Night Out at the Three Legged Pony Pub

Gabby was a wonderful friend.

He was well aware of this. What other word could be attributed to a friend who was willing to pick their mates up straight from their job on New Year's Eve and pay for their drinks? This is exactly what Gabby had done for his dear friend Max, his dearest friend. Gabby had many friends, but there had always been something special about Max. Maybe because Max was the most put together, and yet the one least in touch with himself. Because Gabby knew that Max had his life on track, but Gabby also wondered if the man with the dark curls had ever really tried to chase after a life he wanted, or if he had just accepted the one given to him.

Gabby liked to think he brought out the best in Max. He was the one who made Max chase (usually literally) after salvation and after the thrills of life. So, he had felt no qualms in showing up at Max's work as he was getting off and leaving the man with two options : "Come drinking with me now, or I'll pull your trousers down right here." Gabby loves his friends, but he also knew which buttons made them move, and he could always count on Modest Maximus Morrison.

Yes, the means to get his friend here were not honorable, but the end that they achieved was absolutely glorious. He had promised to get Max home in time for the midnight countdown of the new year, and had purchased him all of his drinks. He had started Max off slowly but he was getting to a point that was... well, Max was absolutely hilarious really. The poor man didn't realize how funny he truly was. Shame he had to be sloshed to really feel comfortable being so funny.

"Max, love," Gabby called, his own drink held tightly in his hand. "There's no more rum in your glass, what else can I get you?"

There was a reason Max didn't drink.

After an embarrassingly few number of rounds he had started to go a bit fuzzy and after a few more he had all but lost any judgement or rules of conduct. Though the music that was playing throughout the Three Legged Pony Pub was not meant for dancing, Max had been bopping his head back and forth to the tune for some time now, unable to sit still in his chair. "More rum!" he called back to his friend, head still bopping back and forth with increasingly energy.

Max hadn't been happy about Gabby arriving at work and demanding his company but now that he was out he was sure the evening had been a wonderful idea. While having the Dyllans home was, in some ways, a great relief it was also stressful. Jack was getting better but still had a laundry list of issues that Max had taken on as his personal responsibility. Sunny, quite possibly his favorite person in the world, could be exhausting after being locked in a house with her for the whole weekend. And Charlie. It was always a challenge to have a teenage werewolf living in your home.

It would be good to have a night out away from all of the stress that had be building on his life. He loved each of the Dyllan girls to bits but boy did they put dark circles under his eyes. Like Gabby had probably expected, his problems were forgotten with each drink and the music became more and more important.

"Why don't we go out more?!" Max exclaimed, putting his fist down on the table a little harder than he meant to. "We never go out."

More rum. Gabby had taught Max that little trick, that little philosophy. Of course, when Max was not drinking, the dark haired man though the very idea of it was idiotic and barbaric, but Gabby found that his friend usually agreed with him on almost any matter after a few mimosas and a Fireball or two – except when to leave, of course. When Max was sober, he was definitely the responsible friend to a tee. And while Gabby did have worse judgment all around, sober or not, it was he that found himself with the clearer head when they went out to paint the town. It was a strange switch for Gabby, but he suffered through it for Max’s sake. Besides, they were more similar when they drank. Gabby had molded drunk Max. It was he that had first answered the very question at hand. What was the solution to being out of rum? More rum. Gabby rapped his knuckles on the bar for another round.

Always more rum.

If he recalled, rum was a particular favorite of Max’s new roommate, Jack Dyllan. Gabby being who he was and Jack being who she was meant the two of them had drank at least once in their acquaintanceship. It was still strange – Gabby had seen them in all their domestic glory on Christmas, but he could not get over how two people so utterly unalike had come to share a come. To happily share a home, it seemed. And yet, from what Gabby had ascertained, nothing between them. (Gabby had a tendency right around the third drink to begin asking Max all the questions the taller man would never have the decency to answer if he was sober). At their age, two people platonically sharing a house while splitting the duties of childrearing and housekeeping sounded absolutely bonkers. Still, cheers. Gabby was a fan of anything bonkers.

And Max seemed happy too. Gabby had always long suspected that his friend was not exactly satisfied with his life. Gabby was big believer in the idea that carefree did not necessarily mean fulfilled or happy. Max was a wonderful bloke, but he lived a safe, cushioned life typically. And while safe was nice for some people, it wasn’t for anyone with a brain. Safe often led to be boredom. He didn’t think Max needed tragedy in his life, of course, but something to spark him, to give him a noble fight. Something had sparked inside the dark-haired man – it was dim right now, but Gabby saw hope in it.

