Story: Major Crimes: Halloween
Characters: Rusty and Kris
Rating: K+ for thematic elements
Summary: A Halloween night like no other for Rusty and Kris.
Takes place in: Some fantasy world where everything is all right and Rusty has no fears or worries and Kris hasn't gone to Emma about his letters and we're not waiting impatiently to learn his fate. I admit it's not quite how I originally pictured it, but Rusty told me the story and I simply wrote it down. May you enjoy it as much as I did!
"Tell me again why I'm doing this?"
Kris tugged at the white cravat snugged around Rusty's throat, the ruffled lacy tickling his chin.
"Because I sweetly cajoled and you agreed." She grinned at him. "Come on, it'll be fun! You'll love it, I promise."
"You've got me in high-heeled shoes, Kris! And don't even get me started on the powdered wig!"
"They're not high-heeled shoes, they're gentleman's boots from the 1700s. I'm the one in high-heeled shoes!" Twirling in a circle, the long silk skirt swirling above her ankles, Kris showed off the dainty footware. "How do I look?"
Rusty's stomach plunged to his feet and then into his throat before settling back into its proper place. Her hair was piled in voluminous curls atop her head, glued in place by tons of hairspray and dozens of pins. A choker graced her slim throat and the bodice of her gown clung to her young figure, its square neck hinting at decollete.
"You look . . . nice, Kris. Really nice." Probably the prettiest Martha Washington ever.
Her eyes narrowed, the little mole drawn up under her eyelashes. "I know you must think I look ridiculous. And maybe I do, but what's the point of Halloween if you don't dress up!?" And with that she flounced to the bed to scoop up her beaded handbag.
The room reflected her personality, all subtle modesty until you looked beneath the surface and caught the sparkle. Her boudoir mirror stood stylishly bland except for the garland of hot pink feathers strung across the top. A body pillow of the same hot pink nestled behind scads of black and white square pillows. She sprinkled bits of her personality across the otherwise insanely tidy room.
"What are you staring at?"
Rusty coughed. "Nothing. Uh, shall we go, milady? Before I lose my nerve?"
Giggling, Kris swept out her bedroom door leaving him to follow in her wake.
Rusty's knees threatened to lock on his way up the path. Kris had her arm threaded through his and her insistent tug was the only thing to keep him from tucking tail and running. The door flung open, noise exploding into the night, before Kris's finger could push the doorbell.
"Kris! Oh my gawd, you made it! This is like, so awesome!"
He didn't even warrant a greeting, but Rusty hadn't expected one so it made no difference. Taylor yanked Kris, and by way of reaction him, through the front door and into the hallway. The entire house was awash with teenagers. Tall ones and short ones, but not a single nerd or geek did he see, other than himself and Kris.
Taylor thrust them through the sliding doors into the largest main room he had ever seen, squealing, "Look, everyone, doesn't Kris look, like, amazing!" That's all it took. Teens swamped them within moments, all cackling and jabbering at once.
"Oh my gawd, your dress! Why did I come as a stupid fairy?"
"Colin's dressed as Dracula, did you see? He's going around trying to bite people!"
"Where's the bathroom? I'm gonna puke!"
Rusty's skin crawled. The sheer pressure of that many bodies pulled him away from Kris and before he knew it she was locked in the center of the room by adoring friends and he was pushed to the outside, against the wall. The doorbell rang and Taylor flew into the hall to admit more partygoers. This was apparently the final batch because she hollered down the hall, "Alex, come take care of the trick-or-treaters or I'll tell Mom about the girlie mags under your bed!"
A chubby tween stalked down the hall toward his sister, his face beet red, arms crossed. "Why do I get stuck with kiddie duty?"
"Because I said so!"
"You know what," he audibly sniffed, "I don't care. You've spiked the punch, I can smell it from here! So who's going to be tellin' Mom on who, Tay-LOR!"
"You little punk!" She grabbed at him, but he darted past her and into the throng of her guests, vanishing in the myriad of costumes.
"I'll do it."
She blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"I'll hand out candy to the kids."
She blinked several more times.
"Well . . . fine. Thanks, Randy."
Randy. It figures.
The chair bumped and scraped across the hardwood floor until he nudged it against the glass beside the door. There was no candy anywhere in sight. Hesitating, Rusty traversed the hall, moving farther from the noise. Doors pushed open revealing a study, a dining room, a disgustingly messy family room, and finally the kitchen. It was a wreck. The bag of candy crunched onto the floor at his feet, toppling from one of the numerous cupboards he explored. Hunting up a bowl, Rusty dumped the candy and hauled the twenty pounds back down the hall, wobbling precariously on the elevated shoes.
