Disclaimer: I do not own Codename Kids Next Door.

With another random whoosh of the wind, followed by a clatter of the teeth, Rachel firmly swore to herself that she would never take costume suggestions from Numbuh 3, ever again.

Standing under a glowing lamp post was one lone Rachel McKenzie. The dirt blonde adolescent stood shivering slightly as the low Fall temperature mocked her for her choice in thin apparel. The teen spy wore a dark, skin-tight suit that was reminiscent of what she normally wore on the job. Violet, plastic armor plates covered her abdomen, elbows, knees, and shoulders respectively. At her hip was a prop one-handed sword, with an oversized boomerang Numbuh 4 had supplied securely strapped to her back to complete the character. But all this equipment did nothing to keep her warm.

She should have just worn her espionage gear; it had built in environmental protection. Or even pay heed to her mother's warnings concerning the weather. But no, she wanted to be festive this year.

A small gaggle of youthful trick-or-treaters passed by her without care, and she couldn't help the small glare that erupted forth. Stupid six-years taunting her with their large puffy outfits; the breeze not even fazing them while it left chilling goosebumps on her exposed neck. Why did the darn woman she was masquerading as have to have a high ponytail? Honestly. It was just an endless night of frustrations.

But one of the main sources of frustrations came from one irritatingly suave, late Brit named Nigel Uno. Her date to the TND Basement Ball who had decided to take his sweet time and show up fashionably late. Leaving her to suffer the woes of frostbite in this godforsaken, curvy, skin-tight costume. Did she mention that he was late? Cause he was.

It was just so unfathomable. The one mystery she was certain that would have Sherlock Holmes pacing around in circles for his entire fictional life. Rachel just couldn't understand how someone who's work ethic was only second to her own could be so tardy. And only to something personal to boot! Completely different story when a mission was involved.

"When I wanna go see a new movie, you show up when it's over and we're forced to sit through Vampires Suck. Yet when I need you for a stakeout, you're already there with camp set up!" The blonde angrily muttered to herself. Her glittering hazel pupils trailed upwards, and she became lost in memory. Then suddenly, her cheeks tinted over ever so slightly as her mind wandered off to how those stakeouts usually ended. Suddenly she didn't feel so cold anymore.

Rachel violently shook her head to rid herself of more private thoughts. Finally she settled back into her indignant stare and remembered why she was so cross with the bald teen. He was late and she was paying for it. Even Lizzie's advice to wait thirty minutes then leave her house didn't help any tonight. But what could be taking him so long? Before her phone went dead he said he was putting the finishing touches on his costume. Nothing else was said other then she was in for a big surprise.

So that was the case, eh? Well, if he didn't show up in the next five seconds, she was going to surprise him by shoving her foot up his–

"Yeah, baby, yeah!"

Rachel snapped her cold snarl to the corner. Hopefully towards the owner of the voice. That sounded like Nigel, well five seconds or not, he was about to get a piece of her – The blonde's face blanched, her brows retreated to her hairline, and she was pretty sure her jaw had found home on the pavement. "What. The. Hell?"

The sight that had stunned the poor teen into silence was the other teen making his way down the street. It was Nigel, in full swing with his choice Halloween getup. The bald teen couldn't be called as such this night since he wore a combed back wig of chocolate tint. His normal sunglasses had been replaced with framed eyeglasses that brought out the sparks within his coal gaze. The Brit strutted down the street like he owned it. He took pride in the straight creases within his maroon velvet suit, and how his beatle boots clacked with every step he took. Not to mention the dashing, cocky smirk that seemed omnipresent.

Rachel openly gawked as the operative drew nearer. Just when she thought things couldn't get anymore funkier, she had to hold herself from falling over in shock when Nigel spun on his heel, and moon walked the rest of the way towards her. She could only watch on as a stupefied witness to the male's outrageous display.

"N-Nigel?" Rachel meekly uttered as he came into her view, stopping and spinning one last time before fully facing her. The blonde's shocked expression never left, and she gulped at his smirk and roaming eyes. "Are you…feeling alright?" Perhaps he fell down the stairs of his Sector's old treehouse and suffered some head injury that caused him to act this way.

Nigel's smirk only grew wider as he took a step closer. "Alright? I feel shagadelic, baby!" He proclaimed, his British accent being stressed even more from some odd reason. Rachel blinked as her cheeks became redder. Yeah, fell out of a Treehouse window.

That had to be it.

"Don't keep me anticipating, lovely! You ready to go out on the town and swing?"

The blonde snapped back into the present time and nearly yelped when she noticed how much closer the Brit had gotten. Her eyes flicked over his form nervously before she grinned sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. I guess I'm ready to go…if that's what you meant." Why did she get the feeling 'swing' wasn't so innocent as it sounded?

"Groovy." Nigel slurred out. But before they could leave his arm reached out and his hand found home against the lamp post, and next to Rachel's head. The boy leaned in closer to the girl, chuckling as she clamped up. Oh she was going to kill him for this later, but the look on the stone cold 362's face was worth it. His fingers grasped the edges of his glasses; lowering them to reveal his heated gaze. "But there's something I gotta know first."

Rachel's face was far from pale at this point. If this was some sort of joke…oh hell, she knew it was a joke and she had fallen for it hook line and sinker. "W-What's that?"

"Be honest," Nigel chuckled. "Do I make you horny, baby? Do I? Do I make you randy?"

The following day, Abby could only sit back and guess Nigel's situation. She would've thought that black eye would be feeling pretty sore, but his goofy, face splitting grin said otherwise…

I did this during my vaca- Planning period, lost it, and rewrote it when a friend reminded me of it! Ha ha!

Later, baby!