Birthday fic!
Jan. 7th, 2011 05:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rillaliciousHappy birthday, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellensmithee!!!!!!!!!!
My writing partner of many years and encourager of all sorts of mischief! ♥ ♥ ♥
I have written something for you, and have no excuse for posting it so late today except for my complete inability to write a decent ending. I will not hold it up any longer by trying to come up with a title.
Fandoms: HP, Supernatural, Burn Notice, Numb3rs, Vampire Diaries, White Collar, General Hospital
Characters: Harry, Ron, Draco, Neville, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Fiona Glenanne, Colby Granger, David Sinclair, Damon Salvatore, Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Luke Spencer, Ethan Lovett, Tracy Quartermaine Spencer
Word Count: ~1900
Rating: No rating. Nothing but banter, really.
Summary: Ron and Harry have a New Year's Eve tradition.
A/N: Total birthday gift crack. Just for fun. Enjoy,ellensmithee! I should probably warn for the cheesy, cheesy ending. (Also, my apologies for only including two female characters. That was completely accidental. AU in almost every way, not the least of which is Luke, Ethan and Tracy spending New Year's Eve at the casino this year.)
So it starts off like this: They're getting drunk for New Year's Eve. The shot glasses drop in front of them in pairs, and are drained the same way.
"Didja hear the one about the greasy git who walked into a bar?" Ron says.
"Three times already," says Harry, and they drink.
"And the bartender says, 'Why the ugly face?'!"
Ron cracks himself up with that one up every time. Harry snorts.
The bartender refills.
"There once was a house elf named Enis," says Harry.
"I thought we said limericks were out of play," says Ron.
"Did we?" says Harry. "Bugger." And they drink.
The bartender refills.
***
"A centaur, werewolf, and a hunter are driving over a bridge," says Harry.
"And the hunter says, 'Who's buyin'?', because it's definitely not me."
"Dean! Have a seat, mate."
"What's Dean doing in England?" says Ron.
"Dean's not in England," says Dean.
"England was two pubs ago, Ron," says Harry. "We're in Miami."
"Did I miss New York?" says Ron.
"No, mate. We decided to go up the coast this year."
"Good," says Ron. "I love New York."
"I'll get you a t-shirt for your next birthday," says Dean.
"What?" says Ron.
"Just drink," says Dean. And they empty three shot glasses.
"Where's Sam?" asks Harry.
"He'll catch us in New York," says Dean. "He's helping Bobby hunt something down not too far from there."
The bartender refills.
"I'll have what he's having," says a woman, slinking up to the bar out of nowhere. She nods at Dean as she slides up onto the barstool.
"Why doesn't that ever happen to me?" says Ron.
"You really want to know why women like that don't hit on you at the pub?" says Harry.
"Yeah."
"Because eighty percent of the time, you're too busy shoving your tongue down Draco's throat."
"Point taken."
"Where is blondie, anyway?" says Dean, without taking his eyes off the beautiful woman beside him. A fourth shot glass is placed on the bar.
"With his wife," says Ron. He drinks.
So does everyone else.
"Sucks to be you, dude," says Dean. "So," he addresses the woman, "you have plans this New Year's Eve, gorgeous?"
"Fell through," she says tightly. She opens her purse and there is a flash of something heavy and dark. A Glock.
Harry knows Dean's hooked now.
"Open to making new plans?" says Dean.
The woman smiles. "Always," she says. "Fiona Glenanne."
"Dean Winchester."
The bartender refills.
***
The bar in D.C. has better lighting than the others. Harry watches a fuzzy brown spider skirt the edge of the mirror behind the bar. Luckily, Ron's already too far gone to notice.
"You've got no spirit of adventure, Granger," says the man beside them.
Harry and Ron both whirl around, half-expecting so see Hermione there.
"That's what you call it, David," says the other man, Granger. The bartender sets down two shot glasses in front of them. "I call it high standards."
"What? Because this place is missing the mechanical bull and some guy in a ten gallon hat singing Travis Tritt karaoke?" says David.
"Hey, I only took you there the one time, and I had no idea they even had a karaoke night."
"Right. Well, you're in my territory now. And it's New Year's Eve, so loosen up."
"That's funny, coming from you," says Granger.
Four more shots hit the bar for Harry, Ron, Dean and Fiona. The two men look over.
"Drinkin' game!" says Ron cheerfully. Then his expression falls. "Think I'm losing."
"S'okay, Ron," says Harry. "We've got two more stops before the Leaky Cauldron. You've got time for a comeback."
