caveofsapphires | you've got to lose inhibition

Entry tags:

you've got to lose inhibition

WHO: Gabriel (Sylvester Wilton), Balthazar (Alexander Wilton), Aziraphale (John Gates); [OPEN]
WHAT: A family outing. Of sorts.
WHERE: At the bar to start with, but potentially anywhere else over the course of the night too. Use Gabriel and randomness as an excuse whenever necessary.
WHEN: Evening of Thursday 26 April 2012
NOTES: Sort-of party-post! The three angels will be together for at least the beginning, and at the bar, but they will be going elsewhere and available for interactions by everyone else too. Go ahead and let us know in the subject line if you'd like any of them individually/in pairs.
Keep to posting order, but initial order is open regarding whomever happens to tag first.

Now that Gabriel had two of his brothers in the Cave with him, there was only one thing left to do: Family Outing. Heaven was far from conducive regarding family outings, especially after the Fall, and since his time on Earth there was a never-acknowledged part of the archangel that sort-of wanted to try it.

Just spending time with family. Too much to ask with his, apparently, but now they were all three of them stuck in the Cave together, why the Hell not? At least he could always play it off as just trying to be annoying.

Which was why he turned up at Balthazar and Aziraphale's doors with a makeshift party-hat, jolly and cheerful and not listening at all to any of their objections. The only real concession he made to the Cave's rules was to tell Aziraphale that of course he was family, he was adopted because of Dream similarities and therefore he still didn't have a choice in the matter.

And then he dragged them toward the bar.

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When he'd opened the door to Gabriel and a truly unfortunate party hat, John had given in with a minimum of protest. Blurry as things were at the moment, he knew a lost cause when he saw one, and arguing with this man certainly fell into that category.

He wanted to disagree about 'being family' but he wasn't entirely sure how to explain his objections, or whether it was because of their alternate - universe - thing - what was it? - or because the Dream had slid back into prominence. Once again, he decided to keep quiet. It was probably best to go with the flow.

Regardless, it was a decidedly vague and extra off-balance ex-angel who followed Gabriel and Balthazar to the bar. The thing he was most certain of was his very strong need for a drink. He wondered if he should be worried about this as a recurring theme in his life.

There were few things Balthazar regretted in his (very, very, very, very) long life, but he supposed letting Gabriel, of all (angels) people, know he was around and okay was probably pretty regrettable. This opinion solidified itself into fact the moment the prankster had showed up at his place with a party hat on. Yes, that was all the proof he needed.

He had followed simply because he hadn't had alcohol in quite a while and now was the best time of any to desperately want some. At least, that was what he told himself (and it was 98.9999% true), but he knew he was partially tired of being alone. The fact that the supposed-other-angel was coming with them also made things interesting.

So here they were. Father help him.

Of the three, Gabriel was the happiest and, apparently, the one least in need of a drink. Getting drunk had been fun the first couple of times, and probably would be on this occasion too, but it struck him as contradictory to make sure he was going to lose his faculties in order to have fun. He'd been a trickster, okay. A trickster did not need to get drunk to have fun; it was the principle of the thing.

Therefore, he intended to drink only so much tonight. And encourage his brothers to drink a lot more. After all, what could be more fun than watching family make fools of themselves in a benign fashion?

He pushed open the door to the bar with a flourish and sauntered in. "And heeeeere we are!" Then he spun around with a clap, eyeing each of his brothers as if to make sure their dress was appropriate (or that they were even there and hadn't run off while his back was turned). He snapped his fingers with a sigh. "And here I forgot to tell you costumes were required. Fortunately, I thought ahead."

So saying, he produced another couple of makeshift party-hats and slung his arm around Balthazar's shoulders, fully intending on putting it on the younger angel himself. (He picked Balthazar first because apparently Azzy was tired (? it had better have been tiredness) enough that Gabriel figured he'd be able to catch him more easily afterward.)

John winced a bit at what he supposed he should be used to as typical behavior from Gabriel, even after just the one encounter - the wide gestures, the dramatic entrances, the volume - but he certainly didn't run. He felt a certain measure of safety in Gabriel's presence, a very specific kind of safety that did not by any means include preservation of his dignity, which he put down to a combination of his Dream and the confusion of their previous encounter.

