"DiNozzo, rise and shine." Gibbs slapped lightly at the blanketed lump. "It's almost one."
A thoroughly tousled head rose from out of the floral depths. "One?"
"One o'clock," confirmed Gibbs. "You've got a shopping trip."
"Oh, yeah." Tony pushed his way up to sit cross-legged on the bedding. He rubbed at his stiff neck. "Can't Abby just buy something?"
"No," Gibbs replied. "Now get up and get moving."
"Easy for you to say," muttered Tony, swinging his legs down and planting his bare feet on the carpet. He gestured toward the shower, "Gotta go—"
"So, go," ordered Gibbs. "I'll be next door. Kate and Abby are waiting, so get a move on."
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"This is not your father's shopping mall," explained a gleeful Abby as she ushered her charges down the brick sidewalks and wrought-iron balconies of Bourbon Street. She stopped to reach back and roust Tony from the posters at Big Daddy's.
Kate opened her mouth to make a comment, but decided against it. DiNozzo looked like he was dragging, despite his half-hearted attempts at feigning interest in the swinging mannequin legs. "Does Tony seem ... off?" she whispered to Abby when they'd easily outpaced him again.
They both looked back at the figure behind them. Tony had his hands stuffed in his khakis and was barely lifting his feet enough to shuffle along.
Abby grimaced thoughtfully. "Did you see who all he talked to last night?"
"Sometimes," said Kate. "Sometimes we were working different parts of the room."
"You meet anybody ... draining?"
"You're kidding with this psychic vampire stuff, right?"
"Hey, we've all met them," retorted Abby. "Even if we didn't call them that – people who just seem to suck the energy right out of you. Think about Proffitt down in accounting. Even talking to her just sucks the pleasure from your bones."
"Some personality types are ... tiring," Kate admitted. "But I'm not going to go around calling them vampires."
"Why not?" Abby stopped, allowing their straggler to catch up with them. She took Tony's hand in hers, automatically rubbing a little warmth into the cool skin. "Perk up, Tony. I'll let you pick out Kate's accoutrements."
At least this got a smirk, even if a slightly wan one.
"You wouldn't dare," muttered Kate.
"I'm thinking -- riding crop and a spider whip." Abby kept Tony's hand in hers.
"How 'bout a studded spanker?" Tony added after a moment's thought.
"Oooo, good one," approved Abby, feeling the fingers in hers start to warm.
"One more word and I'm walking over there," proclaimed Kate, pointing to the other side of the car-less street.
"Gotta cross anyway," said Abby suddenly, heading them straight for an almost hidden black and blood-red alcove. "We don't find what we want here, there's a toy shop down the street."
"Toy shop?" frowned Kate, not too happy with the near pitch-black interior of the open door.
"Sex-toys, Kate." Tony's grin was a little stronger. "You know: your inflatable man and that little pump—"
Kate reached out and smacked him none-too-gently on the bicep.
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"I'm not putting that on."
"Trust me," said Abby, holding up a shiny PVC lace-up top. "You're going to look fabulous."
"I'm not putting that on," Kate declined again.
"I still like the rubber cop outfit," added Tony helpfully.
"Then we do the leather cat suit," said Abby. "No matter what it does to the bossman's credit card." She reluctantly put the top back on the rack. "Come on, back to the leather section. You can go try it on while Tony and I accessorize." She glanced down at Kate's sensible shoes. "What size shoe do you wear?"
Kate made her way back to the rack of cat suits. "Why does this not encourage me?"
Abby took down a size four and sighed at the price tag. "All good things must have a price," she repeated, stealing herself. She handed the $300 suit over. "Go forth and try on. Shoes?" she called after Kate, huffing when her query was ignored her. "Fine. We'll do the shoes last. Come on Tony." Abby gathered up her other wayward charge. "We gotta get you some Vic duds."
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"Perfect!" Abby nearly squealed, hauling a ruffled and laced, gauzy, white shirt down from the wall rack. "I had such a thing for Shelley as a kid. I mean, he died sailing the Don Juan. Like anything could be more romantic?"
"What is it with women that they get off on dead poets?"
"It's an ethereal thing." Abby quickly turned to her left and started rummaging through hangers of black pants. "Here," she handed over a pair of velvet jeans.
"I think I draw the line at velvet, Abs."
