on the head and letting his hand gently stroke over her hip. "I've been stuck with you since the day I met you."
"In love with me since then, too, probably," she teases with a grin over her shoulder as she looks for some shorts.
He rolls his eyes. "Definitely not."
"Liar."
"When we get to my place," he tells her as he pulls her hair from where it's stuck in the collar of her shirt. "There are some things we can do in my bed that you promised I could revisit later."
She laughs, kisses him on the lips softly, surprised at how free and light and happy she feels, not a nerve or a kernel of anxiety in sight. "Deal."
"So, are you going to tell me what my costume is?" he asks as he pulls her into his arms, unable to resist kissing her one more time.
She grins at him, and she thinks she may have fallen in love with him all over again at the fact that she tried to let him off the hook for the costume choice and he's still letting her choose. But really, should she be surprised? After all, he just lost a bet indicating he can't resist her at all.
"Vampire," she says with certainty and with a grin and he groans good naturedly.
"God, I knew it," he says with a laugh which causes her to burst out laughing, too.
"Why, have I told you my sexy vampire fantasies before?"
"No," he growls and she watches as he moves away from her before, she assumes, they end up back in her bed and Kojo calls protective services on them. "But we will definitely be exploring that more."
"Mmhmm," she says with a laugh. "We'll have fun. Wait until you see my vampiress costume."
"I don't know if I can take you in another costume."
"Well," she says as she shoves her feet into her shoes and flips of the light in the bedroom, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. "That might be a problem seeing as we've got quite a few more Halloweens in front of us."