ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-12-19 22:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, garrett hawke, kenzi malikov, killian jones (captain hook) |
Who: Killian, Hawke, and Kenzi
What: Picking up some Rat Droppings ale turns into A MISTLETOE ATTACK
When: Today, probs
Where: The Hanged Man
Rating/Warnings: Crudeness, as usual
Status: Complete
Liam was still around, and believe him, that was something Killian checked everyday - he’d get up early as he always did, unable to have broken that habit he’d acquired during his Naval days (which came in handy while raising a newborn), and discover that his older brother had been up even earlier. And there Liam would be, with a big, warm smile and his bed perfectly made, Army corners, usually out in the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone. He maintained that he wanted to be a good houseguest, and impress Regina with his cooking. Tending to Meara happened too, and the baby never cried in Liam’s arms. If she had been before, she’d stop as soon as he held her. It was a rather interesting time, but Killian needed to decompress a little and to The Hanged Man he went. He and Kenzi had already taken Liam once, but Killian went back with just Kenzi now, to perhaps get a couple of bottles of ale brewed right there - the Rat Droppings. Liam had been particularly fond of it. The weather was still bizarrely wedged into the winter category. Streetlights were misty in the light snowfall, ice gently blanketing the sidewalks (might even make for accidents, best to salt those whenever possible) and as he drove toward their destination he had admire the milky moon, resembling a Christmas ornament on its own and hung in the night sky. It was odd to think that the grass was still down there, entombed in the compacted, icy layers, the top layer more of a perfect powder. Heading into the tavern, he went right up to the bar after stopping only a moment to warm up by the fireplace. “Hawke,” he called, leaning over to where the kitchen door was. “You’ve got customers.” Life was a whirlwind these past couple days, so decompressing was mucho appreciated - because while she appreciated Liam’s presence in a way that couldn’t be expressed by words it was also hard to come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t permanent. It wouldn’t last, and then he’d be gone. But Kenzi knew it was better to have him around at some point for a brief amount of time than to have him never be around at all, even if his absence would weigh more heavily around them. “Yeah, man, we need to see a manager for this piss-poor service!” the mini-pirate called out, jokingly, as her teeny butt swiped a stool at the bar. Her coat was corset-styled, leather and ribbons, fashionably paired with striped white and black stockings climbing up the skirt of her dress. “One star on Yelp, one.” Oh, bugger. One handsomely accented voice, the other filled with sarcasm, and the Champion of Kirkwall was well aware of the patrons awaiting service up front. Chatter behind the doors subsided and it took him a minute to come out, balancing baskets of the poutine that’d become so popular - but he greeted the two familiar faces and pushed one complimentary cheese-filled vessel before them before dispersing to deliver to the other customers. Ones whom often paid and never got the complimentary perks, mind you. Leandra was around as well, but Hawke still had a business to run but at the moment his most dearest resurrected matron was up in the flat with Bela, bonding over something feminine no doubt. He was glad for it too; his mother always did like his piratey consort, and wanted to make sure Isabela knew this was her family. “Anyway,” breathed the mage, caught up, and squeezing himself behind the bar for a proper greet. “If it isn’t my second pair of favorite twins - happy holidays, good to see you, do you want to cup my bum now or later?” “Later. In a minute or so,” Killian responded, already going for some of that poutine - the gravy was soaking into the fries, but not to the point where they got all soggy (which was revolting). And the cheese curds were melting, delightfully squeaky in the teeth, and not too cold. He suspected there was some sorcery going on with this, and he slapped at Kenzi’s hand to make sure she didn’t take from his side of the complimentary heart attack in a basket. It was all out of sibling love anyway. “We also came to buy a couple bottles of Rat Droppings,” he went on. “Liam really likes the flavour of medieval ale for some reason.” Not that the Captain would kick it out of bed either. “And - in person, let me know what you think.” Reaching into his pocket (after wiping off his hand, to make sure the velvet didn’t get stained with gravy), he presented the antique claddagh engagement ring, nestled in its box. Ah - hey! Rude, Killy. Rude. “Probably an echo of what he could dream if he was - well - you know.” Kenzi didn’t have to elaborate; her bro’s butt buddy here was on mostly the same boat as they were with having a deceased relative making it home for the most ‘wonderful time of the year.’ “But isn’t the ring so shiny?? The stone goes well with the blood of her enemies.” Quite a point! Hawke had to take a moment to fully admire the glittering stone, and he thought it symbolized the captain and queen very well. “Taking that final plunge into commitment, I still can’t believe it, mate. Good for you. Did you decide on your official ‘prank’ gift yet?” “Those poo earrings are going to make you get tossed out of a window, Bubba,” Kenzi chimed in with a flare of those fine, slender brows. “Juuuust sayin’.” What lady didn’t want to be given the gift of moose poo? To wear? Killian chuckled, and the look in those cool blue eyes of his leaned toward devious - shimmering, crashing, churning like the sea he so adored, waves breaking on the shore. It was clear that he wasn’t going to back off from the idea of a prank this holiday season - ho, ho, ho. “Oh, she’ll get those earrings as a gag gift for sure,” he nodded, pocketing the ring once more. “If I add something with it, like bathroom towels or something, she can’t throw me out the window. Because I tried. It’s not my fault I don’t know a fucking thing about fashion.” Honestly, he was a little surprised he was taking the plunge into commitment too - but it felt right, and with Meara they were obviously headed in that direction anyway. Provided that Regina wasn’t so offended by the idea of poo earrings that she left him before New Years even happened. “We’re taking Henry to a superhero dance party for New Years so I’ll find a good spot during the festivities - I hope,” he said, stuffing another fry into his mouth. Welp, that meant Kenzi would be there sweepin’ up the glass just in case! But the whole thing was exciting anyway - she was already tits deep in the details of Bo’s wedding but the prospect of her brother getting hitched? It hyped her up tenfold, and she was glad to know he had someone whom he was ready to tie the knot with all officially. The two of them being on Meara’s birth certificate was a pretty solid indicator of their relationship status, buuuut this also meant festivities! And she lala-looooooved festivities. “Bath towels are so romantic,” she snarked. “Get them monogrammed for that extra attempt at crap effort?” While that suggestion was pitched, Hawke was gathering the glass bottles of ale for the pirate crew. Custom label, and Rat’s Dropping’s was corked like wine but capped off like beer - that way it could be stored and freshness maintained. “A superhero dance party, that’s equally romantic. You nervous? Shaking knees, sweaty palms?” “Monogrammed, most certainly,” Killian pulled out his phone to make a note - to look up a few places where one could actually purchase monogrammed towels, maybe those His and Hers ones too. How utterly cheesy (and ‘romantic’). But then the bottles of booze arrived, and he slid a few bills toward Hawke to cover the costs - probably more than necessary, just think of it as a good tip. He was all for supporting local businesses, especially those run by people with grabbable bums. The superhero dance party was at Discovery Cube, one of those ‘science is fun’ places for the young ones, and Henry was probably already putting his outfit together for it. Whatever made the lad happy, and he was good with Emma and Neal watching Meara in exchange or however they were going to work it out - one of the perks of having a large, built-from-scratch family. It’d be interesting to see how the proposal ultimately went down. “More the idea makes me nervous and gives me a quiver - I know it shouldn’t, since we already talked about it, but it’s a big step. Our lives will technically change a lot,” he shrugged, somewhat casually. Gods, marriage. A tip, how grand. Hawke winked, but it was most appreciated - it’s not like he didn’t take care of his friends when they came in either, and he’d at least pour them a pint of the home-brewed beer in frosted mugs. Two drinks in exchange for revenue from selling whole bottles was bloody worth it. “Well, speaking as someone whose knots are, I’d say nothing really changes,” he contributed. “You two already live together, are raising a child together, the legal part of it is for the financial perks.” “And the giant party. Can we not forget the party?” Okay, okay, it wasn’t her choice but if there wasn’t some kind of festivity to celebrate her brother’s nuptials she’d be pretty peeved. Kenzi wanted to snap photos of Killian on the Big Day, looking all flustered and adorbs. Was that a crime? “And you’ve got nothing to worry about, Bubs, she lurves you. I’m stuck hearing how much you guys just luuuuurve each other at night, when you think Meara and I are passed out.” Ahem. Kenzi sipped her beer, pinky out. Such a classy lass, his sister. Killian snorted a laugh, tipping his beer glass toward him to chug. Hells bells, that was good, and strong, sweetened with honey and herbs - so good, in fact, that he could sort of avoid grumbling about he and Regina’s enthusiastic displays of love being heard. They tried to be quiet, but sometimes it didn’t always happen! “Well, naturally there will be a party,” he concurred. “Something on the Roger, perhaps. Or on the beach, we can spread out there.” After a ceremony on the Roger, which was something Regina had mentioned already - plus, he was all for booking a honeymoon where there was horseback riding. Another something he’d promised her. “I’ll have to ask first though, then plan the party.” He playfully tugged on a piece of Kenzi’s hair. “Little sis ought to be the photographer.” Rambunctious love-making even with a child to care for?! Bravo. Hawke was impressed, dimples revealed as he grinned, broadly. “I’m sure there’ll be something planned, and as always, I’m at your service should you want alcohol provided.” Well, there wasn’t probably a question whether or not there’d be booze during that celebration. Killian was a pirate, and while he wasn’t passed out in an alley with rum oozing out of his pours he’d still damn well toast for his ‘special day.’ “I totes don’t have the special camera for that, but I would find a way, and I’d do it but I demand a dance!” Traditionally the son would dance with his mother, something cute and all, but why couldn’t it be a brother-sister dance? “I’d get all the right moments, the cake and the kiss and -” Huh. Speaking of kiss, there was something odd that began floating across the room. Kenzi and Killian had their backs turned to them, but Hawke was distracted by its presence. Evident, of course, with the way his eyes squinted to get an idea of what the fuck that was. After it neared he realized what it was, and what it would do, and Hawke pointed to the snow-powdered greenery that was headed their way. “Ah, Killian? Sorry to interrupt, but what is about to happen is no way near intentionally adulterous.” ‘Intentionally adulterous’ was a great way to lead in with something. Adulterous, or incestuous, because Killian was sharp and had an inkling what was going to happen - and he had a brief flicker of hope that mistletoe wasn’t going to make him put his tongue in his sister’s mouth. But no, no danger of that. Because as soon as Killian looked over his shoulder, he saw that festive shit heading right this way. And here we go, the most epic of bearded fellow kisses - he lunged across the bar, compelled by the spirit of the season and Orange County trolling, grabbed Hawke’s collar, and stuck his tongue in that fucker’s mouth. Poseidon’s balls. Sigh. Hawke never thought he’d see that blasted thing again but there it was, making a public debacle at his expensive again - because that urge flared with sudden and very misplaced lust and oh, look, there was a different pirate’s tongue in his mouth and this was his life now. It could have been much more monumentally awkward, really, if one of them had kissed the female in their company (for obvious reasons). Killian was at least handsome, though he’d have to admit that kissing another man with facial hair felt very odd. Meanwhile, Kenzi rightfully gawked a little, but the non-adulterous face-battling didn’t deter her from plucking at the gravy-slathered fries of her homeland. “So that’s the mistletoe you were talking about last year,” she said. “I thought that was just you trying to justify molesting Queenie’s face with yours. Damn. Uh. You guys done cleaning out each other’s mouth or should I be worried??” In his time, Killian had to admit that he’d kissed plenty of fellows with facial hair - back in those manslut days, certainly. So while it wasn’t too strange, and were he not about to be engaged (he hoped) he’d have let it linger longer than was necessary, it was still bloody bizarre. And probably counted as assault, thanks so much for that, Orange County. “Hellfire!” he spat, grabbing his frosty mug and finishing the ale in about two gulps - glug glug, right down his throat. “I should fucking sue this county for sexual harassment. But alright then, suppose we’re done.” He looked contemplative for a second there, giving his black prickly scruff a thoughtful stroke. “Not bad, Hawke. I think I should just stick to grabbing your arse though.” Hawke wasn’t so alarmed, no, and all the stares they’ve earned throughout their liplock session could bugger the fuck off right now. Thank the fucking Maker his mother wasn’t present while all this occurred as well, otherwise he’d have a lot of explaining to do to the dear resurrected matriarch. What he did need, however, was a goddamn shot after that fiasco. One was poured, and then it was quickly tossed down the hatch. “I think we’d all prefer if you two just kept it to the ass grabbing,” Kenzi quipped with a very ‘oh, what do I know’ shrug, but was also totally grinning at the expense of her brother. “Less things to explain to Liam.” There was a suggestive waggle of brows from the mage. “Aw, you probably liked it though. Fair enough, mate - I had the same luck last year, in a crowded restaurant, spilled wine everywhere and all that. When I saw it I merely surrendered to my fate.” “Alright, alright - better get that bum grab in now and get out of here before anything else completely mad happens,” Killian said, sliding off the stool and making sure to give Kenzi the bottles of Rat Droppings. Naturally he went around and got his handful of Hawke’s ass, you know, to give another show for the patrons of The Hanged Man. That mistletoe though. He’d been a victim of it twice last year, and now it seemed the nasty stuff was making a very much unwanted reappearance. Though at least one of the incidents last year had been with Regina, and this year? Well, if he had to be mistletoe assaulted and compelled to kiss someone, he was glad it was someone as ruggedly handsome as his fellow British friend here. “Oh my god, barf, you two,” Kenzi drawled, rolling her eyes at their display of affection - geez, maybe in another world she would have had a potential brother-in-law instead of a sister-in-law? “Thanks for the bottles, hombre, Biggest Brother’s going to be psyched when we come back with offerings.” Oh, p’shaw. Killian’s sister could judge all she wanted. Hawke also reciprocated that bum grab, tightly, before releasing him so he could be off his merry way. “Best of luck to you. Tell your brother I said hello and hell, Killian, try not to choke on your marriage proposal, will you? I’m here if you need me to talk you through it and reassure you that you’re beautiful and worthy of love.” What? He would! That’s what friends were for. “How utterly sweet of you,” Killian deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “At least I’ll actually be the one to make the proposal.” Oh, ho! Teasing, he was, the devious scallywag he tended to be. With a crooked, devil-may-care grin he winked at Hawke before heading to the door, where the actual hanged man was swaying. Killian would still be back either way, to share the epic tale of his engagement. Or what he assumed would be epic - because when did things go to plan, perfectly, around here? Not so much. Trolling mistletoe was perfect proof of that. |