"How do you play?" says Granger.
"You need a new joke," says Ron. "An' if you repeat yourself, you drink."
"How hard can that be?" says David.
"If you don't repeat yourself, you drink too," says Harry.
"How's that a game?" says Granger.
"S'not," says Dean. "Just an excuse to get sloshed."
"We're in," says David. "Because this guy is just full of bad jokes."
"All that stuff I said about missing you since you moved to D.C.?" says Granger, snorting. "I was totally lying."
The bartender refills.
***
Dean chooses the next bar, in some town in Virginia. Says he has to catch up with a "contact" there. Two brothers, vampires, meet them at the bar. Harry eyes them up in his peripheral vision. They look nothing like Sanguini.
Their shots are all laid out except for Fiona, who is sipping something slowly from a tall glass. Damon leans over the bar beside her.
"Not one to follow the crowd?" he says.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She sips her drink.
Dean snorts.
"Wouldn't you like to tell me?" Damon shoots back.
"Oh, sweetheart," purrs Fiona, "I would put a wooden bullet through your throat before you even had the chance to sweet talk me into another drink."
"I like her, Dean," says Damon.
"Don't even let it cross your mind, dude," says Dean. "I'll stake you if it comes to that."
Damon raises an eyebrow. "I take back everything I ever said about you. Sam's my favorite Winchester." He turns around to survey the bar, leaning back.
"Hey," says Dean, "I only threatened to stake you. Sammy's actually tried to. Lemme introduce you to my friends. Harry, Ron, this is Damon. World class wankstain, but enough of a gossip whore that I let him walk. For now."
"I'm starting to think you don't value our friendship, Dean," says Damon.
"That guy over there is his brother, Stefan. He's the one you want to hang out with. Good guy."
"Boring as hell," mouths Damon.
Before Harry can comment, Fiona is slipping off her barstool, on the phone.
"Michael, where are you?" she says sharply. "Where's Sam?" Brief pause. "Oh, that's just lovely. I'll be right there." She drops her phone into her purse.
"Do you have any C-4?" she asks Dean.
"Excuse me?"
"No, of course you don't. You, vampire boy. What about you?"
"Sorry," says Damon. "My weapons supplier specializes in killing the undead, not the living."
"'ve got some Puking Pastilles in here somewhere!" Ron offers, fishing around in his pocket.
"Probably not helpful, Ron," whispers Harry.
"It was a nice try, sweetheart," says Fiona, and she pinches his cheek before hurrying from the bar.
Ron grins stupidly at Dean. "She called me sweetheart."
"She called me sweetheart, too," says Damon.
"She didn't threaten to shoot me," says Ron.
Damon raises his shot glass in concession.
Everyone drinks.
"Vampires like alcohol?" Harry whispers to Ron.
"Bet Hermione could've told us that," says Ron.
The bartender refills.
***
They finally make it to New York. There's still an hour to go before the ball drops.
"This round's not on me," says Harry.
"Crap, my wallet," says Dean, patting his empty back pocket.
The man in the hat beside him flips the wallet open on the bar. He tips the hat up just far enough to reveal his eyes.
"Impersonating an FBI agent?" he says. "That's not even a good replica."
Dean takes his wallet back. "Comes in handy when I need it. You a cop?"
The man in the hat raises a badge. Dean squints.
"That says 'consultant'."
The man in the hat shrugs.
"Neal, what are you doing?"
Dean turns around. "Now, that guy is an FBI agent." He gives the agent a nod. "This pickpocket with you, Mulder?"
"Do you want to tell him what I found?" says Neal.
"Not really," says Dean.
"Should I be concerned?" asks the agent.
Neal flashes a smile. "Off duty tonight, Peter. Remember?"
"That look says I should be concerned." Peter turns back to Dean. "You with those two?" he says, nodding at Harry and Ron, leaning heavily over the bar.
"Uh, yeah," says Dean. "They're here from England. I'm showing them a good time on New Year's Eve. Right, Ron?" Dean thumps him on the back.
"'ello, gov'nuh!" Ron shouts with a wave.
"Too much, dude," Dean hisses through his teeth.
"Hi," says Harry.
The bartender starts laying out shots.
Peter grabs Neal's arm. "Elizabeth's waiting for us at the table."
"One shot, Peter. Come on. I like these guys," says Neal.
"Just one," says Peter disapprovingly.
They all drink.
