noscope | RP OPEN POST )

[ no. of course you wouldn't be feeling any of that. it would make too much sense to realize that your every action makes you the spectacle of everyone in the place, but – nope – you don't mind that, do you? you'll never pass down the opportunity to be the center of attention, to let yourself go and have a real time of it.

not that he can blame him. he can't blame him at all. they work too hard, sleep too little to be denied something like this, and even If north thinks he's being a little ridiculous about it, he can't overlook the fact that the man looks genuinely happy.

his eyes are briefly drawn to the shimmy of those hips as the other man approaches, ends up looking away with a small huff of a laugh as he finishes what's left of his drink and york slides up next to him. ]

I've never been much of a dancer. I'd just end up embarrassing myself. [ a knowing little smile, and he's ordering another round for them both with a lick of his lips. ] I think you're having enough fun for all of us, anyway.

[Attention? Fuck yes. He loves attention when he's not working. Infiltration specialists need to be quiet and quick and subtle and, ideally, unseen. That's work. He's not working right now and is reveling in having pretty girls smile and his friends from the project having as much of a good time as he is.

Even if North is being a stick in the mud. God, man, you aren't that old. Loosen up a little.]

So? [He nudges North with his elbow, settling into his chair in a haphazard splay of long legs and bulky arms.] That's the point. You go out and make an idiot of yourself and some sweet lady thinks, hey, maybe I can teach that sucker to dance.

Boom, instant chemistry.

[He drums his hands on the table once, grinning too much for his chiding to really mean anything.]

Damn right. This was the best idea I've had this week!

[ yep. that's his little attention whore. good grief, what is he going to do with you? you spend a good ninety percent of your time trying to get by without being noticed, and you have to make up for it in your off-time?

that .. actually makes a fair bit of sense. damn.

and excuse you, he is not a stick in the mud. he's simply biding his time until the rest of you are ready to see yourselves out and he's ultimately made the designated driver because wash can't hold his liquor with one drink and ends up dancing with a chair.

he nudges him back with a shake of his head. ] Have you gotten your weekly proclamation of you're ridiculous, yet? Because you are.

[ and he adores you.

for reasons beyond his comprehension. ]

Not yet, thanks for filling me in on that. I had absolutely no idea- without the regular reminders? I might even forget.

[He cracks out a low laugh, nudging North back yet again. You have started the poke war, sir, after telling him he's ridiculous. It is now on.

Remember, you brought this on yourself.]

What you need to do- thanks. [A wink and a grin to the bartender- a dude, but a handsome dude that isn't staring too much at his bad eye - and he slings back the drink set in front of him without checking what it is. It's a North drink. North drinks are smooth and easy and don't burn too bad. Much like the man.] is finish that drink and come out with me on the floor. I'll help you find a nice partner for the next song. If you stay here any longer Wash is gonna try to dance with your stool while you're still on it.

Only because you have the memory of a goldfish. [ a beat. ] But of course, I'm always happy to remind you when the need arises.

[ yes. he knows how to mess with you right back, sir – even if he doesn't do it very often. he can't make a habit out of it, because what would happen if he ended up taking the spotlight away from you?

you'd pout, that's what. and there's only so much of that he can handle for a lifetime.

cue an elbow nudging your ribs, you little shit. it's on.

york winks at the bartender and north simply nods in thanks, letting his glass rest on the bartop and turning the whole of his attention to the other man once again. and .. of course he's already cooking up a scheme to get him out on the floor. ]

Okay, let me stop you right there. [ this is, of course, said in his best don't you even think about taking that thought any further voice. ] I'll come out there with you, but I'll be damned if I'm trusting you with finding me someone to dance with. Sometimes I question your taste in partners.

[ eyebrow raiiiiise. ]

[He sees your elbow nudge and raises you a knee bumped up against your thigh and a shoulder check. This is not a war you will win. Especially since he's riding high on three, count 'em, three phone numbers, a promise of five more dances, two shots of something fruity and glowing, and a good beer at the beginning of the night.

Nothing North can do can bring him down. Not even when he starts being a jackass right back- because when North sasses back? York has won. Really. This is winning.

He's dragged North down to his level. That's what winning is all about, man.]

Wha- why? [This is the face of innocence. Really. Utter innocence.] Come on, Susan was a lovely lady and Gary only tried to grope you twice! I think that counts as an enjoyable evening at the club.

[ he won't even try to bring you down from this – for the moment, he's simply giving you a measure of the shit you dish out to him, and it's all good-natured. ( it always will be, with him. it could never be anything else. ) that knee gets bumped back, but he leaves it at that as he finally takes a sip of his new drink, finally beginning to feel the effects of the gin, nice and tingly and warming all over.

he hmms, licks his lips and pushes a hand back through blond hair, blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at york and his mouth pulls to the side in the ghost of his own little smirk.

you're so full of shit your eyes should be turning brown. ] Three times, but who's counting? I'm not complaining, but it really is amusing to see the look on your face when you're trying to pout your way out of something.

