Who: Jack & Gale What: Being drunken bros minus a fireball whiskey explosion this time around When: Recent, idk Where: A somewhat reputable watering hole Rating/Warnings: Language and death mentions, but that's it Status: Complete!
Jack’s nose wasn’t broken, but covered in lovely hues of purple and blue, shades he could, as an artist, actually appreciate. Everything had fallen like dominos and now that whatever fucked up magical wave of hatred that veiled them had dissipated, he could finally take a deep breath of air. Slow time down, enjoy life as the seconds crawled by - where nothing was rushed, and he could take it at his pace.
“So how bad did it go for you?” he inquired, a half-grin around the beer bottle he was nursing. Instead of a park they were in the confines of a sorta decent bar, with clean surfaces and a haze of tobacco smoke that Jack assisted with. Ever since he broke out of the trance of having a perpetual broomstick lodged up his ass he’d been burning through a lot of his cancerous sticks. “Wendy tried going at me with a knife. Had to lock her up in a closet, but we all hugged it out. That was some fucked up shit, wasn’t it?”
“Mmphugh.” Yep, so eloquent - that was Gale’s response. Drinking was embedded into Army culture since your first day of enlistment, basically, so he was used to it - and here? It wasn’t just that he was used to it, he fucking needed it. A boilermaker was his selection, more like a treat to himself after really rough times as opposed to ordering a beer or even a whiskey neat - instead it was time to combine both, and he picked up the shot glass of smoky, woody, robust flavor and poured it into the pint he’d ordered.
Then he chugged the whole thing, without spilling a drop.
Anyway, to answer the question. “Completely fucked up shit,” he agreed, once he’d set the glass down. “No closets necessary, but Leliana and I kept glaring at each other and being snippy, and another friend went batshit and tried to shoot me in a bar. I had to pistol-whip him to knock his ass out. Even Tella was getting on my nerves.” But luckily the chocolate lab was really forgiving, and she was happily back to being affectionate like nothing happened. “What even was it? Just usual OC crap?”
Christ, that was what he called drinking - Gale downing whatever mixture of poison of his choice like water, it even made Jack wince because that looked like it’d taste equivalent to liquid shit. But, well, guess he shouldn’t knock it before he tried it. The desire wasn’t there, though. But he’d pay for whatever, he owed his good bud here a drink for birthday shenanigans and while it was belated, the starving artist was determined to honor the promise.
“Probably,” he guessed, shrugging just one shoulder, and he leaned back against the bar stool. He passed some of his fingers through dirty blonde hair, carefully about the cigarette in his fingers. “Being an asshole is some tiresome crap, though. How some people do it, fuck if I know.” A sigh. “Anyway, no harm done on your behalf? Aside from guilt and the overall feeling of shit.”
Really, they needed to pep up, or something. Birthday drinking is supposed to be cheery and celebratory.
The taste of this drink didn’t even matter, since you poured it down your gullet and seared your insides so quickly, but actually, it kind of had a Dr. Pepper sort of flavor to it. Weirdly enough. After that, Gale went for another combo of win - beer and vodka this time, the way the Russians did it, and maybe they had the right idea. He’d buy a round or two also, since this night was a celebration of many things - birthdays, ‘hey, we survived the latest OC fuckery,’ and also ‘hell yes, my dreams have ended and they were shitty.’
“No harm done, not really,” he shrugged too, though he should probably check in with Wash. And apologize for having to knock him unconscious. There were some bad bruises and scrapes from that encounter, since Gale nearly got brained with a skateboard deck, but better than either of them kicking the bucket. Leliana probably didn’t want to bury him, at this stage of the game. “Now we just wait for the other shoe to drop. Man, why the fuck did I move back here again?” he chuckled bitterly. “Oh, right, dreams. Speaking of - “ He motioned with his glass. “Yours are done, you said?”