Sam shows up about the same time Peter and Neal leave, and Harry's a little glad for it since the first words out of his mouth are about werewolves in the Berkshires.
"That reminds me," says Ron. "What d'you get when you cross a werewolf an' a... a... I think s'a sheep?"
"A new sheep," says Sam and he knocks on the bar.
The bartender refills, stopping just before Harry.
"You two," he says, pointing to Harry and Ron. "This came for you." And he hands them an envelope.
They take it at the same time and instantly Harry realizes, Portkey.
***
"Harry, 's isn't the Leaky Cauldron."
"Thanks, Ron. I think I had that much figured out."
"Think it's a casino," says Ron.
"Indeed it is," says the young man behind the bar. "Ethan Lovett, at your service. How can I help you gentlemen ring in the new year?" He smiles charmingly.
"You can tell us where we are," says Harry.
"You are in Port Charles, my friend," says an older man, strolling out of the hallway. "At the Haunted Star."
"Allow me to introduce Luke Spencer," says Ethan, nodding his head. "The owner of this fine establishment."
Harry glances around the bar, catching sight of a familiar blond head a few stools down.
"Draco?"
Draco turns around slowly, looking every bit as smug as he ever has. "You got my portkey."
"Yeah," Ron murmurs, surveying the room, probably for Astoria.
"I called in a favor," says Draco. "Luke's wife Tracy is a distant cousin of my Mum. She made some arrangements. My wife found herself otherwise occupied tonight."
"Thoughtful woman, this love of mine," says Luke, pulling Tracy into his arms. She looks less than amused.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," she says, smiling tightly. "At least this time you're not the one committing the infidelity."
"Just encouraging the course of true love, pumpkin," says Luke, giving Draco a nod toward Ron.
Harry turns back to the bartender as Ron and Draco commence a thorough snogging.
"Let me get you something nice and strong, mate," says Ethan and he pulls a few bottles out from behind the bar, fixing a drink for Harry and one for himself.
"Oh, Harry," says Draco, surfacing from Ron's face. "I almost forgot. I brought something for you, too."
Harry turns around with his drink in hand, thinking at first that all the previous shots must have him hallucinating.
"Hallo, Harry," says Neville. "Happy New Year."
Harry grins, puts the drink down, and pulls Neville into his arms.
"Happy New Year, Nev."
[end]
***
ellensmithee!!!!!!!!!!My writing partner of many years and encourager of all sorts of mischief! ♥ ♥ ♥
I have written something for you, and have no excuse for posting it so late today except for my complete inability to write a decent ending. I will not hold it up any longer by trying to come up with a title.
Fandoms: HP, Supernatural, Burn Notice, Numb3rs, Vampire Diaries, White Collar, General Hospital
Characters: Harry, Ron, Draco, Neville, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Fiona Glenanne, Colby Granger, David Sinclair, Damon Salvatore, Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Luke Spencer, Ethan Lovett, Tracy Quartermaine Spencer
Word Count: ~1900
Rating: No rating. Nothing but banter, really.
Summary: Ron and Harry have a New Year's Eve tradition.
A/N: Total birthday gift crack. Just for fun. Enjoy,
ellensmithee! I should probably warn for the cheesy, cheesy ending. (Also, my apologies for only including two female characters. That was completely accidental. AU in almost every way, not the least of which is Luke, Ethan and Tracy spending New Year's Eve at the casino this year.) So it starts off like this: They're getting drunk for New Year's Eve. The shot glasses drop in front of them in pairs, and are drained the same way.
"Didja hear the one about the greasy git who walked into a bar?" Ron says.
"Three times already," says Harry, and they drink.
"And the bartender says, 'Why the ugly face?'!"
Ron cracks himself up with that one up every time. Harry snorts.
The bartender refills.
"There once was a house elf named Enis," says Harry.
"I thought we said limericks were out of play," says Ron.
"Did we?" says Harry. "Bugger." And they drink.
The bartender refills.
***
"A centaur, werewolf, and a hunter are driving over a bridge," says Harry.
"And the hunter says, 'Who's buyin'?', because it's definitely not me."
"Dean! Have a seat, mate."
"What's Dean doing in England?" says Ron.
"Dean's not in England," says Dean.
"England was two pubs ago, Ron," says Harry. "We're in Miami."
"Did I miss New York?" says Ron.
"No, mate. We decided to go up the coast this year."
"Good," says Ron. "I love New York."
"I'll get you a t-shirt for your next birthday," says Dean.
"What?" says Ron.
