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Tweak says, "Do you want to build a snowman"

ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs,
@ 2015-12-23 14:13:00

Entry tags:

!complete, killian jones (captain hook), tasslehoff burrfoot

Who: Tas & Killian
What: Evil Mistletoe™ Attacks
When: Tonight, I think
Where: A British-inspired pub in the OC
Rating/Warnings: Snogging and Killian's got a touch of alcoholism, but yeah, that's pretty standard
Status: Complete

Being at a British pub in Orange County was sort of like a ‘close your eyes and you can imagine you’re really there’ experience, but Killian did know how to pick the best ones. He wouldn’t have guessed that a fellow with the name Tasslehoff Burrfoot (parents were certainly hippies, no getting around that one) enjoyed the environment of a good pub, but then again, he was a seasoned traveler. He’d probably been to his fair share, just not authentically British ones.

But The Olde Ship in Santa Ana was a decent substitute. Killian didn’t simply order a drink either, no; since he planned to eat well in ‘celebration’ of his medical debt being mysteriously paid off, he got himself a lamb shank, with rosemary sauce - tender, juicy, flavourful, who didn’t love a bit of slaughtered lamb, no? Add to that a Snakebite beer-and-cider and he was doing alright for this evening.

Just one beer, mind you. There were still more pills to take, the damn medication regimen that Kenzi liked to remind him of by programming alerts into his phone and hers - yes, yes, he’d take his medicine, no need to worry.

“I picked up one of the other books a map of yours was in,” he said, mixing up his mashed potatoes and vegetables. This drove Liam mad, when they were children. “I was just curious. But it was pretty good.”

Pubs were one of Tas’ favourite things in the world. No matter where one went, there was always a good pub (or, at the very least, a nice sit down bar) to be had, and it was one of the best places to make new friends, or to sit and chat with old ones.

Tas himself had ordered the Shepard's Pie with some spiced potatoes, and was sipping on a chocolate stout. While normally he ordered ale, dark and traditional, today he was in the mood for something a little different, and the hint of chocolate turned out to be exactly what he wanted.

“Really?” Tas said, excited. “Because of me? That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done here!” Well, at least in the last week. He did get that nice drawing of himself that Rapunzel had drawn, which was currently hanging up on the rubbery wall of his bedroom, but Tas had a short memory. “Wait, was the book or the map good? I’m not really sure if I’ve ever really actually read any of the books that I’ve drawn for.” He always tried to give it an honest effort, but reading was boring and there was always something more exciting going on. He read the bits he needed to, and that was that.

Was it nice? Oh, alright, Killian supposed so. He wasn’t used to being called nice, not at all, so he appreciated the sentiment. “The map, I mean,” he chuckled. “The book itself, I haven’t read that yet. Fantasy tales aren’t usually my cup of tea. Then again, I don’t read a lot for pleasure anyway. Except for lately, when I was laid up in the hospital.”

He always had too much to do, or if he was awake and afflicted with insomnia he’d rather drink himself to a blackout sleep rather than read. Reading was healthy - god forbid he actually do anything that fell under that category, in his wretched life.

“Have you got plans for Christmas, then?” he wanted to know, sipping on the Snakebite. Chocolate stout was an interesting choice too - Killian might have to go for that next. Maybe. If he was reckless enough to break his ‘one beer only’ vow.

“The map’s definitely the best part,” Tas said. “Of course, they’re usually the best bit of any book that has them.” Well, Tas assumed anyway.

He was burning with curiosity about Killian’s hand, though for now he was able to bite his tongue. While not normally one for following social niceties, and definitely not one to shy away from awkward questions, he didn’t want to make Killian sad. The dozens of questions Tas had could wait, for now, until the wound was a little less fresh.

“I’ll be spending it with Raistlin!” Tas said cheerfully. He hadn’t actually discussed it with Raistlin yet, but neither of them had family in California, and Tas doubted that Raistlin was going to spend it with other friends. “I’m going to cook a big Christmas meal, and we’ll exchange presents around the tree and it’ll be great. Well, I mean, what we have of the tree. We used to have a tree, but now it’s made out of the same stuff that our apartment’s all made up of. It’s big and bouncy, but not really all that festive.” Which Tas was a little disappointed about. Actually, he was starting to get a teensy tiny bit annoyed with the bouncy castle. “Do you have any plans? You could spend Christmas with us if you don’t!”

Tas was sure Raistlin would be okay with Tas inviting people he didn’t know over for Christmas.

