A whole new story, ignore the previous two. It probably doesn't rain at this time of the year in New Orleans, but I made it up for fun.
Set after "My City".
Balcony of NCIS New Orleans HQ
2000 hours
"Hey all, I'm retiring early for the night," Senior Special Agent Dwayne Pride announced. "Laurel just texted inviting me over to one of her musical performances so I've a to catch a early flight. You can stay here, just keep the noise level down though I don't expect you all to do so. If not there's city to conquer."
"I'm going back Pride," Dr. Loretta Wade said. "My bones aren't the same as they used to me."
"I'll walk around," Sebastian Lund said, lifting his arm then thinking better. "The city air is better down around the streets."
"Did you want to raise your hand again?" Whined Patton Plame.
"Listen you…"
"Pride, I better clean up my place before I join you proper so thanks all. Have a great weekend." Sonja Percy waved and moved off.
"Well, that leaves us," Special Agent Christopher LaSalle remarked. "Guess it's the same old question: Any special plans?"
"Nothing," Brody said, finishing her beer.
"Doc Wilkins still out of town?"
"Yeah, still with the 4th Fleet, or what I hear is AFRICOM wants him to train some countries in don't know which African country."
"The travelling doc," LaSalle replied, careful not to say the word 'shrink'. "So you're alone again."
"Before you ask it, no I'm declining any dinner," Brody quickly added.
"Well, nothing really went wrong last time," LaSalle commented, remembering their dinner after the Newman baby case. "Except maybe a slightly over-salty garlic bread."
"It's not your bread, I just like to wander alone tonight. Have a good evening, LaSalle," she shook her partner's hand and wandered off. New Orleans was New Orleans as always: musicians performing at almost every block, students and workers reveling in the streets as if it was a public holiday and outlets filled to the brink with already tipsy revellers. Just as Brody crossed another crossing, she heard the roar of thunder above. Darn it, she thought, it's only like early spring. Is this the kind of greeting New Orleans gets?
The drops already started to fall as the seasoned Federal Agent moved through the night crowds. Quite a number of those in front of her have opened umbrellas or use their bags to shelter themselves. I've been through hell weather while on sea deployment, she thought. So why on earth would I require any cover? A few minutes later, Brody dismissed that thought as the droplets miraculously turned into pouring rain and the crowds dashed into any nearby covered shelters or bus strops. Damnit, Brody said as a short breeze blew the rain her and others nearby. Darn it, I'm many blocks away from my place...
Wait a minute, this is the French Quarter, Brody thought. LaSalle lives some where around her. Well, two blocks from where I am, she remembered. Braving the increase rainfall, she crossed several streets and reached his apartment block. Despite her quick moves, Brody was now drench with the rain, her long sleeve top and pants clinging on to her skin. One floor, two floor, damnit, why didn't they fix the lift in this block. Finally, a super soaked Brody jammed her finger against the doorbell. No answer. "LaSalle!" she called. Still no answer. "LaSalle it's me..."
The door flung open to reveal LaSalle yanking up his jeans. "Hey you don't have to shout the whole place...oh wow," he commented, looking at the state of his partner.
"Wow, is an under...ah choo!" Brody sneezed. "Understatatement." Darn, this is the first I've caught a cold, she thought.
"Come on in," LaSalle commented, "you need to get out of those clothes immediately."
"Get out of..."
"I didn't mean it that way, Brody," LaSalle gave a short laugh. "But I do know not to cling on to super soaked clothes. There's my shower," he pointed. "Should be a spare towel in the shelf above if not give me a call."
"Tha...ah choo!" Brody sneezed again. Slipping off her also soggy shoes, she made her way to the bathrrom and gladly took off, or more like, peeled off her clothes and underwear. As the shower water warmed up her skin, she thought back to her original dismal of joining LaSalle. Just because of the weather, I'm here, using his shower. Or more like being naked in LaSalle's lair. Haha, what ever next?
LaSalle's Residence
French Quarter, New Orleans
2045 local
Brody turned the shower nozzle to "off" and exited the shower cubicle. The extra towel was pretty rough but she supposed that's how LaSalle, or maybe Alabamian's like it. Right, now to wear..oh darn, Brody thought, my clothes are outside. Wrapping the towel tightly across her large breasts, she gingerly exited the shower room and found a male sweatpants and sports shirt with the words "CRIMSON TIDE" written diagonally across the front.
"What the…LaSalle?!" Brody cried noticing her partner just outside.
"What the? I bought you some dry clothes," he replied.
"But..where's my clothes?!" she cried, immediately thinking that he hide them away or even touches her underwear.
"It's over there. You left it there. I didn't move them an inch," he pointed and she rushed to the pile in the corner. Yes, everything was there, bra, panties, shirt, coat, pants. So did he touched anything?
"Brody what's has come over you?"
"Err…" she took a few deep breathes. Ok, ok, you're imagining things. This is LaSalle, your partner, only occasionally playful, but mostly a cultured gentleman.
"Well, do you want to just stand there? It's obvious we aren't the same size but that's the best I have."
"Oh…yeah… uh, where's your dryer?"
"Ha…actually I don't have one. But I think my washing machine comes with it. I've never tried it though; just always hang my clothes up to dry. You wanna dress first?"
Brody peered at the two pieces of clothing as LaSalle left the room. Despite the constant interaction with him, she never really judged LaSalle by his size. Sure, she had seen his biceps and triceps but she had never really judged LaSalle's size. Now, the shirt he had provided gave her an indication of how large his torso was—she was practically swimming in his shirt. The sweat pants was far worse—the size was several inches larger than her slim waist and the elastic was loose. With one hand yanking the pants up and the other holding her soaked clothes, she headed out to find LaSalle.
"Well yeah looks like I do have a dryer after all…woah," LaSalle commented. "You are really swimming in my clothes."
"Yeah, well, can you work it?" Brody asked, dumping her clothes and underwear in in one go. Crap, this pants really need to be yanked up every few minutes.
"Yep, I think that's it," LaSalle said closing the hatch and watching the lights blink. "It's moving and I don't think it's washing it."
"It better not be," Brody jabbed him then lost her grip and the loose pants drop half way. Her quick reactions caught it but not before behind was momentarily exposed.
"Shit," she called out loud but the 'damage' was done.
"Oh is that your…"
To be continued.