[You know what would be great now? Shots. York taps the bar and motions to a tray of those glowing purply fruity fizzy ones he'd had earlier and the Bartender obliges easily enough, setting one down in front of York and one in front of North.

Drink up, be merry, for tomorrow we die, etc etc and all that bullshit.

Fuck it and drink because tonight is good and they're alive.]

I do not pout, Ev. I gaze meaningfully and soullfuly.

[Knee bump plus ankle hook, and York is poking at North's shot, nudging it closer and closer to his hands with a cheeky little grin all his own. He could stand to hear more of those Hmms, could stand to see north smiling and acting his goddamn age for once.]

[ shots are probably the last thing you're going to want to incorporate into this little .. whatever in the world it's trying to be, york, but you're a grown man and he can't very well tell you not to. shaking his head, he eyes the glass put down in front of him with a faint bit of skepticism, and paired with the ankle hook that he counters with what would equate a hip-bump were he not still settled squarely on his stool, he's beginning to feel like he's finally loosening up for the evening. ]

You do, Tay. And you know it, so stop bullshitting.

[ he finally knocks that shot back and follows it with another sip of gin, a small whew! finding its way up from the back of his throat as .. wow, what the hell was even in that shot?

north blinks dazedly, peers over at york as an alcohol-born flush begins to creep across the rise of his cheeks. ]

What the hell did you just give me?

[ york what have you done. ]

Do noooot.

[Soft and singsong around the shot he takes, coming up with a soft sign of satisfaction. Whatever the hell is in these babies, it's strong. It's good. He cracks out another bright string of laughter, good eye warm and dewy with amusement- North looks like he just got slapped in the face by a fish and that's just a beautiful kind of gobsmacked, innit?]

I can say- with complete honesty and utter sincerity, [One hand to his chest, one hand held up like he's swearing an oath.] That I have no fucking idea. Not a one. But aren't they great?

Do toooo.

[ oh.

no.

no really york what was in that shot.

it's good, the warmth of it carving a path down his throat as he swallows around it, already feeling a bit lightheaded in the sense that he's had one too many and doesn't know what to do with himself. he's tingly from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, and he feels good, but it still doesn't excuse the fact that if he isn't careful, he may end up acting a fool.

like. you know. wash.

he shakes his head. ] Of course you don't. You'd prob'ly drink rubbing alcohol if you didn't know what it was, and tasted good. [ no, he is not slurring, and no, he is not

drunk

but maybe he is. ]

.. Want another?

[Wait who's turn is it on the poke war? North's turn? No wait it's his, shit, he forgot. York adjusts by tangling his other foot in North's, pulling himself and his stool closer by dint of determination, well waxed tile, and North just weighing more than he does by a stupid amount. Damn dude being tall and built and tall.

North is clearly onto something here. Clearly. Another sounds good. York raps his knuckles on the table, leaning into and against North while he waits for the next set of shots. ]

I would do no such thing. I've got some class, Ev. Only the finest pine scented ethanol cleaner for me.

[A beat, a wink, and a sigh as another set of shots are set before them.]

To surviving!

[ does it really matter whose turn it was? it .. wait. it does. because york had been at a clear advantage given the whole ankle-hook thing and he'd barely managed not to topple right off of his stool, himself – but now he's scooting in closer, using north himself as an anchor, and there's some sort of joke to be made there that he's missing entirely .. but he's just going to chalk it up to his brain being delightfully muddled.

york leaning against him as he orders their next shots has him leaning a bit on the other man, himself. close enough that he can smell his soap, aftershave, all the junk he puts in his hair to make it do that ridiculous little flip in the front. and he inhales slightly, bumping his chin against his shoulder. ]

I'll remember, a bottle of Pine-Sol for your birthday.

[ oh and here are their shots, and he's all but rolling his eyes at that wink as it goes down. ]

.. To getting out of here without a couple-hundred-dollar tab –

That's right motherfucker, pine sol is classy.

[And so is he, all but snuggling into Norths' side and all. He could do worse than snuggling up to North anyway, everyone seems to take their turn with the older freelancer as days get longer and missions get more tense. York doesn't question it. He just takes hte invitation as it's given, nuzzling into whatever skin he finds while waiting for the next glowing shot.

He raps the bar again. What the hell will one more set hurt? He's got North joking, blushing, and all warm and sexy next to him. Why not keep the good time rolling?]

