kiba-tar:

Chuckling and grinning widely at Flynn’s witty jab at Kiba’s comment before looking over at Kiba with the expression of mild amusement and exaggerated shock - mouth hanging open and brow raised as if he were offended as Kiba pointed in his direction, Milo retorted, “M-Me? O-Oh no, ooooh n-no, no, no, no, no.” He shook his head, expression fading to one of great amusement. “Th-the moment I-I allow y-you a-anywhere n-near me with a-a dress i-is the day Hell freezes o-over.”

Shaking his head briefly and blinking away the sting of the alcohol, Milo grinned up and chuckled, looking dazedly at Cale.

“F-Fine, thus far. Th-Though I-I’m sure the effects of it will hit later.” The academic replied, chasing the burn of the shot with another large gulp of his beer, not being as smooth as the ‘wolf next to him and getting a substantial dot of foam at the end of his nose.

“To tell the truth,” Cale said through his laughter, “us in dresses sounds a lot like either a horrible joke or a prank gone wrong. So maybe it’s best we all stay away from the dresses.” A couple hundred scarring adventures were perfectly enough for one lifetime, immortal or otherwise, right? Surely they didn’t need to add them traipsing about like the models they weren’t. There wasn’t enough alcohol for such an adventure…hopefully ever.

“Don’t worry,” Cale began, holding his arms up as though to calm down someone who didn’t need it, “we’ll catch you when it does.” Not that people really got that drunk off of one shot. Then again, he’d been proven wrong before, why not again? 

As Milo lowered his drink, Cale bit back a tiny bit of a chuckle. “Milo, I think you got a bit on ya,” he said as he motioned to his own nose, trying to indicate where it was. “Not that it isn’t cute, mind.”

Grabbing a hand to his chest, the pureblood feigned a look of pain. “Why, Flynn, I think I’m hurt! And here I thought we both understood how classy and tasteful of an individual I can be.” He returned the wink with one of his own, brows raised as he took another swig of his vodka. 

Blue eyes became sharp after the tiny comment, kicking Flynn beneath the table, he said, “Watch it, snookums, comments like that will land you on the couch for a year,” He smiled however and lifted his gaze towards Milo and then to Cale. “Alright, alright, no one is gonna wear any damn dresses. I haven’t worn one in over a year, I’ve got no desire to now. Unless of course we’re trying to compare beauty in a drag show, I’d have you all beat.” Not that it was anything to truly be proud of, but he’d take his trophies where he could get them. 

Propping his chin on his palm, he watched as Milo washed down the alcohol and smirked to himself, looking at the froth on Milo’s nose, he chuckled, “Adorable,” Sighing in exasperation, he said, “None of us at this table have class. That’s what makes us such a wonderful group of misfits,” Kiba said in a nearly sing-song tone of voice.

Was he already tipsy?

Nah, he decided as he took another gulp of his alcohol, he was just getting started after all. No need to go beneath the waves of amber liquid just yet. 

Flynn didn’t say much on the subject of drag. I mean, once he’d unleashed the kraken, there was no way in hell he’d want to shove that monster back under the sea of discomfort. Better to break the ice and get it out there than to dwell on the nerves. And sometimes it took a monster to make sense of a situation. Or maybe his head was starting to spin. But he’d only had one, right? Not that it mattered, he was fairly 100% certain he’d be ordering more within the hour…

He glanced sidelong at Milo and flashed a crooked smile at the sight of the young man’s foamy nose. Of course, the initial knee-jerk reaction had been to reach out and brush it off—or lick it off, as the wolf in him sorely wanted to. But he refrained, if only to keep from starting an unnecessary fight. A fight? Over Milo? Who would’ve thought…?

Hazel eyes slanted back to Cale with a cunning flicker and Flynn’s devious smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “If by ‘classy and tasteful’ you mean ‘ancient and outdated’,” Flynn drawled, lightly waving a hand in Cale’s direction as if dismissing him. He sank back in his seat with another blink and Flynn pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hissing and jumping when Kiba kicked him, the white wolf was granted a withering stare, before dragging his leg up to rub the pain out of his shin. “Gee, ‘sweetie’,” he seethed quietly, “you kick like a girl. Must be all the high heels.”

Letting his leg sink back to the ground, Flynn all but sprawled out and lost himself to the hum of conversation and laughter. He wasn’t sure when the drinks started piling up—filling up?—but pretty soon the room was spinning and the lights were blurred. And nothing in the world was bothersome or hurtful. He could fly away at any given notice, so all he really had to do was hold onto the table and not let go.

…Why was that so funny?

kiba-tar:

Milo, halfway through sipping his beer, very nearly inhaled the beverage at the mention of Kiba in drag, quickly setting the pint down so it didn’t spill, trying his best not to choke, sputter, or spit his poison of choice that night across the table. Instead, the spindly boy simply hunched his shoulders, coughed a few times with what looked like a badly-hidden smile and scowl as he gulped down the drink and cleared his throat, before laughing quietly at himself and only worsened the blush from the conversation about strippers.

