August 15th; It's a Spooky Party!

[strangelic]

Who: Castiel and YOU. ALL OF YOU.
What: It's a party! It was going to be a fun game of Twister party, but now it's a spoopy party. This is a massive mingle, so please feel free to write your own starters! And feel free to jump on the party game headers as well, or include them in your starters too!
Where: The bar!
When: August 15th
Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. No, I lie. Alcohol, truth or dare, people falling on each other, scary stories maybe and snogging in a closet. And talking about feelings. Please add your own warnings to your comment thread headers and I will add them to the list!


Whether or not the lights were off, Castiel was determined to go ahead with his plan to cheer up the residents of Hadriel, and get them interacting with each other. He'd made his plans a week in advance, and when it came right down to it, the idea of whether or not he would allow Fear to get in the way of having fun was practically moot. Of course he wouldn't. It was far simpler to be oblivious, far easier to overcome fear - at least his own, if not the god - with amusement, and companionship.

It threw a bit of a monkey wrench into his plans, and was, it had to be said, particularly devastating for his personal party trick in particular. How would his "pull my finger" joke work now? But he was determined to soldier on, and that meant that the bar was taken over by an eager angel, complete with food that had been collected from the orchard, and around the town, a pack of cards, a bag full of pebbles, a bunch of sticks with tiny carvings on them, and as much paint as he had left over from his aborted attempt to redecorate the Winchester apartment.

Not much of a party, but that was what guests were for. And party games. And alcohol, obviously--that was why it was being held at a bar.

So maybe they'd have to bring their own light, and perhaps people might take advantage of the spooky mood and audience to tell some of those stories that Fear wanted people to share, or to play horrid tricks on each other...but so long as things didn't turn into a remake of Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead, or House on Haunted Hill, they were probably fine. Actually, scratch that, so long as it didn't turn into any horror movie ever, they were probably fine.

But then, with Twister, Truth or Dare and Poker (any of which you can add "strip" in front of and they will be infinitely more fun) as available gaming options, perhaps it was a horror movie already.

Comments

[prespangled]

[He's not drunk, he's pleasantly tipsy, and he'll fight anyone who says otherwise. But he's glad that Bucky's here, and he's pushed a double of every drink that he's ordered in his friend's direction.

Funny how he doesn't seem to be unsteady at all.]

You sound like Doctor Erskine. [Steve smiles sadly at the mention of his name.] He said I couldn't have any schnapps until after the procedure. But then I didn't get to have that either.

[Steve holds up a finger at whoever's behind the bar, ordering another round.]

[wipedclean]

[He's drunk whatever Steve's put in front of him, mostly so Steve doesn't frown at him, but also because he knows it won't affect him. He doesn't want to be intoxicated while looking after Steve, but he can't be with this weak stuff, so he doesn't mind.

He may or may not be a little worried that it's encouraging Steve to drink more, though.]

You will.

[He's not particularly excited about the prospect of the procedure. Once Steve gets the procedure, he'll be Captain America, and his target. He doesn't want Steve to be his target.]

[prespangled]

[Or maybe it's keeping Steve from drinking that too. A sigh escapes him before he nods his head, but then he gets thoughtful again as he studies the bottom of his empty glass.

What if that's not really him? Steve trusts everyone who's told him about the future, but the longer he's here, the more he feels like maybe someone else has taken his place. Or maybe that's just the booze talking.

Either way, he remembers that it's a party, and Steve pushes a smile onto his lips as he looks up at him.]

Truth or dare?

[Even if that game was over hours ago.]

[wipedclean]

[It's absolutely keeping Steve from drinking that too.

He frowns a little, then rolls his eyes.]

Dare.

[prespangled]

Ok. I dare you to tell me the truth about what happened to you.

[Guess what the 'truth' option would've been.]

[wipedclean]

[He's startled, and he takes a step back, then sits down on the stool next to Steve.]

Which part?

[prespangled]

After you left Brooklyn.

[Because that's Steve's last memory of him, all sharp uniform and sharp salutes.]

Before you got here.

[Everything in-between.]

[wipedclean]

[He frowns, stares down at his hands, resting in his lap. He squeezes them into fists and then lets them relax, takes a deep breath.]

I don't remember.

[Wait, that's not true. He shakes his head.]

I don't... remember all of it. Or in order. It's all... bits and pieces in my head. Scrambled.

[prespangled]

So tell me what you do remember.

[And if Bucky needs an incentive, maybe he'll find it in the way that Steve pushes his drink aside, turning so that all his attention's on Bucky.]

[wipedclean]

[He stares at his hands for a little bit longer before lifting his head to look at Steve again, shrugging.]

I fell. There was a train. On a bridge. I fell. [He frowns, and his gaze slides off into the middle distance as he concentrates on pulling the fragments in his head together.] Russians... they found me, I think. Then... the doctor. Zola. He said... I would be the fist of Hydra.

They made me better. Stronger. Made me a weapon. [He's supposed to be... proud about that. Well maybe not proud, but certainly satisfied. But it's hard to reconcile that with...] It hurt. [His voice gets small, distant.] The wipes... hurt. [He looks down at his hands again.] Order through pain. [It's a reminder to himself as well as an explanation, of sorts.]

[He goes quiet then. If he'd been asked this just after he'd arrived, it maybe wouldn't have bothered him at all. He would've been certain that what he's gone through was for a purpose, was for the good of the world. But now, months later, he's not as sure anymore. The seeds of doubt have been planted and cultivated.]

[prespangled]

[A lot of what Bucky says still doesn't make much sense to him, not in a big picture sort of way. But Steve can piece some of it together, and even the pieces by themselves are upsetting.

Steve slides his hand over Bucky's, gives it a squeeze.]

Hey. Ain't no one told me that I died yet. [He knows things about his future, but no one's mentioned that.] I'm gonna find you, and help you, and nothing but death will keep me from it.

[wipedclean]

[He shakes his head.]

No one can help me. It's already done.

[There's no way out. There can't be. It's impossible.]

[prespangled]

You don't die either.

[Steve knows that much, Bruce told him months ago.]

I'll find you, Buck, and we'll figure out the rest together. I can't call myself your friend if I don't.

[Steve suddenly looks a little pale - green, you might say, if people actually turned that color. He would blame it on the emotion of the story, but. Nope, it's probably the alcohol.]

I think I'll call it a night. I don't feel so well.

[wipedclean]

[It's not true, he dies before and after every mission--every time the wipe happens, it's a kind of death. But he won't say that, not as Steve looks sick. He sighs softly and picks Steve up in a bridal carry before Steve can protest.]

I'm taking you home.