Blue Skies Prompt #27: The Old Ball and Chain (Tangled)
Title: The Old Ball and Chain
Author: mrstater
Prompt: #27, freedom
Fandom: Tangled
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Eugene, Maximus, the Captain of the Guard, and the Pub Thugs
Rating & Warnings: rated PG-13 for drinking, innuendo and crude behavior
Word Count: 612
Summary: Just another (stag) night at the pub…
"Drink up, Rider," says Hookhand, clapping me on the back--thankfully, not with his hook hand--as the barkeep plonks a frothy pint on the table in front of me.
"It's Fitzherbert now, actually," I remind him, good-naturedly, then turn my attention to more important matters. Like beer. "Don't mind if I do! Gentlemen."
I raise my mug to toast Hookhand and the rest of the guys who turned up for my stag party at the Snuggly Duckling. Not that they wouldn't have turned up at the Snuggly Duckling even if it wasn't my stag night. They cheer as I take a gigantic swig, and again when I slam the pint cup down on the table, and yet a third time when I wipe the foam from my mouth with the back of my hand. Did I mention they'd been here since happy hour when I strode in a little after ten with Maximus and the frog and the Captain of the Guard, who's pretending like he's my best bud but I'm pretty sure is just along because he thinks I'm going to get up to something unseemly and have one last chance to arrest me before I become Prince Consort, and announced I was getting married in the morning?
"What's that beer taste like, Flynnherbert?" asks Vladimir; clearly Hookhand isn't the only one who hasn't quite adjusted to my new identity.
"Like piss," Günter mutters, sipping at an appletini.
I'm about to agree with him when Atilla bellows, his voice echoing inside his helmet, "Like freedom!"
"FREEDOM, FREEDOM, FREEDOM!" chant the clientele of the Snuggly Duckling, like a stadium full of football fans or Scots on the field of battle, only this bunch so wouldn't be seen in skirts. Except for maybe Günter…
I just shake my head and tilt my chair back on two legs and I prop my boots propped on the table and call for the barkeep to bring me an appletini like Günter's having, because this really is piss-poor beer, and watch with a grin as my stag night dissolves into just another night at the Snuggly Duckling. Ulf's pantomiming x-rated lyrics to a raunchy song Hookhand strikes up on the piano, and Shorty wants to know why there aren't any strumpets, because a stag party's just a sag party if there aren't any strumpets, he says--though having seen a few of Corona's strumpets, I'm inclined to think it'd be a sag party if they were at it. He shuts up when Atilla comes out of the kitchen brandishing a tray of cupcakes decorated to look like boobs. Big Nose isn't here at all, because he's home with the little lady, and I'm no prude, but the longer I look around this joint, the more I think he's got the right idea.
"You know what, boys?" I say with a glance up at Maximus, who snorts disapproval and crosses his front hooves over his chest, and the frog, who's hiding in Maximus' mane so the barkeep won't find him and turn him into tomorrow's special, and the Captain, who quickly hides one of the titcakes behind his back and doesn't realize he's got nipple-colored frosting in his mustache. "I'm glad this is my last night of freedom."
The guys are great for a laugh, but carousing at the tavern just doesn't hold the appeal it did before I got used to spending my evenings in the palace, working jigsaw puzzles and doing arts and crafts and reading novels and possibly making out with Rapunzel.
Though I might just have to ask her to bake me some of these boob cupcakes. Cause they're almost as tasty as the real thing.
Author: mrstater
Prompt: #27, freedom
Fandom: Tangled
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Eugene, Maximus, the Captain of the Guard, and the Pub Thugs
Rating & Warnings: rated PG-13 for drinking, innuendo and crude behavior
Word Count: 612
Summary: Just another (stag) night at the pub…
"Drink up, Rider," says Hookhand, clapping me on the back--thankfully, not with his hook hand--as the barkeep plonks a frothy pint on the table in front of me.
"It's Fitzherbert now, actually," I remind him, good-naturedly, then turn my attention to more important matters. Like beer. "Don't mind if I do! Gentlemen."
I raise my mug to toast Hookhand and the rest of the guys who turned up for my stag party at the Snuggly Duckling. Not that they wouldn't have turned up at the Snuggly Duckling even if it wasn't my stag night. They cheer as I take a gigantic swig, and again when I slam the pint cup down on the table, and yet a third time when I wipe the foam from my mouth with the back of my hand. Did I mention they'd been here since happy hour when I strode in a little after ten with Maximus and the frog and the Captain of the Guard, who's pretending like he's my best bud but I'm pretty sure is just along because he thinks I'm going to get up to something unseemly and have one last chance to arrest me before I become Prince Consort, and announced I was getting married in the morning?
"What's that beer taste like, Flynnherbert?" asks Vladimir; clearly Hookhand isn't the only one who hasn't quite adjusted to my new identity.
"Like piss," Günter mutters, sipping at an appletini.
I'm about to agree with him when Atilla bellows, his voice echoing inside his helmet, "Like freedom!"
"FREEDOM, FREEDOM, FREEDOM!" chant the clientele of the Snuggly Duckling, like a stadium full of football fans or Scots on the field of battle, only this bunch so wouldn't be seen in skirts. Except for maybe Günter…
I just shake my head and tilt my chair back on two legs and I prop my boots propped on the table and call for the barkeep to bring me an appletini like Günter's having, because this really is piss-poor beer, and watch with a grin as my stag night dissolves into just another night at the Snuggly Duckling. Ulf's pantomiming x-rated lyrics to a raunchy song Hookhand strikes up on the piano, and Shorty wants to know why there aren't any strumpets, because a stag party's just a sag party if there aren't any strumpets, he says--though having seen a few of Corona's strumpets, I'm inclined to think it'd be a sag party if they were at it. He shuts up when Atilla comes out of the kitchen brandishing a tray of cupcakes decorated to look like boobs. Big Nose isn't here at all, because he's home with the little lady, and I'm no prude, but the longer I look around this joint, the more I think he's got the right idea.
"You know what, boys?" I say with a glance up at Maximus, who snorts disapproval and crosses his front hooves over his chest, and the frog, who's hiding in Maximus' mane so the barkeep won't find him and turn him into tomorrow's special, and the Captain, who quickly hides one of the titcakes behind his back and doesn't realize he's got nipple-colored frosting in his mustache. "I'm glad this is my last night of freedom."
The guys are great for a laugh, but carousing at the tavern just doesn't hold the appeal it did before I got used to spending my evenings in the palace, working jigsaw puzzles and doing arts and crafts and reading novels and possibly making out with Rapunzel.
Though I might just have to ask her to bake me some of these boob cupcakes. Cause they're almost as tasty as the real thing.