"Vampires are sensual creatures." Abby rubbed a hand up and down the nap of the cloth. "Touch is the most responsive sense." She pushed him toward the curtained changing rooms. "Go on. If you're out quick I'll let you help pick out the whip," she wheedled.
"You really should have had Gibbs down here," mused Tony through the thin cloth that served as the dressing rooms doors. "Now that would be something to see."
"I'd like to remain employed, Tony."
"Hey, I think he was a little hurt when you said he wouldn't fit in at the ball."
"Bossman? I don't think it would work but he would look delish in a cape, maybe thigh boots, let his hair grow out some. Oh yeah, it could be good." Abby considered this, still hanging outside DiNozzo's curtained alcove. "Kate?" She called up the line of curtains. "You coming out?"
"No."
"Okay, fine. Then I'm coming in. Stick your hand out so I know where to go."
To her surprise, three hands stuck out of the closed drapes. Fortunately the other two were male.
oOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOo
"Hey, I wanted to see," protested Tony, when Kate emerged back in her jeans and sweater, cat suit thrown over her arm.
"You see tonight, Tony," promised Abby. "And we've got accessorizing to do."
Kate fingered the lace at the collar of Tony's shirt. "My grandmother had a bedskirt just like that."
"Snarky, Kate," said Tony. "Just snarky."
"It's the truth," Kate protested. "I recognize that lace."
"Truce," Abby separated them. "Shoes are over there. That means heels, Kate. Heels. Tony go find some boots." She looked down at Tony's shoes as well. "Heels are good there, too."
"The spikier the better, DiNozzo," put in Kate.
In his retreat, he waved a dismissing palm toward them.
"Think our boy's feeling better," decided Abby. "I was a little worried."
oOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOo
"I feel just like Dr. Frankenstein. Or," considered Abby, "maybe Dr. Frank N Furter."
Gibbs looked up from the communal laptop and frowned slightly as Abby sang softly: In just seven days I can make you a man.
Ducky exchanged an amused gaze with her over Gibbs' head as she warbled the final note. "It's just a jump to the left," he said with a small, sly grin.
"If you two are planning to do the Time Warp," Gibbs typed a few more letters on the keyboard, "I'm leaving."
"Gibbs! You know your Horror? Maybe I was wrong about the whole uptight thing."
"You weren't wrong, Abs," Gibbs reassured. "Now, about your 'creations'..."
Abby rapped on the adjoining door. "You guys ready?"
The mumbling from inside the other room didn't sound too enthusiastic.
"Ta da!" crowed the lab tech, despite this, swinging the door back to reveal a somewhat bemused DiNozzo. Abby cut around him into the room. "Where's my dom?" Grabbing Kate's hand she pulled her into view and gave another "ta da!"
"This was not my idea," said Kate, tugging at the tight leather.
Gibbs tilted his head. "Where'd you put the gun?"
"I've got it, "assured Kate, doing her best not to squirm.
"Nice whip," observed Gibbs laconically.
"The spiked paddle was my idea," put in Tony, leaning a ruffled wrist the doorframe.
"You got a wire under there, too?" Gibbs inquired, looking her up and down with a technical eye.
"She's wired," Abby reassured. "Already tested. Tony, too."
Gibbs gaze moved down to the stiletto heels of Kate's boots. "Can you walk in those things?"
"Better than DiNozzo." Kate nodded down toward Tony's almost equally high stacked heels.
"So? Cool?" inquired an impatient Abby.
Gibbs held up his hands. "You're the expert."
"Well, I think they look gorgeous." She tweaked the lacing on Tony's shirt. "I mean who could resist that?"
"We hope not Seaman Lewis' killer," observed Gibbs, bringing the silliness to a halt. "We all on the same playbook?"
"We're good," said Abby. "Tony's supposed to meet Sergei by the front door and Goethe, later, in the brick courtyard." She did some final arranging of the belt circling low on Tony's hips. "Sergei is going to be wearing a red cape and Goethe says he's a got a scalp tatt – an ankh. Shouldn't be too many of those. We'll be in the van. Kate will be roaming the halls with her whip. Should be everything we need."
"Then let's go," Gibbs ushered Abby and Tony out the door, but his hand held Kate back. Ducky shrugged past them into the hall, while Kate looked at him quizzically, finding herself nearly at eye-level with Gibbs thanks to the spiked heels of the boots.