“I-I’m sure—” Milo paused to clear his throat again. “I’m sure K-Kiba i-in drag is a f-fascinating i-if not mentally s-scarring sight.” Milo agreed, grinning at the wolf shifter in question. “I-I’m sure h-his dresses really bring o-out his eyes.”

Chuckling and drumming his fingers on the surface of the table as he exchanged words of thanks to the barmaid and glancing around at the three of his closest friends, Milo recoiled a little bit as if the substance pushed towards him was poison rather than a simple shot of whiskey.

“O-Oh, I-I promised m-my mother I-I wouldn’t drink too much..” Milo grimaced, leaning back and eyeing the shot apprehensively before looking back at Kiba. “B-Besides, when have a-any o-of your ideas not brought m-me trouble?” He added, throwing a teasing grin at his roommate.

Looking to Flynn, pursing his lips and then back at the shot, Milo wrinkled his nose before beaming once again.

“But I-I suppose one shot couldn’t h-hurt… Fine.” Milo nodded. “J-Just because y-you guys i-insist. Y-You only g-get one 19th birthday, I-I suppose.”

And with that, Milo clasped the shot before throwing it back, near-slamming the glass back onto the table, eyes wide and the after effects of the liquor burning his throat for a brief amount of time. After a split second, Milo looked up and grinned, feeling somewhat triumphant though he could considerably argue that taking shots seemed to physically hurt.

“Th-There. O-One shot. H-How do y-y-you even drink this stuff?”

From strippers to Kiba in drag, it appeared, their conversation went. The latter sat a little less pleasantly than the former, causing Cale to nearly spit out the vodka he’d downed thus far as a chuckle made its way out of him. Slapping his bottle down on the table, he leaned back, laughing more than he had in quite some time as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea of Kiba in a dress…before deciding there were better and prettier things to think of. 

“Oh, Kiba,” he said as he clapped a hand to the shifter’s shoulder, “I love ya, man. You’re a great pal and a good friend, but you in a dress is the last thing I think I’d like to see while I’m sober. No offense to you, I’m sure you make a great girl, but I think I’ll take another swig of vodka before I sign up for that show.” 

Cale nodded, adding in his vote that Milo should indeed take a shot of alcohol. Wasn’t there a song for that? Either way, it was a great way to start off his birthday. At least, that’s how the birthdays Cale attended usually started off.

As Milo downed the drink, Cale raised his hands to clap and a whistle to cheer, laughing slightly as he set the glass down. “Congratulations, Milo,” he said, “your first shot of the night. How do you feel?” 

Looking down at his own bottle, he shrugged. “Practice? Lack of taste buds?”

Turning his head the moment Flynn decided to cut into the conversation, Kiba’s mouth opened up in slight shock that he would bring that up before he threw his head back laughing.

“Fuck you all,” He finally said, “Flynn why did you bring that up, hm?” Cocking a brow he leaned towards the werewolf against his side and propped his chin on Flynn’s shoulder. “Were you hoping to get a private show later? It can be arranged you know, I can be your tiny dancer,” He said, grinning all the while before he smacked a wet kiss on Flynn’s cheek and leaned back. Looking over to Milo, he pointed at the cub, “You’re the only other person at this table who could make a convincing girl, don’t make me make an example of you.”

Glaring over at Cale lastly, he pouted, “Why is everyone being so rude to me? You lot never complained before about how good looking I was and I probably do a much better job at please you than any other girl you know,” He winked after those words and waved his fingers teasingly around everyone at the table. Kiba gave Milo a rather bored look at the end of it all.

“Tonight is your birthday Milo, you’re expected to let your hair down,” Smiling when he agreed, the shifter clapped excitedly and pushed the glass over. Laughing once Milo did he shot, he took the glass back and did one of his own before shaking his head with a sigh. “Cale and I probably have most of this mess already embedded into our blood stream, no big deal.”

“It’s actually mostly just traumatizing,” Flynn noted calmly, studying the ceiling and lifting his beer to his lips with a deft flick of his wrist. The foam very nearly caught his nose as the ‘wolf sipped a hearty mouthful, dutifully ignoring the way the others reacted to the nose—particularly Kiba himself, who seemed so grievously affronted by the fact that he had been found out. 

The ‘wolf did, however, shoot Kiba a pensive expression at the offer of a free show. Hazel eyes darkened and Flynn lowered his tankard with a subtle sneer; more of a smirk than anything else, before picking and choosing his wrds very carefully. With a gesture of his fingers in a shrinking position, Flynn murmured in Kiba’s general direction, “tiny is right”.

The sloppy kiss made him cringe and the ‘wolf melodramatically wiped off his cheek with the back of his hand, shaking it out theatrically before chuckling and delving back into his drink with another little sip, eyes softening as he watched Milo take the shot. There, now. That had to be some coming-of-age ceremony if ever he saw one. 

“You only get one of each birthday, if you live long enough,” he murmured cheerfully. “And I think we should end that at ‘lack of taste’ for you, Cale. ‘Buds’ is just redundant if the rest of you already lacks it,” he added with a wink to show that he was kidding. Mostly, at any rate.