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Fic: Little Black Dress
Title: Little Black Dress
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Adora, Wyatt, DeMilo and two OCs
Rating: high-PG (for Wyatt Cain's language)
Summary: While on a routine investigation, drastic measures need to be taken to get to the evidence... even if that means putting a Tin Man in a dress...
Warning: pre-series, Tin Man!Adora 'verse. *Written for Round 27 of prompt-in-a-box. Prompt #6: "I wouldn't say I invented tacky, but I definitely brought it to its present high popularity." (Bette Midler); and inspired by Prompt 007 at team_demilo. I blame Bad Horse, bizarra and THIS photo of Faith Hill.
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
What is This Feeling? | Perfect | Every Little Trait, However Small | Special Delivery | Friday Night Dinner | Intimidation | Saturday | Shoes, Hair and Spoons... Oh My! | Frozen Reflections | When in Central City, Part I | When in Central City, Part II | Little Black Dress | Relocation | Lost Boy
"Well," Adora shrugged as they peeked around the corner, "the man did say 'tacky'." Wyatt raised an eyebrow and took another look at the truck. It definitely stood out on the street.
"Just because the guy says this is our guy," Porter started, glancing over Wyatt's shoulder.
"We've got no cause to search," Wyatt huffed. Glancing back, he noticed Adora was looking behind them at a shop window. "What, you're shopping now?"
Adora glared at him and glanced back to the truck. "I have an idea..." She pointed to the truck and stepped toward the store. "Don't let him leave." Wyatt and Porter gave each other a look and shrugged before continuing surveillance on the garish van.
Adora stepped into the shop and moved to the counter, looking at the various dresses hanging amongst the racks. "Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asked, giving Adora a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, please. I need your help." Pointing back to a black dress, Adora returned the man's look. "I need to borrow that." She quickly unpinned her Tin Man badge and set it on the counter. He raised an eyebrow and she nodded. "I'll return it, as soon as possible, even cleaned. It's a second-hand store, yes, so it won't cost you a sale."
The man eyed her again. "You chasing some criminal?"
"Trying to, yes," she nodded.
"Spy work?" he asked, a slight glint in his eye. Adora simply nodded once. The man pointed at her. "You'll need shoes."
Making quick work of changing, Adora glanced in the small mirror of the tinier bathroom and winced. She felt bad enough, bribing the man out of his own goods, but, now, she was considering going through his personal belongings.
'Hell, I'll buy him a whole new can if this works.' She opened the drawer and prayed that this man also kept his shoe polish in the same place as her father. Finding it, Adora looked back in the mirror and realized she had another problem - her hair. Flipping the water on in the sink, she tossed the shoe polish on the counter and leaned toward the water.
Stepping out of the small bathroom a moment later, Adora gave the older man a frown at his look. He was looking at the 'bruise' on her cheek as he held up a pair of shoes. "Nothing in your size, I'm afraid." He gave another look at her blackened cheek. "Your shiner has a bit too much shine, love."
Adora smiled and nodded. "Well, hopefully, it's dark enough out there, no one will notice." She gave him another nod and he pointed to a chair. "Oh, I'm not going to wear them." Smiling, Adora took a deep breath and nodded to the door. "This go out back?"
"Sure does. You sure you want to go without the shoes, love? It's not the cleanest alley in the District..." Adora gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and nodded.
"I'm sure." Straightening, Adora held her hands up and shrugged. "Do I look distressed?"
"Might want some tears," he offered.
Adora smiled. "You, sir, I like."
He opened the door and she ducked out, skirt in one hand and shoes in the other. Wincing as she moved down the alley, Adora told herself it was just Guild mud. Reaching the corner, she took another look toward the truck and sucked in a breath. 'You can do this, Springer.' Nodding, Adora tightened her hold on the shoes and skirt and broke into a run.
She neared the squirmy man standing alongside the truck and nearly fell into him. "Oh, please help me," she gasped through tears. "He's going to kill me." Throwing a glance over her shoulder, as if she was looking for someone, Adora turned back. "Please," she begged, staring at the man. Diving around him, Adora caught sight of Porter and Wyatt and gave them a hold signal.
"Damn," Porter said as the woman came tearing toward their target. Wyatt frowned and watched the blonde in the very low-cut dress speak frantically to the man. As she moved behind him, Wyatt caught sight of a lot of leg... and one of their signals.
"Son of a bitch," he breathed.
"All right, doll, just..." DeMilo huffed and glanced at his truck. He had to get to the drop, but the woman was pulling at his heartstrings. And, his ma would never forgive him for not helping a dame in distress. Nodding to the truck, he pulled the door open and ushered Adora in.