"Who are you?"
Rusty stared at the first child, befuddled, before remembering he was in costume.
"Oh yeah, I'm George Washington."
The kid scratched the back of his knee, one stubby little finger plugged up his nose. Rusty winced.
"Iron Man, I think you're supposed to say trick-or-treat. And just a little hint for you, but kids who don't pick their noses get more candy."
The doorbell rang incessantly. The various strata of candy depleted, and within half an hour Rusty found himself watching for Kris. His throat muscles tightened the longer he sat by that front door. Teens came and went through the two front rooms and a guy with a blonde crew cut dashed madly for the bathroom before retching into the potted plant on a little hall table.
The noise changed. The laughter that had been solely energy driven now had that drunken slurr. Flicking the exterior lights off, Rusty plopped the nearly empty bowl on the chair and stepped back into the main room. His eyes dashed across the teenagers engaged in Halloween fun like the unsanitary bobbing for apples and mashing lips together on every spare piece of furniture. Taylor pranced to the pounding music, and Rusty tapped her arm which she ignored, so he finally resorted to yanking her away.
"Where's Kris?" He bellowed in her ear.
"Who?"
Teeth gritting, he snarled, "Kris! You know, the girl I came here with . . . Martha Washington!"
She tripped over her own feet and sat down in a fit of giggles.
"Oh, Kris! She was right over there." Taylor pointed unevenly to a vacant corner of the floor. "Oh yeah, I think Chad just took her upstairs. She looked like totally wasted!"
Rusty took the stairs two at a time and when his ankle wobbled, he yanked the high-heeled shoes off and venemously tossed them over the railing, relishing the indignant cursing that followed. Door after door slammed open, revealing an obscenely long row of bedrooms until he heard a muffled sob from one at the end of the hall.
Chad's teeth clanked together as his back smacked into the wall. Rusty delivered an uppercut to his jaw and then a jab at his abdomen before shoving the drunk doubled-over teen into the hall hard enough to rattle the family picture frames.
"Who the hell are you!?" Chad gaped up at him.
"I'm Rusty. And you're dead meat if you're not down those stairs in three seconds."
The adrenaline drained and Rusty slumped against the door frame, watching Chad limp down the stairs. Kris sniffled behind him and then her slim arms wound around his waist from behind. Rusty clasped her fingers before gently easing her away so he could face her.
"Are you all right?"
"Mmmhmm. He didn't," she inhaled a shaky breath, " have time to do anything. Oh wow, you were an avenging angel, eyes all blazing. I didn't know you were like that."
"Yeah well, sometimes I surprise myself."
Clutching at her head with one hand and her stomach with the other, Kris moaned, "Oh, why do I feel so sick?"
Gnawing his lower lip, Rusty collected her shoes, stockings, and handbag. "Because you're drunk."
"What?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Oh, my mother is going to kill me."
"No, she'll kill me instead." He forced open a window and eased her against the frame. "I'm sorry. I should have watched out for you better."
"Don't you dare take responsibility for this, you idiot. I know Taylor can be a little wild, but I had no idea she would . . ."
He brushed damp curls off her forehead with the back of his hand.
"Mrs. Washington, I think you've had quite a night."
She grinned weakly. "I'm sorry for leaving you. You were there one minute and gone the next and someone, Chad I think, handed me some punch and then another cup of punch and then I just felt so dizzy and tired."
One shoulder of her dress sagged deeply off her arm and Kris straightened it with a blush.
"I can't go home like this."
"Come on, I'm sure Sharon would let you crash at our place for a few hours until you sober up. We'll find some black coffee, although I hear that its remedy is only an old wives' tale."
"Oh," she swayed, "for my sake, I hope it's true. I've never felt so sick in all my life."
Just as Rusty tucked Kris's wilted skirt into the passenger side of the car, police sirens wailed up the street. He hoofed it around to the driver's side, waiting for the red and white lights to shoot into Taylor's driveway before starting the car and pulling away from the curb. Sharon's car sedately trundled down the street, waited at the stop sign, and headed away from the impending disaster.
A hand brushed his shoulder. "Thanks for saving me, Mr. Washington."
Warmth spread through Rusty's chest. At the next stop light he took her hand, and lifted it to his lips. "Anytime, Mrs. Washington.
Reviews are always welcome! :)