Gabby grinned at Max’s words. “We’d go out more often if we were allowed to return to the places we went out. You have a tendency for overstaying your welcome once you’ve had a taste of rum.” Nevertheless, he handed Max a fresh shot and said, “Enjoy it, darling, it will probably be the last of the night. You have to be home by midnight or you’ll turn into a pumpkin. And your caretaker suggested rather rudely that I attempt to bring you back even before that. It’s-“ he checked his watch. “Christ, it’s not long ‘til midnight. I don’t know how terrified you are of Jack, but I’ve never knocked a healthy fear of a woman scorned. Finish up your rum, Maxxie-poo, we’d best be on our way soon.”

Max raised his eyebrows pointedly at Gabby, lolling his head slightly and replying with a simple. "I like rum."

Max accepted the shot being offered to him by his best friend, only half listening to his words. He took the glass and momentarily planned on making it last so they could stay. "She's not scary! I'm not scared of her at all." Max forgot his plans and gulped down the rest of his drink as yet another dose of liquid courage. If all of the drinks were giving him extra bravery, he was well on his way to becoming a regular Lancelot. "More rum?" he questioned again, the answer already clear on his companion's face.

With a slight grumble and a mumble of "Pumpkin" Max jumped down off of his stool, landing more unsteadily than he had expected and having to grab his chair to steady himself. Standing upright and brushing himself off daintily, the pair made it out of the bar without too much trouble. Max's moving to the beat didn't stop when they got out of reach of the sound. He felt alive tonight - energetic, happy, and ready to dance. Why should a lack of music stop him?

"I don't want to go home." Max complained purposelessly. It was unavoidable but necessary. Going home would mean the end of his nightly fun and the return of responsibilities that Layabout required of him, something that the young man selfishly wished would disappear.

Max was probably the only one who brought out the part of Gabby that was actually capable of saying no to another shot. Most people would have gotten the usual Gabby response of a large grin, a kiss on the nose, and a call for another round. But something about Max had always brought out the best in Gabby. The men were only a few years apart, but he was really the closest thing Gabby had to a peer, so the shorter man often found he was much tamer and acted more his age around Max.

Okay, not exactly his age. But there were moments where he seemed responsible, as opposed to Gabby’s tendencies towards instability one hundred percent of the time he wasn’t with Max.

Still, Gabby was drunk himself, too. So he could not help but be incredibly amused. He would not forget the comment about not being afraid of Jack and, if he had his way, he doubted Jack would forget either. (Poor Max always seemed to get himself in trouble when he went out with Gabby.) Max stumbled off of his chair and Gabby threw an around his friend, though it did not make much of an improvement. The two were both fairly unsteady, and their feet kept knocking into each other. “Stop, stop, stop – st-stop bouncing around, Max! Christ,” Gabby mumbled, finding it incredibly difficult to walk with the man who was supposed to provide support gyrating and bobbing about like a fool.

Ah, but it had been Gabby who had brought the fool out. He had no one to be grumpy with but himself.

The grouchiness did not last. The fresh air hit him and he breathed it in like a man who truly understood how precious breath was. They were only a block or two away from Max’s neighborhood, so there was no point in apparating – especially because they’d either splinch themselves or end up in the Thames. Gabby released Max after awhile, finding himself more steady on his feet. He pushed his hands into his pockets and let his head loll back, enjoying the breeze on his face.

Max spoke and Gabby looked over at him. “What – domestic life not suiting you? Can’t blame you. I’ve never been a man for kids, and you have a pair that aren’t even yours to deal with. And then there’s the Queen of Fire and Ice, Merlin bless her. But I did promise to return you.” He smirked.

Unhappily, Max stopped bouncing on command and attempted to walk normally, though his blood alcohol content was making that more difficult than he would have liked. Max matched his pace and direction to Gabby. He was about 55% sure that he knew the way home but there had been nights in the past where he had gone in circles when at a much closer distance from his destination.

Max guffawed at Gabby's words, his drunken mind both amused and offended. "Who said I was domestic? I only do the washing three times a week and make lunches and sometimes vacuum. I'm not domestic." Max grumbled slightly, mumbling "Ice Queen" as he walked.

He didn't want to go home. He wanted to go back out and find another bar to spend much too much time in. The pair turned the corner to reveal the house on Layabout and Max stopped momentarily to stare at the building that he had come to call home. It was a strange home to be sure, filled with even stranger creatures. Max moved forward again, making it down the path and to the front door without slipping on the slick ground. He rummaged in his pockets for his keys but came up fruitless. Maybe they were at the office?