Nevertheless, he decidedly did not feel secure about those party hats. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest, hoping that it would suffice for a 'no thank you I'm fine not looking like an idiot tonight' gesture. With Gabriel, this was almost certainly false hope.

"Why is it that you can't simply share a drink with your family like a normal brother, Sylvester?" Balthazar had always been somewhat cranky, but he knew that if Gabriel so much as touched his head with that hat, he might have to do something utterly dreadful with it. It wouldn't be violent, not necessarily, but it still might hurt.

He turned to the unfortunate fellow who had followed them all the way here, expression neutral, but the slightest of quirks touching the corners of his lips. "Now would be a good time to run, if you are so inclined."

"Since when have I ever been a normal brother and what fun is that?" Gabriel said with a snort. He snapped his fingers at Aziraphale. "Don't you go anywhere, adopted-sibling-of-mine. You're going to hate it if I have to run you down."

He'd have to think up an appropriate punishment, but still, Azzy was gonna hate it, whatever he came up with. With quick movements he put the hat on Balthazar's head and moved to snap the elastic around his chin. Sure, they were only going to take them off afterward, but at least he could maybe claim he'd gotten them on.)

John had no intention whatsoever of running. After all, where would he run to? His flat? He supposed that a bit of embarrassment was worth the company; he'd felt so lonely the last couple of days. In any case, he could just take the hat off once Gabriel had put it on his head.

Glancing at the other one - the brother - John's brow furrowed. "Oh . . . it's not so bad," he said, not looking quite convinced. "And I doubt that I could outrun him in any case." A life of reshelving had not prepared him for flight, he had to admit.

"Yes, well, it's your liver's funeral." Speaking of which, this was a brilliant time to finally gauge the strength of this body's--his--tolerance. It was true he drank alcohol like it was water, but that had been when he still had Grace, and thus an automatic filtering system. Now that he was human(ish), he wasn't entirely sure how much his meat suit could take. It would be an interesting experiment, to say the least, although he figured the has-been who had inhabited this body before him drank enough for three people.

But before that, he saw to the matter of that ridiculous hat. Which he promptly took off, detached the elastic band, and then snapped it straight at Gabriel.

The archangel had turned away to approach Aziraphale, but his hand darted up and the band snapped against his palm and dropped to the floor. He threw a smirk over his shoulder at Balthazar, emphatically not letting on that that had stung. Hey, at least the other angel was playing.

Within a minute Aziraphale was, also, wearing a party-hat, and Gabriel steered him toward the bar. "Now we can get to having some fun! What're you both having?"

John blinked in bemusement as the hat was snapped into place. After a moment's consideration, he carefully removed it and conscientiously placed it into the nearest bin. He had a feeling this was not the right response and he should be throwing it at people or something, but he didn't have the nerve for that at this moment. Or ever.

Upon reaching the bar, he considered the possibilities and came up with what he usually came up with. "Dry red? Something." A bit predictable, but safe, certainly.

"The strongest scotch I can get." Balthazar wasn't going to waste any time, going straight for his favorite remedy for a bad headache. Except this headache had been going on for the last couple of weeks, to say the least. Even the way he sat down spoke of a bone-deep weariness.

Geez; he really did need to make sure they got drunk and fast. What a couple of cadavers. Gabriel threw up his hands and shook his head. "Just as well we're planning to drink tonight; the pair of you need to loosen up."

Aziraphale's vagueness was actually kind of worrisome, but Gabriel intended to keep an eye on him. Balthazar's weariness ... that was also sort of worrisome but something Gabriel could sympathise with. He clapped his hands just a little harder than necessary on both of their shoulders, gave Balthazar's a quick squeeze of sympathy, then ordered a dry red and scotch for "these two boring meatheads" and Owen's wonderful honey cocktail for himself.

Feeling slightly more secure with a drink in his hand, John glanced from Gabriel to Balthazar, then back to Gabriel with a curious, if slightly worried, look on his face. "And . . . that is all, isn't it?" He was off enough that he felt even less secure doing whatever else Gabriel would classify as 'fun'.

Balthazar almost snorted into his drink at the question. It wasn't a real laugh, unfortunately, just a chuckle at someone else's expense. Still, though, it felt good to do something resembling humor after a long time of nothing.

This poor creature had no idea what the hell he was getting into.