Orange County citizens were emotional masochists at their finest, and while his dreams may have ended in shit (or, you know, in a freezing watery grave among a sea of corpses), it gave him things that were good, too. Friends, a place to call home, all that sort of happy shit that felt like chocolate chip goo on his insides but that was probably the light buzz he’d been swimming in. Throwing back plentiful beers quickly, and he had a flask for tonight stashed in his pocket - fireball whiskey, for later consumption.
“Done,” Jack confirmed, slamming down his bottle rather loudly to punctuate it. “The Titanic sunk, all we had left to do is float around until the lifeboats decided to have some heart and come back.” The memory was chilling, and he didn’t mean that in a physical way (even if it still applied). All the screams, the people splashing, abandoned children crying, the woman with the newborn baby. With time, it quieted. Silence meant death. “Except they never came, and if they did, I was already dead. I’d managed to get Rose on a floating door to keep her out of the water, and...I don’t know if she survived.”
A question he hoped would be answered, soon. Dreams had been slowly creeping up on Rose and she was still in the happy phase, where things were still new and the possibilities were endless. “Woke up an icicle, Wendy came home on time, otherwise I’m pretty sure I would have been a frozen corpse here, too.” A raise of his drinks. “Cheers, for not dying.”
Gale lifted his eyebrows, because daaaamn. Dying an icy death, caught in the chilled unforgiving trap of a glacial-infested ocean, it didn’t seem like a pleasant way to go. Death was pretty commonplace in Gale’s own dreams too, and he’d come close a couple of times (it was a time of war) but overall he’d survived and gone on to live what he assumed to be a successful-yet-lonely-life. He didn’t have Katniss anymore, he didn’t have anyone. Just a ‘fancy’ job in District 2, and a whole lot of baggage that came from being a part of Squad 451, put together to take down President Snow and the Capitol. Which they had. Oh, they had - at a great cost but to secure a Hunger Games-free future for the innocent children of Panem, it had been worth it all.
“Guess it’s kinda like a second chance now, right?” he said, clinking his glass against Jack’s bottle. “You get to do all the things you wanted to do, with Rose, that you would have done when you got off the ship.” If it hadn’t sunk to its doom, that is.
“A lot of people don’t get second chances,” Jack responded, knowing damn well he coulda died here and no one would have been around to save his ass, but death wasn’t in the cards for him. Not that day, and hopefully not for a long time. “So I’ll take it. With everything I’ve got. Otherwise I’m just wasting away the gift of life, thinking too much about death. What coulda been and what wasn’t. Like a self-destructive cycle of shit.”
He could see where people would get caught up in it, and for a lot it was a neverending struggle. But he was determined to practically shit sunshine, knowing how his story ended - and knowing that things could be different, here. Cigarette smothered in the ashtray, joining the rest of his dead ones, he leaned forward against the bartop and gave Gale a nudge. “Dream shit aside, how’s it feel being twenty-something going onto forty, you old git?”
Gale tried not to be a pessimist, and the words all about not focusing on death were...nice. They were comforting. And yeah, he agreed, he did - but damn if it wasn’t hard to shake off that presence of his other self, looming over him like a shadow and suffocating him. “I think I got too caught up in that, the self-destructive cycle of shit,” he admitted, and the unspoken thought after that he didn’t know how to break out of it. Because it was constantly happening - his biggest fear was bringing Leliana down with him too. He knew she had trouble with similar dark mental rainclouds.
“It’s good though.” He took another sip of his drink, a slower one since this one he didn’t need to basically mainline. “Hopefully it’ll be a good year too? I’m not going anywhere, I don’t think. So we’ll see what crazy shit goes down that I can’t get from the army,” the soldier grinned. “Oh, and Leliana and I are moving in together too. So that was a great present.” Unexpected, but definitely a positive thing.
“I’ve noticed,” he snorted, brow lifted, in reference to how the dreams had caught Gale in their snares, a slow-drip poison. Jack’s dreams were a tragic love story that couldn’t been helped, his buddy’s here was a fucked up society in which they chose children at random and tossed them into an arena to fight for the death, Battle Royale style. “But I can’t blame you. I don’t think I’d be doing alright if I dreamt of a place that had kids kill each other so one part of society could shit and giggle at once. Just...try to keep thinking of everything you’ve got here.”
