Well, I don't know if all that's true, 'cause you got me and baby, I got you...

[uberboned]

Who: Gabriel, Jinx, and their friends and family.
When: Friday the 13th, before sirens.
Where: A park that has been shamelessly borrowed for this event.
Summary: JINX AND GABRIEL ARE GETTING MARRIED.
Warnings: Schmoop.

[Friday the 13th is a day of preventing bad luck from finding you- and it will find you, somehow. But for an unlucky little lady who has been a staple of Siren's Port for a few years, it's her luckiest day, so what better day for her wedding?

A small park has been rented for the occasion with a combination of Jinx's charms and her pocketbook and it's really anyone's guess which one won out. Lines of chairs form the aisles, draped in purple, black, green, and offset by red roses everywhere. Rather than a carpet for the bride to walk down, the grass seems to be covered in a blanket of soft rose petals. 

Let's just say if you wanted roses today, you're out of luck.

The reception area stands off to the side, offset by dozens upon dozens of ice swans and... for some reason a living elephant also decked in purple and black. Jinx wanted one. The zoo obliged. The end.

And where there should be an organ, there's a harpist. The groom, standing up at the front of the makeshift altar with the king of Hell on his left and a Prophet of the Lord at his right, looks as smug as the cat who caught the canary- or, more appropriately, the canary who charmed the cat- and despite the few stage whispers of "Yes, Chuck, it's too late to make this a Jewish wedding", all is well.

And when the harpist starts playing "Stairway to Heaven," it begins.]

Comments

[ofthursday]

I seem to remember you telling me you could not get drunk.

[Just saying, bro. Castiel is lifting his own drink--he's not even sure what this one is--up to his mouth when Crowley speaks, and he chokes briefly on the liquid.]

I am not certain she'll be pleased.

[integrity]

She'll be absolutely furious.

[With a low laugh, as he leans his shoulder slightly into Castiel, amused.]

You're going to choke on your cheap liquor.

[ofthursday]

[One he manages to make sure he's not going to suffocate ungracefully, Castiel just leans right back but manages to still look haughty.]

I am an angel. I won't be felled by liquor, cheap or not.

[integrity]

Aha, right. And what would happen, hypothetically, if I moved over just...

[And Crowley steps to the side abruptly, so Castiel lost his pillar holding him up.]

Like that.

[ofthursday]

[Sudden flailing and toppling to the side, that's what. Castiel is not always the most graceful in his vessel, and he's more than drunk enough to make it worse.]

[integrity]

[To which Crowley casually tosses an arm out to catch the angel across his chest, holding him upright with a slight huff of laughter.]

Idiot.

[ofthursday]

That was unnecessary.

[But he doesn't sound upset, finding his footing, reaching to hold Crowley's shoulder with one hand and his other elbow with the other to steady himself.]

[integrity]

[Normally, Crowley would shoot whoever decided it would be fun to use him as a third leg, but he's in a good enough mood that he allows Castiel to stabilize himself on his arm.]

But still funny.

[Somewhat lazily as he steps closer, to keep him upright.]

[ofthursday]

I fail to see how this is humorous.

[He doesn't move to stop hanging off Crowley, and despite his words he has the barest hint of what might become a smile on his face.]

[integrity]

I don't think you understand how hilarious you are.

[He gently straightens Castiel, arching his eyebrows up at him, almost in a challenge.]

Have you had enough to drink or should you attempt to beat your last record of inebriation? How many coffee tables have to sacrifice themselves to you before enough is enough, kitten? Think of the lives at stake.

[ofthursday]

I'm going to have more.

[Said in a tone like it's obvious, and also like it had been a challenge.]

But there're no coffee tables here.

[He says it with an exaggerated--for him anyway--shrug.]

[integrity]

Oh, good thing I have you around. I would have had absolutely no idea that there were no coffee tables around, and then I would have wondered all evening where they all were.

[He gently pulls Castiel closer, to get him out of the way of a waiter bustling past with a handful of cocktails and dirty dishes.]

Really, another mysterious event of everyday life solved by such a simple mind.

[ofthursday]

[Castiel steps forward without protest, though he just stared critically at Crowley for several long seconds.]

You're being sarcastic. That is also unnecessary.

[And the demon gets what could actually be considered a playful shove on the shoulder for that.]

[integrity]

[He doesn't move much, but it's enough to warrant his fingers curling around Castiel's tie to yank him forward with him, amused.]

You're being ridiculous.

[Before he glances over the angel's shoulder.]

You should ask the moose to dance. He's attended.

[ofthursday]

[Castiel glances over his shoulder as well, following Crowley's gaze and squinting before looking back at the demon.]

I'm not going to dance with the moose, Crowley.

[integrity]

[There is a moment or two of stunned silence before he laughs, curling his fingers around the tie a little more.]

Is that so?

[And the demon pauses.]

How much have you had to drink?

[ofthursday]

[He actually smiles, at the laugh, swaying and leaning forward against Crowley.]

A great deal.

[integrity]

You realize that there's a specific word for someone with your condition.

[He lets the angel lean against him, but only so much that he doesn't fall over, a hand at his waist to keep him stable.]

It's called alcoholism, it's very dangerous, it kills brain cells, and it's going to ruin your pretty skin tone.

[Ugh, why does he have to be taller. He's proving to be a handful.]

You'll turn yellow.

[ofthursday]

[Castiel just drops his chin onto Crowley's shoulder, quite content leaned against the demon.]

I'm an angel. I can fix my liver. I already told you.

[integrity]

[How weirdly familiar. He's uncomfortable, slightly, by the position -- it's extraordinarily vulnerable and while Crowley generally is relaxed and laid back, he doesn't like people coming into his personal space. That's what gets you killed, especially by the individual using him for a pillar. He's not exactly Mister Pacifism.

The alcohol, though, helps soothe his normal anxieties and instead of shoving him upward, he slips a hand into his jacket, while Castiel is at close proximity.

Time to thieve his wallet so he doesn't completely intoxicate himself.]

Good to know that an angel's Grace can be used to cure cirrhosis.

[It's murmured into his ear.]

How noble.

[ofthursday]

[Castiel should know by now to watch for demons stealing things out of his coats, but he's way too drunk to notice and Crowley's always messing with his clothes anyway, so the pickpocketing goes unnoticed. So does Crowley's discomfort.]

It can be used for many things.

[Castiel: Master of unintentional flirting, especially while drunk.]

[integrity]

And?

[Aha. Wallet thieved. Soon, it is in Crowley's coat sleeve, and he explains away his light touch as a slight drumming against Castiel's rib cage, to be... well, himself.]

What can you do?

[It's a completely innocent question.]

[ofthursday]

Lots of things.

[As though it's obvious, unbothered by the tapping on his ribs. And then, like it explains everything:]

I'm an angel.

[integrity]

Are you now?

[He sounds amused, still running his fingers up and down Castiel's ribcage. Mostly just to tickle and be a great annoyance.]

I hadn't noticed, what with the arrogance and the stupidity.

[ofthursday]

[Ugh, tickling. Even drunk he doesn't like it so he kind of shifts away without lifting his head or stopping leaning on Crowley.]

Don't stereotype.