That was a rather sweet offer, wasn’t it? And the idea of a big Christmas meal, home-cooked, was also appealing. Killian hadn’t really done a lot of that in the past - it was mostly just him and Liam, scraping together what they could find. Their father was too drunk to bother, or he’d forgotten to pick up the ham, or he wasn’t even there - things of that nature. But since he actually had some semblance of family this year, he would attempt a few things. Oil off the cogs, get the squeaky wheel turning again - maybe it’d be fine.

“Oh, it’s alright, I’ve got plans,” he assured. “I’ve got my sister here. Ah...we are going to try to make a Christmas cake, like how it’s done in Northern Ireland. Or used to be done. I haven’t done it in awhile, but - “ His good hand rubbed his chin, over the dark prickle of his jaw, “I think I can pull it off. Then we’re going elsewhere for Christmas dinner, but I’m sure you’ll have a nice one with your friend. Eat lots of food, yes?”

“Oh, that sounds nice!” Tas said. “Your sister lives here then? I have a sister too, though she lives back with my parents.” He paused thoughtfully for a minute. “At least, I think she does. But making a Christmas cake sounds great! I think I ate one in the Maritimes one time. The Maritimes are almost like Ireland, you know!” Well, Tas had never actually been to Ireland, but he assumed so.

“Of course I’ll eat lots of food! You can’t call it Christmas until you eat so much that your friends have to roll you out the door!”

“She does, she lives with me. The only family I’ve got, but now...since she does live with me? It’s why I’m going to try to grow things on my topside deck - herbs and vegetables and such, to save money. I’ve got a few ideas, so we’ll see if they pan out...” Bloody hell, Killian didn’t usually go on this much. He’d blame it on the meds, but really, it was probably that Tas was just surprisingly easy to talk to. Not sure why that was, perhaps because he was so friendly? No one was really that friendly, at least not without a hidden agenda.

Now he was really beginning to crave Irish Christmas cake. “It’s soaked in whiskey, it’s quite good,” he grinned a bit. “Well, the fruit is. The spices in it are supposed to represent the exotic kinds brought by the Three Wisemen to the newborn King or something.”

But it was really just an excuse to soak fruit in whiskey, and eat it.

He’d have continued some more, but the sudden appearance of mistletoe above them completely put him on a new course. Meaning, he stopped the chatter and leaned across a bit, in his seat, and grabbed his companion’s chin in a very determined act of satisfying the mistletoe snogging requirement. Smack!

Tas’ only ulterior motive was finding people who he could go on fun adventures with. Somehow, he’d managed to make it over ten years of hitchhiking, train hopping, and sleeping under bridges while retaining all of his childlike innocence.

“You’re going to have a garden on your deck? That’s such a great idea! I wonder why pirates never thought about doing something like that. Then they could have fresh vegetables all the time instead of scurvy. Well, if you ever need any help, I know all about gardening.” Well, his parents had had a garden when he was a kid, and in his travels he’d run across other people who also had gardens. That practically made him an expert, even if he didn’t tend to stay in one place long enough to cultivate his own.

Tas’ eyes immediately went up to the Mistletoe above, them, and he started to ask “Hey, what do you think-” before Killian was kissing him. Even more surprising, Tas found himself kissing Killian back which was just plain odd. “Wow, Killian, I had no idea you felt like that!” Tas exclaimed when the kiss broke.

“What???” The mistletoe had floated off, there one moment and gone the next, and Killian wasn’t even sure where the fucking thing came from. Trolling mistletoe though, how incredibly Orange County - he suddenly had a headache, and now it was definitely time to order another drink.

Whiskey, straight up. None of this beer stuff, it wouldn’t be strong enough to quell the way his brain had been rattled.

“No offence, mate, but I think that was the mistletoe.” He rubbed his brow with his good hand, sighing. “Not that you’re unappealing but bigger forces were at play here.”

Tas let out a breath of relief when Killian blamed the mistletoe. “Well, that’s good!” he said, suddenly scouring the bar for the sprig of mistletoe. How wonderful. Not that it hadn’t been awkward, but a weird magical mistletoe that compelled people under it to kiss was exactly the kind of Orange County strangeness that Tas had grown to love, and he wanted to get a proper look at the cheeky little thing. “I was not looking forward to having the talk about how I just didn’t feel the same. Do you think a wizard enchanted the mistletoe too? Because that would be great! I’d love to meet whoever it is who keeps making all these fantastical things happen!”

