Title: Marshal Masquerade
Summary: Why are Marshall and Mary and Stan wearing Halloween costumes?
Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.
A/N: Halloween one shot set in early seasons
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Dressed to kill
It was late afternoon when Marshall and Mary walked out of the elevator holding, or in Mary's case, dragging garment bags. "Whose idea was this? I'm going to get him the biggest pair of clown shoes and make him wear them to work," Mary threatened.
Marshall drew a rapier from his costume and brandished it above his head."I am not a man," Marshall quoted, "I am Zorro!" Marshall proclaimed, swooshing his cape.
Eleanor had to ask. "Have you memorized the entire dialog from that movie? I'm impressed."
Marshall bowed low, sword on the floor, cape folded over his arm.
"Yeah. Just remember," Mary interjected, "Zorro wears the mask to hide his bald head and ugly mug."
Marshall sidled up next to her and whispered, "Then this should be Stan's costume."
Mary glared at him.
The security gate opened disgorging an unhappy Chief. "How am I supposed to get these to stick to my head?" Stan held up two pointy piles of fake hair. He examined the picture on the front of the bag labeled "Pointy Haired Boss."
"Look at the up side, Chief," Marshall consoled him. "You can wear your own clothes." He punctuated his positive statement with a grin.
"Let me see that Chief," Eleanor offered. She emptied the bag onto her desk. "There's spirit gum and apparel adhesive. One of those should work. Sit down and we'll get started."
Stan grunted, took his jacket off and sat, hoping no visitors arrived at the WITSEC office this late in the day.
"What time do we have to be at this shindig?" Mary had pulled out the wig and costume. "I gotta go home," she whined.
Eleanor looked at the peasant blouse Mary held up. "Oh yes. Strapless bra," she advised.
"Or a hell of a lot of duct tape." Mary grumbled.
Marshall perked up. "Duct tape? Did you say duct tape?"
"Yes, I said duct tape and no I don't need to know the history and many uses of duct tape. Thank you," Mary said with asperity. She grimaced as she imagined Marshall crafting a bra replacement out of duct tape.
Grabbing the bag with her costume, Mary prepared to leave when Stan intercepted her.
He blocked her way and quietly said, "If you need an article of clothing, Inspector, go home and get it and return here. Leave the costume. You can't be seen in it before the party." He looked at her seriously, or as seriously as he could wearing one point of the pointy hair boss.
"You mean if I need a bra," she stressed the word, watching Stan squirm. Stan squirmed but didn't back down.
"Okay, all right." She dumped the skirt and blouse on her desk and headed out the door.
"Black boots would go good with that, Mare." Marshall suggested.
Without turning around, Mary barked over her shoulder. "Thank you Miss Priss, I'll be sure to let my fashion coordinator know." After clearing the security gate she muttered, "You can be such a girl."
"I heard that," Marshall hollered back.
By the time Mary returned, Marshall's costume was complete. She was greeted with a view of Marshall's backside as he lunged with the fencing foil, thrusting toward the balcony doors.
Mary inhaled sharply at the view. Stan noticed the object of Mary's interest and raised an eyebrow. Mary quickly recovered asking, "Did you triple his caffeine intake today?"
"Don't worry. The sword is plastic. It bends," Stan assured her.
Eleanor piped up, loud enough for Mary to hear. "Silly man. He thinks you're looking at the sword. Tsk tsk." She and Mary shared and understanding look. Stan just didn't get it.
"I think he looks quite dashing," Eleanor declared so all could hear. The mask, gaucho hat, and black Spanish cape with red satin lining were the most obvious parts of the costume. Mary found herself eyeing the black silk shirt that hugged his torso, and the way the tight black pants hugged his ass. Black leather gauntlets completed the look. When Marshall became aware of her interest she asked, "Are those your own boots?" They were high black formal riding boots.
"Yes. I took dressage a while back." Marshall answered, checking to see he hadn't scuffed them.
"Of course you did," Mary mumbled.
"The riding boots were required. I haven't worn them much." He took a handkerchief and polished the already shiny boots. The costumes had to be returned. The property guy had emphasized that the costumes must be in the same condition as when they got it.
Mary turned to Eleanor. "Did you draw that mouthbrow on him?" She tilted her head toward Marshall.
Eleanor nodded. "I did," she announced proudly.
Mary walked close to Marshall and stared at his lips. "Good job."
Eleanor crossed herself and sighed, "The apocalypse must be near."
"C'mon, I've told you before when you've done a good job." Mary looked at Stan and Marshall, both of whom were nodding no.
"My bad," Mary apologized. "It looks good."
The blonde didn't hand out compliments without a reason. "What do you need my help with?" Eleanor countered, feigning exasperation.
Without batting an eyelash, Mary thrust the dark wig at Eleanor. "I can't get this thing to stay put. It's either too far back, showing my own hair, or too far forward. I can't see. It feels like it wants to slip off."
"We don't have much time," Eleanor said as she herded Mary, wig and costume to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Marshall approached the bathroom to see how much longer before Mary was ready. His fist was raised to knock when Eleanor opened the door with a flourish. "Allow me to present "Senorita Maria." Mary wore a white peasant blouse that bared both shoulders, a black tiered ruffled skirt with a red satin sash, a brunette wig the flowed down her back. A large red flower held the wig behind one ear.
