Ellie had totally approved of this outing, which was the important (and kind of scary) part.
Not that Devon expected anything wild to happen, and he had no plans to do anything wild, not with his leg still a bit tender from a certain squid trying to make friends with him only a few days earlier.
But Chuck had really wanted to do this, and Devon didn't want to buck tradition and not have a bachelor party. He was a bit wary about any potential strippers, but the night was young and there was alcohol.
Which came in handy every time he remembered that he was getting married in two days.
Chase knew Devon from the Clinic and truth be told, he could use a night like this, where he didn't really have to worry about anything in particular. He hadn't brought a gift, but he was definitely there. He approached Devon with a drink in hand, offering it up to him. "Here, have a drink," he offered.
"Hey, thanks," Devon said, taking the drink without protest. He'd learned early on in the evening that everyone was pretty hellbent on getting him drunk, which he was okay with at the moment. "Thanks for coming, man."
Chase gave a nod of his head and figured that he had to do his part. He'd never had a bachelor party himself, but he never would have turned down the prospect of having a bit of a wild and crazy night for himself. "So, the big day's soon, huh?" he pointed out with a hint of a broad grin. "Nervous?"
Harry wasn't at all sure at going to a stag night - or bachelor party as they were calling it - at the Catscratch club simply because he wasn't at all sure about the Catscratch club. But there weren't really any pubs here, merely places that were similar and he was happy to go out for a night with what essentially mostly the male clinic staff.
He certainly wasn't going to complain about not having to pay for any of it and decent drink - and the one thing all stag nights were supposed to contain was a lot of drink. After a day at sea he was enjoying getting slowly drunk.
There were a few things that House did very well, and bachelor parties were one of them. He was a big fan of being a guest at bachelor parties, since he never intended to have one of his own. He'd thrown more than one for Wilson, who had sworn after the last that if he ever got married again he was eloping just to avoid it. (Which was bullshit, of course, deep down he was just dying to get plastered and do body shots off of a stripper named Caramel.)
He barely even knew the guy the party was for - a doctor in the clinic, looked like some kind of health nut. And House was pretty sure that he'd just been invited by default (kind of like in elementary school when you have to give valentines to all the kids in the class, even the dweebs). But that didn't stop him from going, because even though he knew it would pale in comparison to the ones he'd thrown in the day, thanks to the stupid island, it was something, and he'd had a shitty week. Month. Year
( ... )
Chase wandered up to House and figured he had to touch base with him and he felt like keeping all his options open anyway. If he needed to crash with House and Cameron a while, he wanted to know he could. "How drunk are you?" Chase asked warily.
"Not drunk enough," House said with a note of mock cheerfulness. "But then, I rarely am. You know, I feel like I should apologize for not throwing you a proper bachelor party. I could have done a hell of a lot better than - " He gestured vaguely around. "This."
Chase snorted at that, taking a long look at the madness going on around them. "Why, so you could get me liquored up enough that I embarrassed myself and you could have blackmail on me forever?" he suggested, sipping at his vodka. "No thanks. I could always throw one for you if you and Cameron ever tie the knot."
Combeferre didn't know Devon particularly well, only enough to passingly make their hellos at the clinic, but when he had received the invitation, he had thought, whyever not? Even though they had had few conversations, he found Devon to be a fine enough fellow - the sort, he suspected, that anyone and everyone found to be a genial spirit - and his impending marriage certainly something to be celebrated.
He was drinking beer, which was unusual for him, and not saying much, which was not. The beer seemed to fit the mood well, though. And for all his quiet, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he watched the gaiety with mild amusement.
Harry had a beer of his own by the time he went over to Combeferre, who he didn't know all that well, but this party seemed like a good time to remedy that. "Hello. Enjoying the party?"
"It's an interesting sort of party," Combeferre said with a nod and a wry grin. The concept had not been unfamiliar to him, this celebration of a man's last day of freedom, but the near-formality of the title bachelor party he had found somewhat strange. "Dr. Sullivan, am I right?"
He nodded. "Harry." It wasn't really the sort of party that lent itself to titles and surnames. "Have you been to many bachelor parties? Or stag nights," he added, not sure what name Dr Combeferre might know it by, given his accent.
Henry didn't know any of the compound clinic staff all that well, having only just picked up a shift there himself, but he wasn't about to turn down an invitation to a bachelor party. It still struck him as kind of odd that there was a goddamn strip club, of all things, on the island - not that he minded, of course, since what red-blooded male in his right mind didn't appreciate a place like that? He did wonder, a little, at the collective psyche of the island population making the club a viable and successful business, but hey, everyone knew that sex sells.
So he was there, a beer in the hand that had only three fingers, not his first time at the place though he was by no means what you might call a 'regular', ready and willing to enjoy the hell out of the evening.
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Not that Devon expected anything wild to happen, and he had no plans to do anything wild, not with his leg still a bit tender from a certain squid trying to make friends with him only a few days earlier.
But Chuck had really wanted to do this, and Devon didn't want to buck tradition and not have a bachelor party. He was a bit wary about any potential strippers, but the night was young and there was alcohol.
Which came in handy every time he remembered that he was getting married in two days.
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He certainly wasn't going to complain about not having to pay for any of it and decent drink - and the one thing all stag nights were supposed to contain was a lot of drink. After a day at sea he was enjoying getting slowly drunk.
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He barely even knew the guy the party was for - a doctor in the clinic, looked like some kind of health nut. And House was pretty sure that he'd just been invited by default (kind of like in elementary school when you have to give valentines to all the kids in the class, even the dweebs). But that didn't stop him from going, because even though he knew it would pale in comparison to the ones he'd thrown in the day, thanks to the stupid island, it was something, and he'd had a shitty week. Month. Year ( ... )
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He was drinking beer, which was unusual for him, and not saying much, which was not. The beer seemed to fit the mood well, though. And for all his quiet, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he watched the gaiety with mild amusement.
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So he was there, a beer in the hand that had only three fingers, not his first time at the place though he was by no means what you might call a 'regular', ready and willing to enjoy the hell out of the evening.
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