"I'll be a Guild Fighter's dinner," Porter breathed as he watched Adora step into the truck. "How did she do that?" Looking at Wyatt, all Porter got was a shrug. "Well, how long do we wait?" Wyatt shrugged again and waved for Porter to follow him. "We stop him from making the drop, we won't catch the guy," Porter frowned.
"And, if we don't stop him, we'll lose the painting," Wyatt replied. The two Tin Men moved toward DeMilo and both men noticed his twitch.
Inside the truck, Adora was trying to not react to the smell, the colors or the feeling of the carpeting on the floor of the truck. Pulling the edge of the skirt aside, Adora reached to the back of her shorts and said a silent thanks that she hadn't lost the gloves during her run. Pulling them on, she quickly started searching for the painting.
They knew the squirrely man wasn’t responsible for stealing the painting - that man was in custody - but they knew he'd received it. Technically, what she was doing wasn't protocol, but they needed to get the painting back and, even if she was disciplined, the painting would be returned to its rightful owner.
"Ah," she whispered and pulled the painting up from its hiding place. Adora gave it a lookover - 'Looks like it's in one piece...' - and jumped at the sound of voices outside. It only took another moment for her to realize it was Cain and Porter.
DeMilo backed against the truck as Wyatt and Porter crowded him. "Hear you've been dealin' with some unsavory people," Wyatt accused.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, so step off," DeMilo countered.
"Nicky said he stopped to see you earlier," Porter said. "Dropped off a certain something for you to hold on to."
DeMilo shook his head. "I don't know no Nicky and he didn't give me no artwork, so just-"
"Did you mention artwork, Port?" Wyatt asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope, I sure didn't," Porter replied, giving DeMilo a look.
DeMilo went limp and smacked his head against the truck as Wyatt held him up. "Who are you supposed to give it to?"
"I don't have anything!" DeMilo nearly shrieked.
"Really?" Adora asked, leaning out of the door, holding the painting with one glove. DeMilo looked at her and Adora gave a look to both Wyatt and Porter, reminding them that they were in the middle of an investigation by nodding to DeMilo.
"Who were you supposed to deliver it to?" Wyatt asked again, once he'd managed to pick his jaw up off the sidewalk.
"I don't know. A guy!" DeMilo continued to shriek quietly. He knew no one in this part of town would be coming to his rescue. Porter reached behind Wyatt and caught the other glove from Adora before he took the painting from her.
"Where were you supposed to meet 'this guy'?" Adora asked, pushing Wyatt back and facing DeMilo.
"What's it to you, doll? Workin' me over get you out of a deal with these yahoos?"
Adora raised an eyebrow. "I am one of these 'yahoos', actually," she replied, shoving him against the truck with a submission hold. "Make this easy on yourself... what is your name, anyway?"
"DeMilo," he told her, offering his hand. "Antoine DeMilo." It took another second for him to realize what he'd just done and DeMilo winced again.
"Well, Antoine," Adora said sweetly, "I'll make you a deal. You tell us where you were headed with this pretty little thing..." she shrugged, "and we forget we ever saw you." Adora raised an eyebrow and kept her eyes on him, even when he looked at Wyatt and Porter.
"Would save us paperwork," Porter nodded, giving Wyatt's arm a nudge.
"But, that would be breaking the law," Wyatt replied with false concern.
"Oh, I think we could let this one slide," Adora said slowly, running a finger along DeMilo's jaw. "A favor," she added, half-stating and half-questioning.
DeMilo shook his head. "I ain't no Tin Snitch."
Adora frowned and shook her head. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Antoine," she said sadly. "You do me this favor and, one of these days... you need a favor. Even trade," she shrugged. It was taking everything she had not to react to the dropping temperature. Between the lack of fabric of her dress, her wet hair and her bare feet, Lieutenant Adora Springer was bound for a week in the Infirmary.
DeMilo gave all three of them a look and glanced back to Adora. "I never had any artwork? And you got no location from me?" he added as she shook her head.
"You don't rat us out, we don't rat you out."
DeMilo sneered. "How can I trust you? You're clearly lyin'," he said, nodding to her person.
"On my badge," Adora nodded.
"You ain't wearin' a badge," DeMilo scoffed.
Wyatt pulled his badge off and held it out over Adora's shoulder. "On mine, then." He gave Adora a nod as she looked back at him. DeMilo gave both of them a look and nodded. Wyatt returned his badge to his jacket and Adora loosened her hold on DeMilo.