A sip of his drink quickly, before he tore the bottle (now empty) away to reveal the grin stretching his face. “Like moving in with the girlfriend, apparently. Oughta keep you distracted, yeah? That’s awesome news. You got the commitment jitters yet or is this smooth sailing for you?”
Jack’s bottle was empty, that meant it was time for another round. Gale was still working on his, but he’d order his fellow fireball whiskey friend whatever he wanted - and did, after the bartender slid their way and then went off again; the man didn’t linger. There were things to do, and it wasn’t Cheers - besides, this conversation wasn’t really for the perked ears of others anyway.
“It’s a decent enough distraction,” he grinned crookedly. “I think we’re going to find a whole new place, somewhere on the beach and with enough room for the whole circus of animals we have living with us too. My house is rented, I mean, I never expected to stay there for very long. Didn’t think I’d be moving out to move in with someone else, but...” A casual shrug of broad shoulders, loosening some of the tension he always seemed to carry. “I like it. I think it’s the right time. I don’t have to worry much about leaving her at the drop of a hat for when duty calls - in the Reserves, it’s...easier. And she could always come with me too.” As opposed to if he got called to serve in some godforsaken desert again, a war zone. Couldn’t really bring family into that.
Still a beer for him, he wasn’t ready to get too plastered just yet. In a minute he’d suggest the fireball whiskey ambrosia tucked away in stainless steel, filled to the brim. It was tradition. So was park destruction, but hopefully that wasn’t in their future. Jack had never been to jail before, he’d like to uphold the clean record, thanks.
“The whole moving in thing is a pretty serious leap, man,” he chuckled, absently tugging at his bottle label. A cheap Sam Adams. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Guess that means you're both on the same page with it all. I’ll make you guys, uhhh…” A neck went to rub the back of his neck, blue eyes squinted in thought. “Something artsy. For a housewarming gift, whenever the deal’s done. Big ol’ canvas painting of your zoo. You’ll just have to send me pictures for reference. Who needs kids with all your animals running around. Don’t know how you guys do it.”
Aw, now wasn’t that the sweetest thing Gale had ever heard. “She’d love that,” he laughed, the look in his eye a little lighter. Not so gloomy, as he tended to be. “And don’t worry, I have plenty of references - mostly all on my phone. I’ll email you a bunch of photos when we pick out a place.” And the walls and dimensions of the new house could be measured too, or something - so they knew they would have enough space for a canvas painting.
“You and Rose doing okay?” he asked, turning on his stool to face the former Jack Frosticle a little better. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell her about all the dream shit?” In his Panem crew, there were spoilers here and there - but for the most part, everyone just went through it on their own time. And dealt with it.
He’d make it nice and fucking shmancy too - Jack prided himself in detailed realism, taking exactly what he saw and lining it in paper to a perfection. He’d try to do all them critters justice, though those hairless pig things? Yeah, he wasn’t sure if anything could make them look cute, even with all the accessories he’d seen them swamped in via shameless flaunting.
Then the topic turned to Rose, and he might have chugged down a good bit of his drink before slamming it down and taking in a breath of air. “We’re doing awesome, actually. Tried the whole ‘let’s go on a date’ thing not too long ago.” Where he proposed they do everything they said they would on the Titanic, where both of them knew none of it would ever come true. “As for the dying…” A cringe. “Nah. Not...yet, anyway. I’m still waiting to see where the dreams take her, and if--and if she even survived.” If nothing he did made a difference, in the end. “Something tells me she did, but I won’t know for sure until she reaches the very end and the suspense is driving me up the damn wall, I’m not gonna lie.”
He laughed humorlessly, swiping his nose with the back of his hand. “But, regardless, ain’t letting any of that crap get in the way. Just glad we’re taking it slow and not doing it all in a week, plus the cheating on the side.”