Both Marshall and Stan were mesmerized by the transformation. When the peasant blouse slipped down exposing more of Mary's breasts, Marshall giggled, and Stan found something to do in his office. "Spirit gum for you too, Mary." Eleanor got the small bottle of stickiness and the double sided apparel tape. She had Mary turn around and face the wall. With a glare at Marshall, Eleanor proceeded to make her décolletage decent.
After a minute of fiddling, Mary batted her hands away. "Enough. It's good enough. I'm sure Marshall will let me know if the tape lets go. Right, Marshall?"
Marshall gulped and coughed. "I'm sure I won't be the only one to notice."
Now that it was safe, Stan looked at Mary appreciatively. Mary's abrasiveness made him forget or at least disregard her womanly assets, normally. They were hard to ignore in that blouse. The long skirt suited her lithe frame and hid her weapon.
"Your weapon?" Stan gestured to her skirt. "Fits okay?"
"Yeah this is so big I could fit an M16 under here, but the skirts too long. There's too much material. My weapon," she put her hand between the red sash and the peasant blouse, "is here. Got my hold out there. Mary patted the voluminous skirt. Can't pack much ammo though."
"If things go as planned, we won't need it," Marshall assured her. "This cape covers my shoulder holster and my hold out is in the cummerbund." Both Mary and Eleanor had noticed that the red cummerbund accented his trim torso nicely, very nicely.
Stan's costume was evaluated next. Marshall and Mary both bit the inside of their cheeks. It's not nice to laugh at your Chief. He was perfect as the pointy haired boss. His short stature, suite, tie and pointy hair were the exact replica of the cartoon character. Eleanor surveyed each of them with approval. "Off you go. Trick or treat."
"The trick will be arresting those douche bags," Mary proclaimed.
"That will be my treat," Marshall responded as they both attempted to leave through the narrow security gate. Shoulder to shoulder, his cape and her skirt exceeded the width of the gate. Mary stopped when she felt something tug at her skirt. It had gotten caught on the gate.
"Hang on senorita. I've got this." Marshall leaned down and unhooked the skirt. When he bent, the sword didn't. Eleanor saw Stan jump aside before his family jewels were gored. She snickered, then guffawed as the three stared at her.
Tears in her eyes, she recovered enough to say, "Go, just go. You're fine."
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Party hardly
Mary, Marshall and Stan stood just inside the entrance to the ballroom, checking the crowd. Stan assured them that Freddie and Jaime were already at the party, but his sources had not told him what costumes each wore.
"What idiot decided the perps would both attend a Halloween party," Mary groused.
Stan coughed. "That would be Antonio Feducci, the mobster. He likes costume balls, and since it's Halloween, the venue is a natural. The people here all have some connection to his organization. I wish we could seal the doors and arrest them all, but our warrants are for Freddie Bartos and Jaime Dantos. They are here. Feducci's invitations are ones you don't turn down."
"Do we know if they brought their girlfriends?" Marshall asked. They needed to know if they were looking for a couple.
"Do dirtbags like that have girlfriends?" Mary muttered.
"No," Stan answered. "No girlfriends that we know of."
Mary, Marshall and Stan checked the photos of Jaime and Freddie. Marshall had added hats, beards and mustaches. When a zombie waiter approached with flutes of champagne, Stan hid the photos in his jacket pocket.
Stan gestured, making a circle with his hand. "Go, go mingle, dance, whatever. Find these guys. Keep your com units on."
"Senorita," Marshall offered his arm chivalrously. He escorted Mary onto the dance floor. "May I have this dance? We can surveil the crowd as we trip the light fantastic."
"You trip me," Mary grunted, "you are going down with me." Did I say going down on me. Oh God. It's been too long between cowboys.
Since Marshall didn't turn bright pink, she figured her secret thoughts remained secret. She and Marshall spent a lot of time in each other's company. Mary was discovering that she liked his company. Above all she trusted him to have her back, to cover her blind. She'd never worked with anyone as closely, as seamlessly as she did with Marshall.
Marshall was tickled to have the opportunity to hold Mary close without her clocking him. He wrapped one large hand halfway around waist. "Don't tickle," she admonished.
"I'm not," he protested making his grip firmer, which resulted in drawing her body closer to his. "Better?"
Mary found she couldn't speak. His closeness had her heart trip hammering, and her tongue completely tied. She nodded in reply.
"Not to pry, but where's your comm unit?" Mary's skirt provided space to hide many things, but the comm unit couldn't be more than a foot or so from her mouth. He'd been looking for the comm unit. That's what he would tell Mary if she caught him checking her out.
Mary caught his eye, smiled slyly and looked down at her cleavage. Marshall coughed and made a point to look over her shoulder, checking the other dancers.
Mary had to admit, Marshall was a good dancer. He was easy to follow as he guided them to every corner. She moved her hand from his shoulder to his waist, pushing aside the cape and rubbing his weapon holstered on his back. She felt Marshall tense. She pulled him closer and felt another rigid part that wasn't a gun. Maybe rubbing his gun wasn't a good idea.