"All right, I was supposed to meet this fella over three streets. Green Mountain brew, was supposed to be my order at the bar. He'd find me and I'd trade the merchandise. All I know, on my mother's life!" DeMilo said, his pitch rising again.
"Shouldn't ever swear on your mother, DeMilo," Wyatt said with a huff. "Not very respectful to her."
"You never met Ma," DeMilo snapped back.
Adora reached up and patted DeMilo's cheek, getting his attention back. "When?"
"Hour or so," DeMilo shrugged. "Less now, since I was bein' a gentleman and hidin' a sneaky dame. 's a nice dress. You get that from-" he started, jerking a roaming hand back as a sharp pain shot up his arm. "Sorry! I'm sorry. Won't happen again," he rattled off as Adora slowly let go of the pressure point in his hand. "Deal's still on, yeah? You'll forget that little-" he asked, giving a nod to where his hand had just been.
"Looked like assaulting an officer to me," Porter shrugged.
Adora was still watching DeMilo, and could see he was sweating. “No, it's fine," she said slowly, noting a definite relaxing of his whole body. "We got what we need. And," she raised an eyebrow and reached for his jaw again, "if he's lying, or they know we're coming... we know where to find him." She patted his cheek twice and stepped back.
DeMilo threw his hands up in defeat and backed toward the front of the truck. "Y'know, I do believe Ma is ready to be picked up from her card game." Adora gave him a smile and nodded until he climbed into the truck, started it and pulled away.
Turning back to Porter and Wyatt, she rolled her eyes. At their stares, Adora locked her jaw and crossed her arms. "You done?" Both men blinked and shifted into action. Adora rolled her eyes again and hiked up her skirt. "You gonna call this one in? Or do I have to do everything?"
Porter held the painting out for her to take then shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. "You recovered the stolen goods and got the contact. I'd say it's yours."
"Have to admit, Springer," Wyatt said with a bite, "that was some quick thinkin'."
"For a girl?" Adora offered.
"Well, I just don't think Port, here, has the shoulders for this," he said, motioning to the dress.
"Better shoulders than you," Porter countered. "But, seriously, 'dor, that was pretty amazing," he added, nodding back to where the truck had been.
"Well," Adora shrugged, "they always say 'think outside the box'. Sometimes, you just need to think inside the District."
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Adora, Wyatt, DeMilo and two OCs
Rating: high-PG (for Wyatt Cain's language)
Summary: While on a routine investigation, drastic measures need to be taken to get to the evidence... even if that means putting a Tin Man in a dress...
Warning: pre-series, Tin Man!Adora 'verse. *Written for Round 27 of prompt-in-a-box. Prompt #6: "I wouldn't say I invented tacky, but I definitely brought it to its present high popularity." (Bette Midler); and inspired by Prompt 007 at team_demilo. I blame Bad Horse, bizarra and THIS photo of Faith Hill.
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
What is This Feeling? | Perfect | Every Little Trait, However Small | Special Delivery | Friday Night Dinner | Intimidation | Saturday | Shoes, Hair and Spoons... Oh My! | Frozen Reflections | When in Central City, Part I | When in Central City, Part II | Little Black Dress | Relocation | Lost Boy
"Well," Adora shrugged as they peeked around the corner, "the man did say 'tacky'." Wyatt raised an eyebrow and took another look at the truck. It definitely stood out on the street.
"Just because the guy says this is our guy," Porter started, glancing over Wyatt's shoulder.
"We've got no cause to search," Wyatt huffed. Glancing back, he noticed Adora was looking behind them at a shop window. "What, you're shopping now?"
Adora glared at him and glanced back to the truck. "I have an idea..." She pointed to the truck and stepped toward the store. "Don't let him leave." Wyatt and Porter gave each other a look and shrugged before continuing surveillance on the garish van.
Adora stepped into the shop and moved to the counter, looking at the various dresses hanging amongst the racks. "Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asked, giving Adora a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, please. I need your help." Pointing back to a black dress, Adora returned the man's look. "I need to borrow that." She quickly unpinned her Tin Man badge and set it on the counter. He raised an eyebrow and she nodded. "I'll return it, as soon as possible, even cleaned. It's a second-hand store, yes, so it won't cost you a sale."
The man eyed her again. "You chasing some criminal?"
"Trying to, yes," she nodded.
"Spy work?" he asked, a slight glint in his eye. Adora simply nodded once. The man pointed at her. "You'll need shoes."
Making quick work of changing, Adora glanced in the small mirror of the tinier bathroom and winced. She felt bad enough, bribing the man out of his own goods, but, now, she was considering going through his personal belongings.
