"Harder!" Ciel cries. "Do it harder!"
"Ciel, give him a break," Loki pants, fanning his flushed face. "I'm on the verge of swooning over here. Isn't it hot all of the sudden?"
"If you can't handle this, go lie down again," the earl gasps. "And Draco, I said harder, I'm not some little doll!"
"There's no way you can take anymore— it's so damn tight!"
"Yes, how can you even breathe?" exclaims Loki.
"My butler would've gotten twice that length done by this point . . ."
"Twice? You're exaggerating!"
"Now that I think about it," Loki murmurs, "I will go to the chaise lounge and have that lie-doooown . . ."
Partway through the word, he faints away, sinking to the floor amidst the clouds of a crinoline petticoat.
"Maybe he should skip the corset." Ciel says, glancing at Loki, and Draco nods with a wince. Then he returns to lacing Ciel's own corset, gingerly pulling the strings out even further than before.
The invitation that the magpie so conveniently pilfered was not addressed to any one person— fraternities, with their dubious activities, never explicitly named their associates— yet sophisticated charms locked the scroll so only its intended addressee could open it. Ciel fussed with the charms for a few moments and then easily broke the seal.
"I would have needed at least an hour to disable those," Loki whispered to Draco.
"Same . . ."
"The invitation is for one man," Ciel announced upon unfurling the scroll. "There will indeed be a variety of excellent wines and spirits served, most likely including an Amontillado, and there will also be—" he cursed under his breath— "dancing. Each man is encouraged to bring along one or two girls. The event will occur on the first night of the second Family Weekend."
"How are we going to get two more invitations by then?" Draco asked. "Oh. Right. I suppose you can go alone."
Ciel winced at that. "I'd rather have some back-up."
"I could wear a dress, I suppose," Loki mused. "I should be able to do something with the nightgown . . ."
"No need for that," Ciel cut him off. "I'll have my family seamstress mock up something for you— for both of us. Hm, perhaps she can tailor that green gown from Germania . . ."
The next day, a courier delivered two large boxes stamped "Hopkins" to their door. Inside, Ciel found no pinned-up old gowns— instead, there were layers upon layers of new dresses, gloves, stockings, high heels, make-up, wigs . . . And of course the corsets.
Ciel settles on a baby blue cocktail dress with a corset to give him an hourglass shape. After losing his battle with a corset, Loki chooses a discreetly padded little black dress. They both decide on gloves, dark stockings and long, luxurious wigs— auburn for Loki, a rebellious steel-blue for Ciel.
Loki paints his nails black and adds an illusion to raise his voice, though he declines to do the same for Ciel. "How much of a difference would it really make?"
After a bit more fussing, they stand before a mirror, utterly transformed. Draco preens, resplendent in his black dress robes, while Loki and Ciel pose on either side, nearly unrecognizable thanks to layers of exquisite magical make-up.
"Astounding," Draco breathes. "My father said I'd never get a pretty date, and here I am with two."
"Watch it," Ciel glares. "I'm not just your date. I will be the date of everyone I can possibly use. I will seduce all the men, all the women, and everyone besides as a means to fulfill my quest."
They all chuckle at that, then fall into a wondering silence.
"My final round of research confirms that the fraternity has a wide assortment of specialty drinks," Ciel says, brushing his wig one last time before they head out, "distributed among three dispensaries. These storage rooms are all locked, with guards placed in front."
Loki hums while slipping on his long black leather boots. "Can we ask them for specific drinks?"
"We're not supposed to, according to etiquette," Ciel answers. "Fortunately, we're not trying to get a second invitation, so damn etiquette."
"All we have to do," Draco remarks, "is see whether they serve the Amontillado automatically and siphon some off. If they don't serve it, we'll simply make friends with the guards and convince them to give us some Amontillado. Not too difficult— we're a likeable lot, after all."
"I agree," Ciel concludes. "As missions go, this should be quite straightforward."
They arrive exactly on time, having left plenty of time for navigating the web of underground passages that tunnel around the fraternity's halls. As they approach the bouncer, Draco flashes his invitation with a haughty sneer, while Ciel and Loki hang onto his arms and flash brilliant smiles. They waltz in without difficulty, expecting an airy, well-lit ballroom, where waiters scuttle about with hors d'oeuvres and a violin quartet plays a light tune in the corner . . .
They find a rave.
"Ugh!" Draco slams his hands over his ears as throbbing club music crashes down on him. "What is this, a dwarven rock opera?"
"Wha— what are those three doing over there?" Loki squints into the darkness, sliced occasionally by bursts of multicolored pixie dust.
"Get it together." Ciel pulls down Draco's arms, yanks the two towards him, and shouts into their ears. "Let's make initial observations, and—"
Loki casts a spell, enveloping them in a bubble of silence that dulls outside noise.
"AND WE CAN—" Flinching at his now overly-loud voice, Ciel quiets down. "And we can divide and conquer. You all drank that antidote cocktail I mixed up, didn't you?"