There was something wrong. Gabriel regarded Aziraphale with narrowed eyes for just a moment before pulling an easy, sunny smile onto his face. "Nope! We're only just getting started. But apparently I'm just going to have to spend a little more time prepping the pair of you before we get to the other fun."

He grinned ominously at Balthazar, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Don't be laughing, bro. He's got something planned for you, too. Or he will. After he's livened you up a bit.

Sighing, John drank, trying to look less worried than he felt. The way Gabriel was looking at him was very unsettling and he would prefer if it stopped as soon as possible. The only way to do that, as far as he could tell, was to play along, so he smiled as brightly as he could manage and avoided looking at Balthazar. How unpleasant.

"I feel I should forewarn you," he directed at Aziraphale. "Sylvester is notorious for his mischief. I would drink slowly, if I were you. He might give up if we take too long to get drunk." Was Balthazar an asshole? Yes. Did he enjoy watching people suffer a little too much sometimes? Yes. This was a new playing field, though, and Balthazar felt the poor man deserved some slack. This wasn't one of his brothers or sisters from home; to Balthazar, this man was some lost angel who had wound up on the wrong cloud.

"Well, now you've revealed all your plans to me, I'll just have to make sure to spike your drinks," Gabriel said innocently, taking a mouthful of his own and savoring it. Really, nectar of the gods. "It's either that or we continue with my plans for the night while you're still sober. And trust me, you probably don't want to do that."

John's face, a mixture of horror and morbid interest, must have been quite a sight. He continued to drink, not savoring the taste as he might usually, but taking Gabriel's advice to heart. He was quite certain he did not want to do that. The situation was overwhelming enough when sober; he didn't want to be sober and subjected to Gabriel's idea of fun.

Still, he glanced briefly at Balthazar and shrugged helplessly. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the advice, but - well. He was here now; the only way out was through the bottom of this wine glass.

Balthazar simply focused on his drink, enjoying the burn of it. It had been some time since he had felt alcohol like this; not since the first time he had drank for an insane amount of hours trying to discover how much it would take to get him drunk. He supposed he wouldn't have to worry about it, anymore.

"The first game," Gabriel announced just as if he hadn't noticed either of their reactions (or rather, Balthazar's not-reaction), even though he was imprinting Aziraphale's expression in his mind for all time. "The first game is that whoever finishes their drink last has to--"

For just the briefest second he hesitated. Usually he would have said 'sing a song', but he didn't have any intention of getting as drunk as his brothers, which meant if he was going to be last it had to be something he could do. (Not that he couldn't sing. He could. He just hadn't, for two thousand years, and sure as fucking Hell wasn't about to start now, over something like this.)

Then he spotted the glasses on back wall of the bar, propped up like a sideshow game at a carnival, remembered the elastic Balthazar had snapped at him, and pointed to where it lay on the floor. "Knock a glass off the back with that elastic without the bartender seeing him."

Blanching, John was about to protest - the glass would break! It would be destruction of property! - when he realized that logic would very probably not work in this situation. He mourned momentarily for the sad death this fine glass of wine was about to die, but consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he wouldn't make a fool of himself by destroying Owen's property.

He'd just make a fool of himself by absolutely inhaling a glass of wine. Which he proceeded to do at remarkable speed.

There was very little that caused Balthazar to stare in utter confusion. After all, he had seen some Things in his day (mostly the weird crap humans got up to). So someone downing a glass of wine as if they would die really shouldn't have caught his interest, but watching the reserved man (angel, whatever) next to him inhaling alcohol like that was almost cause for concern. If the idiot didn't pass out in the next 30 minutes from it, he'd have to give him a pat on the back.

Balthazar, on the other hand, was not about to down a glass of scotch for anything, thank you very much. "You're mad," he said to Aziraphale. "And you're juvenile," he pointed at Gabriel. "And I'm not going to destroy glasses where I work." Was supposed to work. Details. He tipped the glass to his lips and drank from it very slowly.

In contrast to Balthazar, Gabriel threw back his head and laughed, and then pounded Aziraphale on the back. "Don't choke, now! It'd put a crimp on the night if one of us suffocated before we got anywhere."

Neither of the others would notice it, but there was an edge in his voice. That wasn't like Aziraphale. The angel he'd drank with the other night wouldn't have been so easily intimidated, let alone willing to waste a glass of good spirits.

"And you!" Gabriel pointed at Balthazar, mimicking the younger angel's gesture and intonation almost exactly. "You're a killjoy. Besides, since when have you ever worked here, I'd like to know."