"I want you to keep an eye on DiNozzo."
Kate frowned at the worry she saw in the blue eyes. "Something wrong?"
Uncharacteristically Gibbs tilted his head back, breathing deeply, finding something apparently fascinating about the hotel's ceiling. "You ever get these ... feelings? Like something's about to go wrong – you just don't know what it is?"
"No." Kate shook her head. "Not really."
"Me either," said Gibbs. "But I've got one now."
Kate found herself looking toward the hallway and she lowered her voice. "So, how do you know it's DiNozzo and not one of the rest of us?"
"I don't," Gibbs admitted. "But he's the one in the spotlight tonight. So..."
"I'll watch him." Kate assured him, stepping back and stumbling, her ankle turning. Gibbs hand bit hard under her arm, holding her up. "Just hope I don't have to run," she mumbled, straightening.
oOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOo
Hard, slashing guitar licks resounded off the flat black walls and the press of bodies reminded Kate of nothing so much as a mosh pit. A nineteenth-century mosh pit of black ball gowns and walking sticks, the vintage feel only broken by the occasional shine of black PVC. Conversational shouts of recognition broke through the din. By bodyslamming her way out – something apparently expected from her costume, the rudeness being met with knowing smiles -- she managed to settle near the bar beside a sign offering appropriately-named drinks: The Necrophile, The Autoerotic Asphyxiation.
She surveyed the lay of the room, the party taking up what were originally two or three old Creole townhouses, darkened rooms branching off to lead into even more darkened rooms. At least Tony was easy to spot in the gloomy masses: the white shirt standing out like a beacon, his light brown hair looking almost blond among the dyed tresses.
He dipped his head to answer some question and Kate strained to see his conversational partner – a petite Goth in a flowing medieval dress. Then another black-clad body blocked her view. A metallic tapping on the bar drew her distracted attention. She followed the silver claw-tipped finger up to the ruby red cabochon coiled in the odd piece's metal threads then to a solid wrist banded by delicate lace.
"It is a good night for prey." As far as accents went, Kate had heard better, but his smile was disarming. The silver finger moved to thread through the leather strands of the whip. "Both the kinds we seek."
Kate managed to cover her gulp with a toss of her hair. "And what kind do you seek?"
He laid a ten on the bartop, a pedestrian motion except for the tap of the sharpened silver point, and received a glass of merlot in return. "Why the kind that seek me." He lifted the clawed finger, watching Kate's eyes move with the motion. "You should get one. It would add to your..." he lifted the braided strands again, "...pleasure."
Then with a practiced turn, one that swirled the black cape he wore, he was gone.
And, Kate realized, scanning the room again – so was Tony.
Which a succinctly whispered "fuck," Kate pushed her way back through the entranceway crowd.
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Tony looked longingly at the hurricane glass full of light rum, contreau and cream his latest fanged admirer was waving in his face with drunken aplomb. With the heat of heavily clothed bodies making the tiled foyer cloyingly warm, he felt ... drained. Without anybody taking so much as a nibble at his neck, he already felt desiccated.
"That is not the appropriate aphrodisiac. You can do much better." The voice in his ear was sinuous, lilting, and, unlike that of his drink-bearing admirer, very, very male. That he'd jumped like a startled McGee only added, Tony reassured himself, to his virginal performance.
"Sergei?" Tony forced his lips to curve into a smile.
"Quite a beautiful neck."
"Um, yeah," Tony found his hand moving of its own accord, upward, toward his carotid. He fisted it, bringing it down to his waist.
A strong grip circled his clenched hand. "Come."
Trusting Kate had his six, he went.
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"He's with Sergei," reported Gibbs, his hand moving to steady the earpiece against his ear. He glanced at Abby. "Tell me Kate's got them."
"Uh," Abby bent her head trying to make out the individual words against the white noise of the house band. "The receiver keeps cutting in and out."
One-handed, Gibbs spun the black box around, "I thought you switched them."
"I did. There could be something in the area that's interfering with the wavelength." She thumped at the plastic casing. "Kate's talking to someone. I can't make out exactly what she's saying."
"Does she have him or doesn't she?" snapped Gibbs.
A distinctly muttered "fuck" rang clearly through the earpiece.
"I'd say," Abby swallowed uncomfortably, "that's a 'no,' Gibbs."
(tbc)
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