"Yes—" Draco nods— "we are all inoculated against fratboy mystery punch."
"There's actual punch on the side table," Loki observes, "and a bowl of Bloody Mary, and . . . a bowl of blood. No Amontillado."
"This isn't quite as high-class an event as I expected," Draco sniffs. "Why everyone falls over themselves for an invitation is beyond me—"
"Focus, Draco," Ciel scolds. "Now, the first dispensary is over by that pathetic excuse for an orchestra, and I happen to recognize the guardian— he assists in teaching the advanced ballet classes. And if his dancing at all matches his character, he is elegant, gracious, and refined in every way. I'll take him down."
"I'll take the second one," Draco says, gesturing towards another door. Before it stands a pale, black-haired woman who surveys the whole party with profound disinterest. "She looks like she might appreciate my company."
"That leaves the third to me," Loki murmurs. "It's not so visible, but I'll slip off and find it."
Thus they split up to pursue their individual missions.
"Greetings," Ciel says, flashing his most charming smile, "I'm Robin. And you, I assume, are an angel newly fallen from heaven."
The guardian turns around, and Ciel realizes with a start that he has cloth cat ears on his head. Then Yuri Plisetsky gives him a sullen glare and growls, "The hell do you want?"
Draco strolls up to the bored-looking woman by the second door and says, "Hi."
"Hi." She gives him an encouraging, flirtatious smile.
"This party leaves a lot to be desired, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, they're a whole bunch of stupid posers," she says, rolling her eyes. "You're not, though, are you?"
"I—"
"My name's Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way."
"That's . . . A fascinating moniker."
"Yeah, the 'Ebony' bit is because of my hair—" she smoothly flips her long hair over her shoulder, and Draco sees it does indeed gleam ebony, with streaks of purple and red mixed in— "and the rest of it is because I'm a vampire."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, that's why they put me in charge of this storehouse. Everything in here has some sort of blood."
"So there's no plain wine to be found here?"
"Nah, that's for preps."
"Ah," Draco replies. "Well, this has been a stimulating discussion, but I need to head back to my friends—"
"What, you're just going to leave me like that?"
"Er . . . Yes?"
Suddenly, her icy blue eyes fill with limpid tears as Draco watches with alarm.
"You bastard!" she shouts angrily, turning heads across the room.
Loki takes one look at Crabbe and Goyle, who loom at the end of a hidden hallway, guarding the final dispensary, and he drops all plans of seduction. Instead, he reaches into his clutch and extracts two cupcakes that he stole from Ciel's latest hoard from Anteiku and a vial of a sleeping draught slyly poured from one of Draco's cauldrons.
He pours the potion on the frosting, covers the stain with illusory rainbow sprinkles, and places them on a dish. Hips swinging, he sashays down the corridor. "Hey, would you two like some dessert?
Just minutes later, they've slipped to the floor with a satisfying thunk. Loki throws a glance over his shoulder to verify he's alone and then starts rummaging through their pockets for a key.
"Alas," he whispers, "the cupcakes are a lie."
"Drop dead!"
Ciel turns on his heel and stomps away from Yuri empty-handed. He heads over to the second door, only to hear a shrill scream— "Get the hell out of here!"
And Draco is stumbling away, wearing a look of perfect bewilderment. "I don't understand, I just said I didn't know who Amy Lee was—"
"I just got hit with more cuss words than that time I joined a circus."
"Shall we try and find Loki? Maybe he's had more luck." They start to push through throngs of revelers towards the back of the main room, only to pause as screams break out near the entrance.
"What the hell—" Draco sputters as a new group of people storms in, clad head to toe in red robes.
"Ugh, and I thought this couldn't get messier," Ciel groans. "Anybody got a boiler room filled with zombies?"
Draco looks him. "Dare I ask why you want to know?"
The room around them explodes with chaos. Drinks, shoes, curses, and actual curse charms fly all around, and Ciel starts to smile as he surveys the wreckage.
"We're getting out of here," he declares, taking Draco's hand.
"We can't leave Loki behind!"
"He'll make it out just fine. Look!"
Draco looks backwards and finds the entire back of the room swallowed up by fog from a military-style smoke bomb.
"Oh, right," Draco mutters, rolling his eyes even as Ciel drags him through the crowds and towards the door. "The solution to chaos is to compound it, I should have known."
"He might have compounded chaos for everyone else, but he restored some control to himself, since only he's trained to function in that haze," Ciel shouts back. A red-robed woman tries to block Ciel's way, but he simply raises one leg and jabs her in the knee, driving his heel through the cloth and into her flesh. "Huh, the dancing lessons paid off."
Only a few moments later, they spill out into the hallway, and Loki follows mere feet behind, clutching his purse and a cask of Amontillado. "What the hell was that?"
Ciel takes the alcohol from him with a grin and barks, "Let's move, and I'll explain— well, not everything, but maybe half of what just happened."
I spy references to Portal, My Immortal, Tokyo Ghoul, and Monty Python. Thanks to idonquixote for giving me that last idea!