"Just drink," says Dean. And they empty three shot glasses.
"Where's Sam?" asks Harry.
"He'll catch us in New York," says Dean. "He's helping Bobby hunt something down not too far from there."
The bartender refills.
"I'll have what he's having," says a woman, slinking up to the bar out of nowhere. She nods at Dean as she slides up onto the barstool.
"Why doesn't that ever happen to me?" says Ron.
"You really want to know why women like that don't hit on you at the pub?" says Harry.
"Yeah."
"Because eighty percent of the time, you're too busy shoving your tongue down Draco's throat."
"Point taken."
"Where is blondie, anyway?" says Dean, without taking his eyes off the beautiful woman beside him. A fourth shot glass is placed on the bar.
"With his wife," says Ron. He drinks.
So does everyone else.
"Sucks to be you, dude," says Dean. "So," he addresses the woman, "you have plans this New Year's Eve, gorgeous?"
"Fell through," she says tightly. She opens her purse and there is a flash of something heavy and dark. A Glock.
Harry knows Dean's hooked now.
"Open to making new plans?" says Dean.
The woman smiles. "Always," she says. "Fiona Glenanne."
"Dean Winchester."
The bartender refills.
***
The bar in D.C. has better lighting than the others. Harry watches a fuzzy brown spider skirt the edge of the mirror behind the bar. Luckily, Ron's already too far gone to notice.
"You've got no spirit of adventure, Granger," says the man beside them.
Harry and Ron both whirl around, half-expecting so see Hermione there.
"That's what you call it, David," says the other man, Granger. The bartender sets down two shot glasses in front of them. "I call it high standards."
"What? Because this place is missing the mechanical bull and some guy in a ten gallon hat singing Travis Tritt karaoke?" says David.
"Hey, I only took you there the one time, and I had no idea they even had a karaoke night."
"Right. Well, you're in my territory now. And it's New Year's Eve, so loosen up."
"That's funny, coming from you," says Granger.
Four more shots hit the bar for Harry, Ron, Dean and Fiona. The two men look over.
"Drinkin' game!" says Ron cheerfully. Then his expression falls. "Think I'm losing."
"S'okay, Ron," says Harry. "We've got two more stops before the Leaky Cauldron. You've got time for a comeback."
"How do you play?" says Granger.
"You need a new joke," says Ron. "An' if you repeat yourself, you drink."
"How hard can that be?" says David.
"If you don't repeat yourself, you drink too," says Harry.
"How's that a game?" says Granger.
"S'not," says Dean. "Just an excuse to get sloshed."
"We're in," says David. "Because this guy is just full of bad jokes."
"All that stuff I said about missing you since you moved to D.C.?" says Granger, snorting. "I was totally lying."
The bartender refills.
***
Dean chooses the next bar, in some town in Virginia. Says he has to catch up with a "contact" there. Two brothers, vampires, meet them at the bar. Harry eyes them up in his peripheral vision. They look nothing like Sanguini.
Their shots are all laid out except for Fiona, who is sipping something slowly from a tall glass. Damon leans over the bar beside her.
"Not one to follow the crowd?" he says.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She sips her drink.
Dean snorts.
"Wouldn't you like to tell me?" Damon shoots back.
"Oh, sweetheart," purrs Fiona, "I would put a wooden bullet through your throat before you even had the chance to sweet talk me into another drink."
"I like her, Dean," says Damon.
"Don't even let it cross your mind, dude," says Dean. "I'll stake you if it comes to that."
Damon raises an eyebrow. "I take back everything I ever said about you. Sam's my favorite Winchester." He turns around to survey the bar, leaning back.
"Hey," says Dean, "I only threatened to stake you. Sammy's actually tried to. Lemme introduce you to my friends. Harry, Ron, this is Damon. World class wankstain, but enough of a gossip whore that I let him walk. For now."
"I'm starting to think you don't value our friendship, Dean," says Damon.
"That guy over there is his brother, Stefan. He's the one you want to hang out with. Good guy."
"Boring as hell," mouths Damon.
Before Harry can comment, Fiona is slipping off her barstool, on the phone.
"Michael, where are you?" she says sharply. "Where's Sam?" Brief pause. "Oh, that's just lovely. I'll be right there." She drops her phone into her purse.
"Do you have any C-4?" she asks Dean.
"Excuse me?"
"No, of course you don't. You, vampire boy. What about you?"
"Sorry," says Damon. "My weapons supplier specializes in killing the undead, not the living."