Max banged the dragon door knocker twice, too distracted and forgetting that there was a sleeping six-year-old inside. He turned back to Gabby. "You wanna come in? I'm sure we have something else to drink here."

Charlie had long retired to her room and Jack had actually managed to get Sunny to sleep. It was not an easy job, either, and it worked much better when there were two people on the job. Usually, Jack would give Sunny her bath while Max quickly tidied up the six year old's room and prepared her bed for her. Jack would take her up to her room and tuck her in, at which time Max would deliver a glass of water for the young spitfire. Then, between the two adults, a story would be read and the girl would fall asleep.

Tonight, there had been much too much time for Sunny to escape as Jack went to make the bed or collect her water. It took Jack a full hour longer to put the girl to bed (she somehow kept turning up on the front step in her long rubber raincoat) and she was beat tired. She had been mildly concerned about Max's absence and was now finding herself noticeably annoyed. She calmed herself down with a small glass of Butterbeer and had finished her work for the night. The lower level of the home was sleeping nicely, and she was getting ready to do the same upstairs.

There was a knock. Jack had already changed into her pajamas and was brushing her teeth. She grabbed her wand, but continued working the toothbrush as she hurried downstairs. She approached the door and looked through the peephole, seeing that there was nothing to worry about - it was Max and Gabby. She waved her wand, clearing her mouth of toothpaste, and tucked her wand away. The door was promptly unlocked and opened. "It's about time, boys."

The door swung open revealing Jack in her pajama-wearing glory. Eight months ago Max would have been shocked by the sight but by now he barely took a second to notice. The close quarters of Layabout hardly called for modesty when it came to your nightclothes. But seeing Jack had another effect on the Morrison man - it made him remember exactly why he had been nervous about heading home.

"He made me." Max pointed his index finger at Gabby, his eyes wide and childlike as he diverted the blame for going out without permission. A grown man shouldn't need permission from his flatmate to go out a have a drink but somehow Max always felt like he did. Jack was busier than Max and it felt like his duty to be around the house to help with the kids just because he knew he could be. It was rare for him to go out without the force promoting of Gabby because he didn't want to leave Jack will and the jobs he had taken upon himself.

Tonight, Max wasn't really thinking of all that. He was mostly just concerned that the 'Queen of Fire and Ice' (and Gabby had so accurately dubbed her) was going to be mad. Contrary to his proclamations earlier, she could be quite scary.

That was the thing. She was scary, but he wasn't scared of her.

Gabby had never seen Jack Dyllan looking so domestic. She looked downright human, and that was saying a lot, as she had often resembled some sort of dragon or lion. In pajamas and with a toothbrush in her hand she did not even look scary. That's when he saw the flicker in her eyes - oh, okay, she was still pretty scary. But Gabby was never one to show any weakness. So he put on his most charming smile and said, "I brought him home in one piece didn't I?"

Jack, however, was concerned about something else. She sniffed. "Are you two drunk? You took Max drinking?"

"Yes, I did. What's crawled up your arse?"

"You don't take Max drinking!"

"Oh? Why not?"

Jack looked at a loss, before she concluded, "You just... don't!"

Gabby heaved a sigh. "Woman, are you going to let us in or not?"

Jack glowered heavily at him, before jerkily opening the door the rest of the way, glaring at Gabby with all her might. His soul looked weak but he held his smug expression, steering his friend inside. As soon as Max was in, Gabby abandoned his friend to Jack's wrath and ran down the hall to the kitchen, intent on making himself another drink before the redhead could get to him. Jack quickly called after him, "You break anything I'm sticking it up your-"

"You have a lovely home!"

"And keep it down! Sleeping kids!"

She turned to look at Max, raising an eyebrow. "I can't decided if I'm scared for drunken Maximus Morrison, or excited."

Max didn't like them talking about him like he wasn't there. Instead of staying and listening to whatever boring things they had to say he moved past Jack into the warmth of the home, staring about and considering where to go. He really didn't feel tired enough to go to bed and when Gabby brushed past him he realized exactly what it was he wanted - that giant chocolate cake that he and Sunny had baked yesterday.

"I'm not that drunk." Max called to Jack in a singsong voice, prancing towards the kitchen with a skip in his step. While the man hadn't wanted to go home he was feeling much more comfortable now that he was here. Almost everyone he loved was under this roof, not to mention a delicious slice of cake was calling him. Max wasn't really sure what time it was and didn't really care. He paid little mind to Jack's warnings about sleeping children as he called forward to his friend "Get me a glass too!", stumbling on the flat ground as he said it.