Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7
Last Call
3 ReviewsBarret and Cid have a drink.
Disclaimer: Don't own these charaters and I make no money off of this. They belong to the Square and I have nothing over them.
Warnings: Coarse language. Short.
Notes: Cid and Barret getting drunk off their asses! Perfect example of my writing style. Get a scene or line stuck in my head, write it, have no clue what the hell else is supposed to happen, let is sit on the hard drive, and hope a fic comes along that can incorporate it. Or not as the case mostly is.
Last Call
by fairady
~
The barkeep sighed as he watched some of his best vintage get spewed through the air. He was regretting letting the rest of his employees go early. Now he'd have to clean up after the rather impromptu party that had descended upon his bar.
"You shittin me!?" Cid Highwind squinted at his glass as he tried to refill it without spilling any more of the very fine brandy, and properly convey his astonishment to his companion at the same time. Giving up on the glass the pilot took a swig from the bottle before bursting into a very, not girly, definately not girly, fit of giggles. "Cloud dressed like a woman?"
"Yep," Barret Wallace grinned dropping his voice conspiratorially. Which meant he was speaking at a shout instead of the roar he'd been using for the past few hours. Not that it really mattered as no one had stuck around the bar when the two men had sauntered in already smelling of beer and trouble. "I even got pictures."
"Fuck!" Cid slowly slid under the table as the concentration required to stay upright was lost to laughter. He hadn't been with the odd group for long, and it was hard for him to imagine the emotionless blonde wearing a dress and wig. "He know you got pictures?"
"Probably," Barret shrugged and downed another pint of ale. "He ain't said anythin about it yet. 'S not like Tifa 'n Aeris made a big secret about it all."
"The fuck?" Cid hauled himself back into the seat and looked suspiciously at the other man. He could vaguely make out the blurry outline of three Barrets but couldn't focus on one long enough to tell if the man was serious. "They saw him like that?"
"Yep," Barret nodded carefully. The room had a tendancy to wobble if he moved his head too fast, too much, or at all really. "And they still chasing him."
Cid shook his head in pure awe. "-the hell he do that? Anyone else'd be laughed at fr'ever. An he's got two babes chasin him!"
"I know man," Barret grabbed for Cid's bottle, and got a good hold of it on his third try. "Some guys just have all the luck. Cid?"
The blonde pilot had lost his battle with gravity again and lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling. The brandy burned in his stomach, and it wasn't in a good way. It also brought out the first clear and sober thought he'd had since they'd started drinking. "'m gonna puke...."
"Yeah, that'll do it," Barret slowly stood up and walked towards the other man. If he went slow enough he was sure he would be able to get them both back to the hotel in some sort of a good condition. Or at least close enough to an officer's patrol beat to get them dragged back to it. "Time to go, man."
The barkeep breathed a prayer to the Gods when the two men made it out of his bar without causing a further mess.
~
Warnings: Coarse language. Short.
Notes: Cid and Barret getting drunk off their asses! Perfect example of my writing style. Get a scene or line stuck in my head, write it, have no clue what the hell else is supposed to happen, let is sit on the hard drive, and hope a fic comes along that can incorporate it. Or not as the case mostly is.
Last Call
by fairady
~
The barkeep sighed as he watched some of his best vintage get spewed through the air. He was regretting letting the rest of his employees go early. Now he'd have to clean up after the rather impromptu party that had descended upon his bar.
"You shittin me!?" Cid Highwind squinted at his glass as he tried to refill it without spilling any more of the very fine brandy, and properly convey his astonishment to his companion at the same time. Giving up on the glass the pilot took a swig from the bottle before bursting into a very, not girly, definately not girly, fit of giggles. "Cloud dressed like a woman?"
"Yep," Barret Wallace grinned dropping his voice conspiratorially. Which meant he was speaking at a shout instead of the roar he'd been using for the past few hours. Not that it really mattered as no one had stuck around the bar when the two men had sauntered in already smelling of beer and trouble. "I even got pictures."
"Fuck!" Cid slowly slid under the table as the concentration required to stay upright was lost to laughter. He hadn't been with the odd group for long, and it was hard for him to imagine the emotionless blonde wearing a dress and wig. "He know you got pictures?"
"Probably," Barret shrugged and downed another pint of ale. "He ain't said anythin about it yet. 'S not like Tifa 'n Aeris made a big secret about it all."
"The fuck?" Cid hauled himself back into the seat and looked suspiciously at the other man. He could vaguely make out the blurry outline of three Barrets but couldn't focus on one long enough to tell if the man was serious. "They saw him like that?"
"Yep," Barret nodded carefully. The room had a tendancy to wobble if he moved his head too fast, too much, or at all really. "And they still chasing him."
Cid shook his head in pure awe. "-the hell he do that? Anyone else'd be laughed at fr'ever. An he's got two babes chasin him!"
"I know man," Barret grabbed for Cid's bottle, and got a good hold of it on his third try. "Some guys just have all the luck. Cid?"
The blonde pilot had lost his battle with gravity again and lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling. The brandy burned in his stomach, and it wasn't in a good way. It also brought out the first clear and sober thought he'd had since they'd started drinking. "'m gonna puke...."
"Yeah, that'll do it," Barret slowly stood up and walked towards the other man. If he went slow enough he was sure he would be able to get them both back to the hotel in some sort of a good condition. Or at least close enough to an officer's patrol beat to get them dragged back to it. "Time to go, man."
The barkeep breathed a prayer to the Gods when the two men made it out of his bar without causing a further mess.
~
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