Two men snogging in a pub really wasn’t that big a deal, so Killian supposed he had to be grateful for small favours. And for the lack of staring, plus the way no one really noticed or cared - they seemed too preoccupied with their drinks and hearty food, which was fine with him. “A wizard? Maybe. It seems like some fucking omnipotent magic though.“

Because what the hell? How else could anyone account for drawing people to the same melting pot of dream shit where their lives were forever changed, they gained superpowers or other abilities, or were oftentimes disfigured. Case in point.

“I don’t know, me losing my hand isn’t very fantastical,” he sulked over his newly-delivered whiskey. That he technically shouldn’t be drinking, but fuck it. “Annoying, perhaps.”

“In the strictest definition of the word it is!” Tas piped up helpfully. Though, he sobered a little bit after, glancing at where Killian’s hand should be. “I couldn’t find Santa though. I’m sorry.” And he was, too. He’d been certain that being able to find Santa would mean that Killian would get his hand back easy peasy. “Does it hurt very much?”

In the strictest definition of the word, sure. That just meant Killian would begin to hate using the word fantastical, and all fantastical things - like the Enchanted Forest in general. And Neverland. Not really much of a fan, what with magic powering both places, like electricity would the modern world.

“You looked for Santa, for me?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s...oddly sweet.” Not something anyone had ever done for him before, so he’d take it as a compliment. “It hurts a bit..”

No reason to lie about it, because he’d lost a vital part of his body - it wasn’t supposed to feel like taking a flight on cotton candy clouds (though with the medications he was on, it sometimes felt close to that). “I’ve got painkillers though,” Killian assured. “So I manage. I always manage anyway, it’s just what fellows like me do.” What pirates like him did, rather.

“I thought if I could find him, he could give you a new hand,” Tas said a little sadly. “Maybe even a better one than the one you had before!” And there it was. His usual energetic self coming through. “Maybe like an Inspector Gadget hand. That’d be pretty cool!” Well, now Tas kind of wished he had Inspector Gadget hands.

“Oh, well that’s good! Alcohol’s a great painkiller too, I’ve always thought. Not when you pour it where you’re hurt. That kind of stings. But drinking it is great for making things not hurt anymore! Next round’s on me then. For not being able to find Santa!” Tas was clearly well-versed in what did and did not mix well with painkillers.

“Well, I’m going to see about getting a prosthetic once this wound heals. So perhaps it’ll be a functional sort of thing, will double as a can opener. Though admittedly the hook does well with that,” Killian quipped. “I just ought to not walk around in public with it on. Might get the police circling me like vultures.”

And by the balls of Neptune, Tasslehoff Burrfoot was absolutely fucking right about alcohol making things not hurt anymore. It was an utterly fantastic way to cope, one of Killian’s preferred and tried and true methods - perhaps not the healthiest, but who the fuck cared about being healthy when you were recently maimed and fresh off snogging someone thanks to evil mistletoe?

“Fair enough,” he grinned. “Think I ought to try one of those chocolate stout beverages you’ve got.” Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear - nevermind that he’d already had beer before liquor, so he was pretty fucked anyway. “What shall we toast to?”

A toast was a very important thing Tas knew. He couldn’t toast to new friends, because he’d already decided that, apart from Raistlin, Killian was Tas’ very best friend in California. And he had the sneaking suspicion that Killian wouldn’t want to toast to how great the Orange County was, because it hadn’t been nearly as nice to Killian as it had to Tas and frankly, Tas was a little ticked off at the Orange County for taking Killian’s hand (now that he was thinking about it, at least. He’d probably forget all about it an hour after he and Killian parted ways and would only remember when it was brought up again).

“To nature’s painkiller!” Tas said cheerfully, as though the beer he was drinking and the whiskey Killian had in hand was entirely a product of nature. Because toasting to alcohol was one of the best toasts to make.

Nature’s painkiller. That suited him just fine. With the next round, the arrival of that stout, Killian lifted it carefully and took a long drink. Oh good fuck, it was bloody amazing - the cocoa flavour was layered right into the brew rather than added last minute on top or something; it was like chocolate cake in a bottle. No wonder Tas liked it so much.

“A grand toast indeed,” he set the bottle down after forcing himself to pace the chugging a little. At least there was still food to help sop up all this booze. “But we don’t have to go on about depressing things. I’ll pick your brain about gardening a little...what sorts of things did you grow, to prevent scurvy?”

Not like there was much danger of getting scurvy in a hippie commune, but anyway. He wanted to hear a good story, and listen to some rambling without worrying about anything else. And who knew, maybe he’d actually learn something too.