'Hell, I'll buy him a whole new can if this works.' She opened the drawer and prayed that this man also kept his shoe polish in the same place as her father. Finding it, Adora looked back in the mirror and realized she had another problem - her hair. Flipping the water on in the sink, she tossed the shoe polish on the counter and leaned toward the water.
Stepping out of the small bathroom a moment later, Adora gave the older man a frown at his look. He was looking at the 'bruise' on her cheek as he held up a pair of shoes. "Nothing in your size, I'm afraid." He gave another look at her blackened cheek. "Your shiner has a bit too much shine, love."
Adora smiled and nodded. "Well, hopefully, it's dark enough out there, no one will notice." She gave him another nod and he pointed to a chair. "Oh, I'm not going to wear them." Smiling, Adora took a deep breath and nodded to the door. "This go out back?"
"Sure does. You sure you want to go without the shoes, love? It's not the cleanest alley in the District..." Adora gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and nodded.
"I'm sure." Straightening, Adora held her hands up and shrugged. "Do I look distressed?"
"Might want some tears," he offered.
Adora smiled. "You, sir, I like."
He opened the door and she ducked out, skirt in one hand and shoes in the other. Wincing as she moved down the alley, Adora told herself it was just Guild mud. Reaching the corner, she took another look toward the truck and sucked in a breath. 'You can do this, Springer.' Nodding, Adora tightened her hold on the shoes and skirt and broke into a run.
She neared the squirmy man standing alongside the truck and nearly fell into him. "Oh, please help me," she gasped through tears. "He's going to kill me." Throwing a glance over her shoulder, as if she was looking for someone, Adora turned back. "Please," she begged, staring at the man. Diving around him, Adora caught sight of Porter and Wyatt and gave them a hold signal.
"Damn," Porter said as the woman came tearing toward their target. Wyatt frowned and watched the blonde in the very low-cut dress speak frantically to the man. As she moved behind him, Wyatt caught sight of a lot of leg... and one of their signals.
"Son of a bitch," he breathed.
"All right, doll, just..." DeMilo huffed and glanced at his truck. He had to get to the drop, but the woman was pulling at his heartstrings. And, his ma would never forgive him for not helping a dame in distress. Nodding to the truck, he pulled the door open and ushered Adora in.
"I'll be a Guild Fighter's dinner," Porter breathed as he watched Adora step into the truck. "How did she do that?" Looking at Wyatt, all Porter got was a shrug. "Well, how long do we wait?" Wyatt shrugged again and waved for Porter to follow him. "We stop him from making the drop, we won't catch the guy," Porter frowned.
"And, if we don't stop him, we'll lose the painting," Wyatt replied. The two Tin Men moved toward DeMilo and both men noticed his twitch.
Inside the truck, Adora was trying to not react to the smell, the colors or the feeling of the carpeting on the floor of the truck. Pulling the edge of the skirt aside, Adora reached to the back of her shorts and said a silent thanks that she hadn't lost the gloves during her run. Pulling them on, she quickly started searching for the painting.
They knew the squirrely man wasn’t responsible for stealing the painting - that man was in custody - but they knew he'd received it. Technically, what she was doing wasn't protocol, but they needed to get the painting back and, even if she was disciplined, the painting would be returned to its rightful owner.
"Ah," she whispered and pulled the painting up from its hiding place. Adora gave it a lookover - 'Looks like it's in one piece...' - and jumped at the sound of voices outside. It only took another moment for her to realize it was Cain and Porter.
DeMilo backed against the truck as Wyatt and Porter crowded him. "Hear you've been dealin' with some unsavory people," Wyatt accused.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, so step off," DeMilo countered.
"Nicky said he stopped to see you earlier," Porter said. "Dropped off a certain something for you to hold on to."
DeMilo shook his head. "I don't know no Nicky and he didn't give me no artwork, so just-"
"Did you mention artwork, Port?" Wyatt asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope, I sure didn't," Porter replied, giving DeMilo a look.
DeMilo went limp and smacked his head against the truck as Wyatt held him up. "Who are you supposed to give it to?"
"I don't have anything!" DeMilo nearly shrieked.
"Really?" Adora asked, leaning out of the door, holding the painting with one glove. DeMilo looked at her and Adora gave a look to both Wyatt and Porter, reminding them that they were in the middle of an investigation by nodding to DeMilo.
"Who were you supposed to deliver it to?" Wyatt asked again, once he'd managed to pick his jaw up off the sidewalk.
