WHO: Fred and Alice, with other people in the background WHAT: Fred's prompt - indecent exposure WHERE: The Bubbling Cauldron WHEN: let's go with tonight, 20th October RATING: between PG and R, depending on the obnoxiousness of Fred's penis?
It wasn't often that Fred went to a nightclub (or the nightclub) but when he did he made sure it was worth it. Not for him sitting timidly on the sidelines sipping a perrier water, nope, he was going to be drinking and dancing and drinking and dancing and occasionally spiking someone's drink with something harmless but amusing, although he usually saved that for someone who deserved it (which, in Fred's estimation, was quite a lot of people). He had arrived in a small crowd of friends, in a slight state of inebriation already from Brews and Bottoms, and had spent most of the night on the dancefloor, albeit frequently larking about more than dancing. However, there had been three songs in a row that he felt he simply had to dance like a maniac to, and he was starting to actually hope the music got worse so he could go for a pee and get another drink without feeling like he was missing anything. Perhaps the DJ was psychic, or perhaps he realised people were getting tired, but when the next song came on it was a slower one, and one that Fred had no particular affinity to. He breathed a sigh of relif.
"Do you want another drink?" he shouted in the ear of the person next to him. They looked quizzically at him, obviously not able to hear over the music, close as they were to the DJ. "Never mind," he shouted, shaking his head and shrugging. It was easier just to go, and let people get their own drinks, rather than try and play the miming game. Fred crossed the dancefloor to the little boy's room and was pleased to find it empty and clean. He should probably know who cleaned the toilets in here, but he couldn't remember. He should tell them they were doing a good job if he remembered tomorrow, which he probably wouldn't. Oh well.
Fred had to brace himself against the wall as he stood at the urinal, aware that he was swaying slightly. That probably meant he was drunk, didn't it? He wasn't really bothered by that, but it was interesting to note. He finished, washed his hands (he had been too well trained by his mother to skip it, even when inebriated), and left the bathroom unsteadily but cheerfully, completely forgetting to put his penis back inside his boxers and do up the zip of his flies once he'd buttoned the top. It was a testament to how drunk he was that he couldn't actually feel it sticking out. As he emerged, he was dimly aware that a few people were staring at him, but he assumed it was because he was looking particularly sharp tonight in the new clothes he'd bought from Threads the other day. He swaggered his way over to the bar, feeling pleased with himself. A couple of people were laughing, but he was just glad they were having a good time. People should have a good time. Good times were good.
"Alice!" he hailed as he approached the bar, grinning. It was quieter down this end of the club and he could actually hear his own words as he spoke them, which was refreshing. He liked Alice - anybody who gave birth to Neville was alright in his book, and she seemed like a really nice person, as well as being kickass. "I need a cocktail. Maybe blue. With a cherry in it, and a little umbrella, and maybe a little fizzy firework."