“Slow and lack of cheating is good,” Gale lifted an eyebrow and, yeah, that was an interesting situation - but from what he understood, the fiance was a douchebag. Maybe it was all still best done over in a steady, stable way in this life would be a positive thing for the both of them - a second chance, like they deserved. One without life being cut short. “You do what works for you guys, what makes you comfortable. I’m rooting for you either way.”
He had a feeling that Rose survived too - any woman who exhibited bravery to the point where she jumped back on a sinking ship and took an axe to her boyfriend’s handcuffs was going to be headstrong and clever enough to figure out a way. “It’ll happen soon, you’ll find out,” he assured, even if Gale felt he was shit at that - he was hardened from experience, from switching off emotion to power through battle and not stop until the Capitol fell. But maybe he had a moment or two, here and there. “And you’ll write a better ending to your story. Like ‘to be continued.’”
There wasn’t much guilt on Jack’s behalf about the Cal situation, here or there - the guy had proven ten times over he was a douche, Rose’s hand had practically been handed off to him without much consent, and he always did suspect the son of a cunt was rough with her. So, yeah, Jack might have nailed his fiance in cargo (after drawing her in the nude, imagine that), but she had at least chosen him.
“Look at you. You’ve got romance in you after all,” he teased, patting Gale’s shoulder. Dreary outlook and all but he could still provide little gems of wisdom. All Jack could do, right now, was wait and let Rose experience the journey of being on the Unsinkable (HAH) Ship herself, and whatever it meant for her, they’d come to terms with it. Tuck it in the past where it belonged and carry on. “But hey, if you’re ready to get the hell out of this place…”
He took the flask out, bouncing it in his hands. “Didn’t bring the bottle since you and the bottle itself are a dangerous combo, dude, but guess what this baby is. Let’s find a park and top this buzz with a slosh.”
Hell yeah, that was their ticket to oblivion. He knew right away. The stuff that intestinal breakdowns were made of, but you know. Who could resist the epic cinnamon burn of totally bad for you, equivalent to drinking lighter fluid fireball whiskey?? Definitely not Gale. Maybe this time he just wouldn’t blow up a park and have to call Leliana to come get his hungover, headachey ass and rescue him.
“You’re the best, all with the tastiest recalled shit,” he chuckled, slipping off the barstool. “I’m with you though. Can’t really think of a better way to celebrate all the good stuff happening.” And there was some good. You just had to look past all the bad to see it.
Slipping some cash out of his back pocket, Jack paid the remaining balance of drinks that freed them elsewhere - outside the bar, because it was kind of rude to bring your own crud in such reputable establishments. Dry summer heat, clear midnight skies, and a couple blocks from them was a small park. Nothing special about it aside from a swing set, a slide, a couple benches, and dog shit plastic bag stands.
“First drink,” he insisted, offering him the flask. “Something happens and you go to cardiac arrest for whatever reason it was recalled for, I promise I’ll call 911. I won’t let you down, man.” Otherwise he had a feeling his redheaded half would slit his throat in his sleep - she seemed like the type, hidden underneath the quirky facade. “I just expect the same courtesy, yeah?”
The dog shit plastic bag stands really made the whole ambiance of the park. Gale settled on a bench, taking the flask with a thanks and toasting Jack with it. And then...down the hatch! He coughed. A lot. Because his esophagus was on fire.
“Deal,” he coughed again, handing over the flask so his buddy could take a turn. “That’s what bros do for each other. Especially ‘our dreams suck’ bros. I wouldn’t leave you in the trenches either.”
Another sip from the flask, and he distinctly ignored his watery eyes. It was such a clear night, the whole sky stretched to oblivion. Gale wanted to be sober enough to enjoy it.
“‘Sides, Leliana would definitely kill you otherwise.” Yep, he was thinking along the same lines as Jack - but he really thought his quirky redhead was great, anyone could tell how proud he was that she was his and he was hers! “...I like it out here this way. You know...” He tipped his head back. “Maybe you’re not so bad sometimes, OC.”
