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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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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