Don't worry. i told the bartender it was all on Reggie's tab. As long as we bail before he does, w're good.

.. You're drunk.

[ an arm slides around the other man's back and holds him right where he is, uncaring as to what everyone else in the place might think of seeing them all but hanging on each other at this point. north very well could care less – he feels great, like a load has been lifted from his shoulders and he's able to enjoy himself with a night out with his friends, and given that he's got one adorable infiltration specialist all but curled up against him, things really could be worse.

and not that he isn't normally physically affectionate, but the way he has that arm curled around york right now is beyond what it otherwise would be – just shy of possessive in the way his hand rests at a hip, his own body turned toward the other man's as though he were the only human being in the place and deserved every single ounce of his attention.

he clears his throat – one more, just one more – and he's finished, though his eyes seem to brighten the slightest bit at that little bit of information, and he's pausing even as his third ( and final ) shot is set down in front of him. ]

And you're a genius. Doesn't surprise me that you'd pull the tab off on someone else, but .. still. Here's to a job well done, Agent York.

[ aaand down the hatch it goes, still burning as sweetly as the first. ]

I am drunk.

[He responds with a grin, wide and bright and easy as anything. Life is good right now, man. He's intoxicated and in the company of friends. Hell, it's safe enough for him to be drunk and that? That is what has him so goddamn happy. That for right now they can have this. That and North's got an arm around him and apparently he's a snuggly drunk which is something he hadn't known in the slightest. Another point is that, hey, North is DRUNK.

This never happens.

Drunk York instantly sets about sorting out how to make this the most mindblowing night possible for North because, hell, those always start when you're drunk. What the fuck is step two again? He snorts out a laugh and leans into the taller man. later. He can figure out step two later. Right now he just slams back that last glowing shot and flips it over, sliding the shotglass around the surface of the bar.]

Hey, I always have a plan B. And a plan C. If Reggie leaves before we do, we can pawn it off on Wash. That kid doesn't ever spend any of his pay, he's good for it.

[Oh. Wait. Wash. THAT is step two. It's not supposed to happen tonight, though, but the equipment is all set up above the dance floor and he's drunkenly leaning, peering at the switches set at the nozzles that'd spray down fragrant, soap free foam on the dance floor.]

I bet I could make that shot.

Just .. making sure you were aware of it. [ evan what.

you're drunk, too.

that grin has one of his own coming, though; broad and genuine, it spreads across the line of his mouth like wildfire, an all-encompassing thing that he couldn't have helped even if he'd bothered with it in the first place. it's a nice little secret that yes, north dakota is a cuddly, affectionate drunk – a fact which no one else in the project would have even known if he hadn't opted to come out with the boys tonight. but as long as york isn't shoving him away, isn't telling him to get ahold of himself and sober up or what-have-you, there's no real harm in it, right?

of course not.

he's chuckling, going along with the flow of conversation as easily as he's ever done anything in his life, and once he sees the other man eying those nozzles, a switch flips in the back of his mind that has since been – and forever shall be – attuned to the notion of his friend doing something immeasurably ridiculous.

north licks his lips, a single eyebrow slightly raised. ]

Don't you even.

I am so damn aware, you don't even know!

[Enough that he's laughing, he's leaning, even a little more than he probably has to in order to line up the shot and start patting himself down for some kind of projectiles. He's got backup by way of North and the others, even if Reggie is off trying to pick girls up by way of mustache rides and Maine is busy bench pressing a goddamn pool table with people sitting on it and Wash is...surprisingly sober, off in a corner, chatting with someone sweet looking.

Well good on him.

York lets his head fall back against North's shoulder as he finally finds a rubber band, perfect for pitching long distance distractions, and he takes a pit of an olive. Should be more than enough.]

If I make it, you have to dance with me.

[ he's made a terrible mistake. he's had entirely too much to drink and things are about to take a horrible turn for the unimaginable and dear sweet jesus in heaven above let him get out of this alive.

and so maybe he's been hanging around the other man a little too much if he's taking to that level of dramatics, but he's also very drunk and that level of dramatics makes sense to him right now.

… wait. wash is talking to someone? well. maybe the night isn't a total loss, after all.

york's head is on his shoulder and north himself is following the proposed line of trajectory for that olive pit, and he's weighing the outcome. well … a dance wouldn't be so bad, would it?

he hums thoughtfully. ]

And what if you don't?

Doesn't matter, I'm gonna make the shot.

[Because how could he not? It's simple enough of one from here. All he has to do is lean, adjust, let North take the bulk of his weight as he pulls the pit back and gauges the distance, the force he'll need.

Still.

Under his breath he murmurs just before he lets the pit fly.]

If I miss I gotta kiss you.

[And then it's airborne.]

RP OPEN POST )

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