"I don't know. A guy!" DeMilo continued to shriek quietly. He knew no one in this part of town would be coming to his rescue. Porter reached behind Wyatt and caught the other glove from Adora before he took the painting from her.
"Where were you supposed to meet 'this guy'?" Adora asked, pushing Wyatt back and facing DeMilo.
"What's it to you, doll? Workin' me over get you out of a deal with these yahoos?"
Adora raised an eyebrow. "I am one of these 'yahoos', actually," she replied, shoving him against the truck with a submission hold. "Make this easy on yourself... what is your name, anyway?"
"DeMilo," he told her, offering his hand. "Antoine DeMilo." It took another second for him to realize what he'd just done and DeMilo winced again.
"Well, Antoine," Adora said sweetly, "I'll make you a deal. You tell us where you were headed with this pretty little thing..." she shrugged, "and we forget we ever saw you." Adora raised an eyebrow and kept her eyes on him, even when he looked at Wyatt and Porter.
"Would save us paperwork," Porter nodded, giving Wyatt's arm a nudge.
"But, that would be breaking the law," Wyatt replied with false concern.
"Oh, I think we could let this one slide," Adora said slowly, running a finger along DeMilo's jaw. "A favor," she added, half-stating and half-questioning.
DeMilo shook his head. "I ain't no Tin Snitch."
Adora frowned and shook her head. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Antoine," she said sadly. "You do me this favor and, one of these days... you need a favor. Even trade," she shrugged. It was taking everything she had not to react to the dropping temperature. Between the lack of fabric of her dress, her wet hair and her bare feet, Lieutenant Adora Springer was bound for a week in the Infirmary.
DeMilo gave all three of them a look and glanced back to Adora. "I never had any artwork? And you got no location from me?" he added as she shook her head.
"You don't rat us out, we don't rat you out."
DeMilo sneered. "How can I trust you? You're clearly lyin'," he said, nodding to her person.
"On my badge," Adora nodded.
"You ain't wearin' a badge," DeMilo scoffed.
Wyatt pulled his badge off and held it out over Adora's shoulder. "On mine, then." He gave Adora a nod as she looked back at him. DeMilo gave both of them a look and nodded. Wyatt returned his badge to his jacket and Adora loosened her hold on DeMilo.
"All right, I was supposed to meet this fella over three streets. Green Mountain brew, was supposed to be my order at the bar. He'd find me and I'd trade the merchandise. All I know, on my mother's life!" DeMilo said, his pitch rising again.
"Shouldn't ever swear on your mother, DeMilo," Wyatt said with a huff. "Not very respectful to her."
"You never met Ma," DeMilo snapped back.
Adora reached up and patted DeMilo's cheek, getting his attention back. "When?"
"Hour or so," DeMilo shrugged. "Less now, since I was bein' a gentleman and hidin' a sneaky dame. 's a nice dress. You get that from-" he started, jerking a roaming hand back as a sharp pain shot up his arm. "Sorry! I'm sorry. Won't happen again," he rattled off as Adora slowly let go of the pressure point in his hand. "Deal's still on, yeah? You'll forget that little-" he asked, giving a nod to where his hand had just been.
"Looked like assaulting an officer to me," Porter shrugged.
Adora was still watching DeMilo, and could see he was sweating. “No, it's fine," she said slowly, noting a definite relaxing of his whole body. "We got what we need. And," she raised an eyebrow and reached for his jaw again, "if he's lying, or they know we're coming... we know where to find him." She patted his cheek twice and stepped back.
DeMilo threw his hands up in defeat and backed toward the front of the truck. "Y'know, I do believe Ma is ready to be picked up from her card game." Adora gave him a smile and nodded until he climbed into the truck, started it and pulled away.
Turning back to Porter and Wyatt, she rolled her eyes. At their stares, Adora locked her jaw and crossed her arms. "You done?" Both men blinked and shifted into action. Adora rolled her eyes again and hiked up her skirt. "You gonna call this one in? Or do I have to do everything?"
Porter held the painting out for her to take then shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. "You recovered the stolen goods and got the contact. I'd say it's yours."
"Have to admit, Springer," Wyatt said with a bite, "that was some quick thinkin'."
"For a girl?" Adora offered.
"Well, I just don't think Port, here, has the shoulders for this," he said, motioning to the dress.
"Better shoulders than you," Porter countered. "But, seriously, 'dor, that was pretty amazing," he added, nodding back to where the truck had been.
"Well," Adora shrugged, "they always say 'think outside the box'. Sometimes, you just need to think inside the District."