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psychoshenanigans2015-07-18 05:30 pm
birdsbirdsbirds) wrote in psychoshenanigans2015-07-18 05:30 pm
Nebulous // AU
[somewhere in unspecified time and space, a call has been made.
Robin's hanging out at his place, leaning back against the table, looking idly over the instructions on the back of a large box. "Twister". someone explained how to play this game to him while he was drunk at a bar a few nights ago, and said it was the "best thing ever"--but he thinks their explanation had more stripteasing and body shots than the box is really bothering to tell about.
anyway. he called his friends over so they could give it a try, and here you are.]
Robin's hanging out at his place, leaning back against the table, looking idly over the instructions on the back of a large box. "Twister". someone explained how to play this game to him while he was drunk at a bar a few nights ago, and said it was the "best thing ever"--but he thinks their explanation had more stripteasing and body shots than the box is really bothering to tell about.
anyway. he called his friends over so they could give it a try, and here you are.]
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[The sarcasm there is evident. Please, like those words erase all of the ways he eyeballed him in the past. Waving that off for now, he accepts the shot glass with his free hand, downing it before he realizes that Nel is "taking his turn."
He watches him completely disregard the rules for the game, eyes trailing up from his toes to his face. A grin slowly forms, and he jokingly nips at the small bit of air between them. Come now, stop teasing.]
Does my hand look yellow to you? You cheat! [He's teasing, but as he rolls the shot glass to the side of the mat (who cares), he reaches to pinch lightly at Nel's foot with the now-free hand. How about they just play like this??]
Spin for Robin, Mattias. [Meanwhile, he tosses that order without even a glance.]
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Is it truly a fuck-up if he purposefully decides to ignore the rules?
[He refills the glass as he waits for an answer, flicking the spinner with his free hand.] Right foot blue.
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[and he squeals, ineffectually squirming to try to get away from Oren's pinching without actually going anywhere.
...it's obnoxious.]
Robin, you're blue? Can I be green?
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People aren't colors, that means the color that's on the ground.
[he finishes his bottle. he may be racing, at this point.]
You give him way too much credit.
[he leans down, gives Mattias a pat on the shoulder, and then good-naturedly puts his right foot on a blue spot.]
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Let someone show you your next move. [That was to Nel, offhanded before he's calling to Mattias.]
Now spin for me! Let's keep this going, shall we? It's a shame you're so far, Mattias.
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[He mutters, downing his two-shot punishment. They go down easier than before and he's not sure that's a good thing. Shaking his head clear, he gets to filling the rest.]
What is this stuff any—Shit.
[Small panic! His hand lingered too long on two of the glasses. A small puddle forms beneath either one. With no towels within six inches of his hands, Mattias scrambles for the next best thing. Slapping his palms in the liquid, he attempts to dry it before realizing that no, that's not working either. Uh. Fuck. Mouth?? He slurps at the puddle but barely anything comes up. Scowling, he leaves it, sipping the liquid past the rim of either shot glass before turning around.]
Time for another round—dammit.
[In an attempt to step around something he had... sworn had been there, the shot sloshes again, practically emptying itself onto the spinner. He looks down at it, then at the cup. To Oren, he shrugs, downing the rest of the spilled shot.]
The, uh. [He furrows his brow at the empty glass. How to make this into a joke... ] Holy... alcohol commands you move your "right foot yellow".
[Two shots still intact, he holds one out to Oren before realizing the conundrum. If he just told him to move a hand and he's already got one placed down in a game where hands can't move... how is he going to drink it? Frowning, he kneels down beside Oren, smacking his arm before tipping up his chin.] Wait, wait. Hold on. Open your mouth.
[Even if he doesn't, Mattias is doing it for him, sticking in a finger to hold it open and bringing his own face far too close just to ensure that he actually pours it in. It ends up there, for the most part, and he grins at Oren's tongue in satisfaction.] There. Who's next?
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Me next!
[purely because Nel is still balanced there (now with two of the boys leaned down in front of him) and whatever they're doing looks fun.
is he volunteering for a turn? or a drink? or just... to have Mattias leer over him like that? he'll take whatever.]
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[it's one of the nicer things he could have said. and it's with another laugh, too--maybe the rules aren't so important. they're going to melt holes through this shitty plastic sheet if they keep spilling the booze everywhere.
while Oren (and Nel?) are taking their turns, he tries to gesture for Mattias to bring him one of the bigger bottles. like, the whole bottle. just fuck him up, man, he's got a huge magical-blood-fueled tolerance to overcome before he can even feel anything.]
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His free hand, which is still free since Mattias had commanded him to move his foot to yellow, reaches to grab Mattias'. Holding it in place, he swallows the alcohol and closes his mouth around his finger, pulling it out with a purposeful slowness that's meant as a show to all three men in the room. Mattias in particular, of course.
He looks up at him as he pulls out the last of his finger with a pop.]
Go on, then. [Nel's next, and then whatever Robin wants. Smiling in that charming way of his, he lets Mattias' hand drop and shifts so that his right foot touches to a yellow spot.
He's going to try playing for as long as they can manage, okay.]
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You next?
[Oh. Right. The game. Or was it the shot? Maybe both. Probably both. He wavers as he stands, the world swaying beneath him, but he manages. Catches Robin's gesture as he raises his head and gestures for him to wait, one minute only vaguely knowing what he requested. His mind is still on Oren's mouth.
Picking up the next shot, he flicks the spinner with his toe.]
Left hand blue. [He murmurs as he sidles closer. Even now he's hesitant to approach, a skittish animal to Nel's overeager child, but the buzz of the alcohol dulls it. He bends over him, bringing their faces close, and tilts his head back with a gentle, controlling hand to the back of his neck. Something is muttered—either "open up" or "here you go"—before the shot is poured into his mouth. Again, he lingers, making sure it went down smoothly before retreating. The class is set off to the side and the spinner is flicked again.]
Robin, left hand yellow. [He draws back, frowning at the spinner as he turns and stands.] A lot of hands, isn't it? It seems I'll have to pour for all of you. You're lucky I chose to be impartial.
[What had Robin wanted again? Oh. Right. He grabs the largest, fullest bottle he can, pauses, and then picks up another one to accompany it. Absinthe and everclear. Such odd names. He frowns at the labels as he delivers them to Robin. Even respecting his distance, he stands too close though he tries not to look at him. The memory of Oren's lips has left nothing but temptation behind. He has to stop himself from wondering what Robin's might taste like.
He presents both bottles with some flair, gripping the neck and holding them out so Robin can read the labels.] I think I knew someone named Absinthe. Take your pick. [And then, because he might be kind of hopeful:] Do you need me to pour it for you?