Awww, fuck. His turn. Even if it was his idea, he still had some kind of weird memory taste aversion at the fireball poison that was about to set his throat on fire - that hangover from last time was a bitch, and all the beers in his system would definitely be helping the sobriety diminish. Either they’d catch a cab or conk out for the rest of the night like the time before, but, hey. All a sign of a good time.
Shot taken, face distorted into an expression that clearly translated to oh fuck kill me now, he eagerly passed it along and he lit himself a cigarette. Clean the taste of cinnamon off with tobacco, because that’d do the job. “I’m gonna throw up flames of hell after this,” he laughed, an exhale of smoke. “But, nah. This place ain’t too bad. Might make roommates try to stab you, or make you wake up bleeding to death. Coulda always gotten a worse hand in life. Like a shitty version of America or a stupid ship made by cocky white people that sinks.”
Oh, ha. A stupid ship made by cocky white people - that was a good one, ten points for Jack. Gale snorted a laugh, and his next sip of Lucifer’s booze nearly went up his nose. Fuck a duck, did that burn. “You’re either gonna throw up flames of hell or shit flames of hell, whichever reaction,” he started laughing again, because it was all just really damn funny.
Fireball whiskey had that effect on you.
“I guess it could always be worse, right?” Thoughtfully, he rubbed his jaw, with another glance up at the staaaaaars, straight to the brilliance of the cosmos. “I half expect to see ‘the more you know’ flash across the sky right now.” And that was their PBS announcement for the evening.
It could, it really could, though Jack was afraid those words would whisper into the ears of the Powers to Be to the point where they’d actually make things worse, just to prove a point that they were puppets with strings pulled by some invisible force. It’d probably never stop throwing curveballs at them, but he’d gotten used to it - sort of. It was hard to imagine being anywhere else. “Gotta take the good with the bad. And it’s a special sort of bad.”
Though with every place he’s been to, every roof he’d temporarily stayed under as his time as a wanderer, this was the only place he’d actually call home. It was a big step for Jack, and maybe something he hadn’t completely realized until he and Katou and Wendy had a massive ‘hug out’ session after whatever curse that was lifted.
“Do you think you could stay here? For the rest of your life?”
Really, it was kind of amazing what a person could adapt to - the Gale in his dreams would want answers, would demand them, wouldn’t stop until he’d examined every crack and questioned who he needed to get shit done. But here, he had enough problems with trying to contain the fire within him that burned out of control and was fueled by rage and hate - enough carried over, and he couldn’t stand to see it take out everything in this life too.
“I think I could,” he responded with surprising thoughtfulness. “I mean, provided that I don’t get called away like I did the first time I was here. But things were different then. If I’m going to settle at all, then yeah. Fucked Up County seems like as good of a place as any.” His grey, pale gaze cut toward Jack, before he reached for the flask to sear his insides a little more. “What about you?”
Fucked Up County. Hell yes, that is exactly what he’d be calling this beautiful hellhole of combined energies. There really wasn’t a better description that existed. Jack’s grin was goofy, eyes bleary from the drinking and smoke catching into his eyes. “Ah, I don’t know. Maybe.” He could see himself staying here for awhile, but the idea of permanence never really applied to him. Always moving, sometimes without a destination in mind; it all worked out fairly well. He was the simple sort. It didn’t take much to make him happy.
“Depends who all stays and who all goes, I guess. Wouldn’t be home without some people ‘round.” In a perfect world he’d have everyone he loved in one setting, but, nah. It wasn’t a realistic expectation. One day they’d all parts ways - Katou finding something better for himself, Wendy off raising a family of her own, maybe the military would take Gale and his lady elsewhere, who knew. “But we’ll see, I guess. Shit changes all the time. And I really suck at making long-term plans for myself, christ. Though I am thinking of finding a more stable job. Maybe getting a place of my own while I’m around. Settling down for now don’t seem too bad.”
“It does, things are always changing...and I guess it doesn’t have to be bad all the time either.” Gale would try to remember that in the coming days. He couldn’t picture home, as it was, without a few key elements as well. Guess they just had to see where the future would take them, right?
But no, settling for now didn’t seem too bad. Not too bad at all.