"Senorita," Marshall hissed. "Give me room to breathe." He had begun to pant which he chalked up to dancing and the temperature on the crowded dance floor.
Mary must have been channeling Brandi because she said, "Is that what they're calling it these days?" She hadn't moved back. She smirked when Marshall's ears turned bright pink under his hat.
"Freddie at one o'clock," Mary declared. Now, she loosened her hold on Marshall. The perp was dressed as the Joker. Marshall spun her around so he had a clear view. "Talk about typecasting," he murmured into her ear."As soon as Jaime is spotted, we tell Stan, then move in. We should try to maneuver them outside. There's a patio through those French doors." The doors were open wide to draw in the cool night air.
"Freddie's heading to the garden." Mary fumbled for her comm unit. Marshall kept his eye on Jaime.
"Stan, Stan. Freddie is the Joker heading for the patio. You and Marshall get him, I'll get Jaime to join the party out there."
Dropping the comm unit into its snug harbor, Mary started to get her weapon tucked into her sash. She forgot how close she was to his sensitive bits until he oofed. "Watch it!"
"Sorry," Mary sniggered. "Wouldn't want your gun," she paused to emphasize the word, "going off half cocked."
Marshall frowned but let it go when she said, "Go, go get Freddie secure then come back in. When we're done here you and I can pick up where we left off." She opened the fan and covered all but her eyes, one of which winked suggestively. "I'll be looking for Jaime."
The close encounter with Marshall had her inhaling and exhaling quickly. She was used the fan that came with the costume. She needed to cool off. She leaned against the wall to recover and to watch the garden doors. He's your partner. Let it go. Find Jaime.
As if thinking his name conjured the man, she spotted Jaime, that is to say Elvis. He was wearing a gold lame suit and black shirt. The pompadour he sported appeared to be his own black hair. Mary pushed off the wall and sauntered toward him, swaying her hips and fanning herself. She stopped halfway there, turned around and used the fan as cover the comm unit. Her weapon in the sash was ready to go. She didn't want anything getting in the way of her weapon. Freddie had a reputation for violence.
"Ess cuse me, Senor, do you have a light?" she cooed in a broken Spanish accent." And maybe a cigarette too?" She coyly, fluttered both the fan and her lashes. Freddie eyes traveled from her breasts to her hips, and he smiled. "Hey doll. Don't you clean up nice. You wanna spend the night with The King?"
"The night?" she nooded hesitantly." Perhaps a dance?" she snapped the fan opening it wider to block her bosom from his leering gaze, and make sure the comm unit was out of sight. Forgoing psuedo Spanish for her best Jersey accent she said. "I'm dyin' for a cig. Ya got one?" Mary knew Freddie smoked like a chimney.
Elvis nodded and put his arm around Mary's shoulders. "Sure thing senorita. Let's go to the patio so we don't have to listen to the pansies complain about smoke."
Mary tittered. She hoped Marshall realized she was heading his way with their other catch of the day. She kept one hand near her sash. Once they stepped onto the patio, Mary took a deep breath and said loudly, "It's really nice out here." Spotting a gleam in the bushes she recognized as the top of Stan's head, she walked to that side of the patio. Turning to face Elvis, she held her hand out for a cigarette.
When Jaime reached for the pack of cigarettes, he needed both hands to work the pack out of the small pocket. Mary nodded to Stan and the each grabbed an arm using an elbow lock. Jaime yowled. Stan advised him, "Jaime Dantos, you are under arrest." Stan grunted as Jaime fought to free himself as Mary fastened the handcuffs.
Arriving on the scene after Jaime was secured, Marshall announced "I get him to the van I'm sure Freddie will be glad to have company."
Mary put her hands on her knees, catching her breath, causing Stan to avert his eyes. "Senorita," he warned.
Realizing that her position exposed more than she intended, she straightened quickly. Stan moved next to her and mumbled. "Good thing Marshall already left. You would have given him a heart attack not to mention losing the comm unit. C'mon Inspector. Let's get out of these duds."
Back at the Sunshine Building, Stan was glad to ditch the itchy hairpiece. "Good work tonight Inspectors. Get those costumes back to property first thing tomorrow." His hair still sported a few fake curls, but otherwise he looked like Stan. "Have a good night."
As the elevator dinged, Marshall and Mary, or Zorro and the Senorita found themselves alone. There probably wasn't anyone else in the whole building.
"We never got to finish our dance," he whispered, closing in on her. Feeling especially bold, he grabbed Mary by the waist and pulled her to him. She didn't stiffen. She tried to put her arm around him.
"Lose the cape, Zorro," she ordered. "It's in the way."
Marshall dropped the cape, got rid of the sword and the hat. The mask stayed. He bowed low in front of her. "Your wish is my command. You did promise we would finish this."
"Damn straight," she acknowledged as they waltzed out the balcony doors. Mary rested her cheek on his chest as they swayed. "You do realize, there's no music playing."
"Who needs music when you have the melody of the stars?" He gestured to the nightscape off the balcony.
"Happy Halloween."