For a moment he debated trying to drink even slower, but that would just result in a competition and taking hours to get his brothers drunk wasn't part of the game plan. So he shrugged and lifted his own glass. "Then you'll just have to aim for a soft bit of floor for the landing-pad," he told Balthazar, and drank, not nearly as slowly as Balthazar but more than slowly enough to savour the cocktail.

Once he'd finished his destruction of a perfectly fine glass of wine, his eyes flickered to Balthazar. Well, you're annoying, he didn't say, because it was petty, and because he was above that, and - if Gabriel could stop pounding him on the back that would be superb.

"I'm not planning to die," he said, for lack of anything better. "I'm not going to die in a bar, of all places." He almost said what would people think, and then realized he wasn't sure what people he was worried about, exactly.

At least he didn't have to fling bits of elastic at glass and make a mess, but he thought he might have made a reasonably-sized fool of himself already. He shrugged, and twirled the wine glass slightly in his hand by its stem. At least he was off the hook for the moment.

"Supposed to work here," he corrected, after the scotch was gone. Oh well, he had to shoot a string of elastic at a glass. It wasn't as if he couldn't accidentally miss or anything. "Remind me again how you're my --" Older brother, luckily, went unsaid. He realized a fraction of a second close to 'too late' before he realized that he probably looked like the oldest.

Damn vessel.

"Brother?" he managed to say finally. He sighed, holding his hand out. "You can at least give me the bloody band."

"You'd probably die someplace like a morgue," Gabriel told Aziraphale as he turned to retrieve the band. "Or a church. Just to make it easier for people when they bury you."

The archangel dropped the band into Balthazar's palm and then raised a finger with a smirk. "You're just lucky. Now, stakes! If you miss, you get an extra round to drink. If you miss on purpose, you're going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover and polka-dots. And I will be able to tell, bro."

Lucky is not the word I'd use, John thought, and then realized that, one, they weren't really listening to him, so it wasn't worth saying, and two, he likely wouldn't have said it anyway. He was experiencing a certain level of confusion at the moment, and while he doubted that an abundance of alcohol would help matters, at least if he drank and kept silent he might not get any polka-dots.

"Yes, very probably," he muttered, sarcasm edging his voice. "Or fall into an open grave." He ordered another glass and sighed, looking over at Balthazar to watch the display, vaguely entertained despite himself. He wasn't sure why the other man was playing along when he didn't seem to be enjoying himself any more than John was.

"That would be vaguely disturbing if," he could actually make him polka-dotted without him noticing. Balthazar knew he would have to be black-out drunk for Gabriel to ever make his threat come to life, which he didn't plan on being. "You weren't off your game." Despite not being enthused about the whole thing, seeing as he wasn't twelve, Balthazar still pulled the piece of rubber into place on his fingers.

He recalled when being an angel meant something. The whole being worshiped, respected, and terrifyingly holy thing; being a soldier of Heaven and smiting things. Yes, he clearly remembered those days as he was swiftly reminded of the fact that three former angels were sitting in a run-down bar, trying to out drink the other.

Maybe it this was recollection or the fact that it was purposeful that caused him to miss. Either way, he missed a glass by a fraction of a millimeter and simply sighed. "Better luck next time."

"Don't make me up the stakes, now," Gabriel said, waggling his finger at Balthazar. Not that it wasn't true, which was the pain of it. It had been a while since he'd had to work so hard to come up with things himself.

The archangel scrutinised Balthazar for a moment, but the flicker of weary melancholy that had crossed the younger angel's face made Gabriel decide it had been a real miss. He snapped his fingers at the bartender. "A shot, then! And then another round for everyone."

Of course, that was when he realised that there was no way to get the rubber string back. Gabriel frowned at the glass which had had the audacity to not get hit, then looked around the bar. As his eyes fell on an out-of-uniform Worker a sudden smirk burst onto his face. "Last one finish has to spike our friend over there's drink with--" He reached over the counter and snatched up a saltshaker. "This. I'd run out to get some hot sauce, but I don't think I can trust you reprobates alone. And don't get caught, or we'll all be in bigger trouble than just having a hangover."

It was pretty tame, as things went, but given what the Worker was drinking the salt would have a Hell of an effect.

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you've got to lose inhibition

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