"'ve got some Puking Pastilles in here somewhere!" Ron offers, fishing around in his pocket.
"Probably not helpful, Ron," whispers Harry.
"It was a nice try, sweetheart," says Fiona, and she pinches his cheek before hurrying from the bar.
Ron grins stupidly at Dean. "She called me sweetheart."
"She called me sweetheart, too," says Damon.
"She didn't threaten to shoot me," says Ron.
Damon raises his shot glass in concession.
Everyone drinks.
"Vampires like alcohol?" Harry whispers to Ron.
"Bet Hermione could've told us that," says Ron.
The bartender refills.
***
They finally make it to New York. There's still an hour to go before the ball drops.
"This round's not on me," says Harry.
"Crap, my wallet," says Dean, patting his empty back pocket.
The man in the hat beside him flips the wallet open on the bar. He tips the hat up just far enough to reveal his eyes.
"Impersonating an FBI agent?" he says. "That's not even a good replica."
Dean takes his wallet back. "Comes in handy when I need it. You a cop?"
The man in the hat raises a badge. Dean squints.
"That says 'consultant'."
The man in the hat shrugs.
"Neal, what are you doing?"
Dean turns around. "Now, that guy is an FBI agent." He gives the agent a nod. "This pickpocket with you, Mulder?"
"Do you want to tell him what I found?" says Neal.
"Not really," says Dean.
"Should I be concerned?" asks the agent.
Neal flashes a smile. "Off duty tonight, Peter. Remember?"
"That look says I should be concerned." Peter turns back to Dean. "You with those two?" he says, nodding at Harry and Ron, leaning heavily over the bar.
"Uh, yeah," says Dean. "They're here from England. I'm showing them a good time on New Year's Eve. Right, Ron?" Dean thumps him on the back.
"'ello, gov'nuh!" Ron shouts with a wave.
"Too much, dude," Dean hisses through his teeth.
"Hi," says Harry.
The bartender starts laying out shots.
Peter grabs Neal's arm. "Elizabeth's waiting for us at the table."
"One shot, Peter. Come on. I like these guys," says Neal.
"Just one," says Peter disapprovingly.
They all drink.
Sam shows up about the same time Peter and Neal leave, and Harry's a little glad for it since the first words out of his mouth are about werewolves in the Berkshires.
"That reminds me," says Ron. "What d'you get when you cross a werewolf an' a... a... I think s'a sheep?"
"A new sheep," says Sam and he knocks on the bar.
The bartender refills, stopping just before Harry.
"You two," he says, pointing to Harry and Ron. "This came for you." And he hands them an envelope.
They take it at the same time and instantly Harry realizes, Portkey.
***
"Harry, 's isn't the Leaky Cauldron."
"Thanks, Ron. I think I had that much figured out."
"Think it's a casino," says Ron.
"Indeed it is," says the young man behind the bar. "Ethan Lovett, at your service. How can I help you gentlemen ring in the new year?" He smiles charmingly.
"You can tell us where we are," says Harry.
"You are in Port Charles, my friend," says an older man, strolling out of the hallway. "At the Haunted Star."
"Allow me to introduce Luke Spencer," says Ethan, nodding his head. "The owner of this fine establishment."
Harry glances around the bar, catching sight of a familiar blond head a few stools down.
"Draco?"
Draco turns around slowly, looking every bit as smug as he ever has. "You got my portkey."
"Yeah," Ron murmurs, surveying the room, probably for Astoria.
"I called in a favor," says Draco. "Luke's wife Tracy is a distant cousin of my Mum. She made some arrangements. My wife found herself otherwise occupied tonight."
"Thoughtful woman, this love of mine," says Luke, pulling Tracy into his arms. She looks less than amused.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," she says, smiling tightly. "At least this time you're not the one committing the infidelity."
"Just encouraging the course of true love, pumpkin," says Luke, giving Draco a nod toward Ron.
Harry turns back to the bartender as Ron and Draco commence a thorough snogging.
"Let me get you something nice and strong, mate," says Ethan and he pulls a few bottles out from behind the bar, fixing a drink for Harry and one for himself.
"Oh, Harry," says Draco, surfacing from Ron's face. "I almost forgot. I brought something for you, too."
Harry turns around with his drink in hand, thinking at first that all the previous shots must have him hallucinating.
"Hallo, Harry," says Neville. "Happy New Year."
Harry grins, puts the drink down, and pulls Neville into his arms.
"Happy New Year, Nev."
[end]
***
