So I don't even know if this is heading toward smut or not. Probably, if only because my unimaginative summary seems to imply it, so why the hell not. I just got inspired because, hell, it's Delvin, and I felt like deploying this DB on the meme. Summary: In lieu of facing nightmares, Delvin decides to close down the Flagon with the company of a few dozen flagons. Lucky him, the Dragonborn's not much for sleeping either. Tags: char:delvin, char:f!db, race:breton, kink:fluff -----
Vekel smirks, leaning on one hand planted on the bartop while the other pushes the filmy layer on its surface around in lazy circles with an equally dirty rag, prompting the thought, once again, that at the very least the ale is the cleanest thing in here. Not that Delvin, sitting pretty as ever in the fuggy miasma of old stale booze and stagnant second-hand water, is opposed to a bit of muck - not given the things he's had to crawl through in his line of work. "Not sleeping anytime soon, eh, Delvin?"
Delvin matches Vekel's sneering look tit for tat, just two gentlemen appearing to be getting on just fine, all smiles, light and meaningless conversation. Not one occasionally likeable arsehole annoyed at a more frequently likeable, likewise arsehole who doesn't, in fact, want to talk about his trouble sleeping. It's late, they're the only two left awake, and Vekel wants to get to bed as much as Delvin never wants to go near one if he can help it.
Well, not alone and not to sleep, at any rate, but technically speaking he can do certain things on any handy surface, and luckily the whole world consists of one big handy surface called "the ground."
Delvin just shrugs, and takes another swig of ale. "I'll sleep when I'm dead, mate."
Vekel's mouth twitches irritably, but otherwise he maintains the amiable facade - even without the rest of the guild around, pretending nice becomes habit after a while - and shakes his head, sighing somewhat dramatically. "You look like you're halfway there. Tell you what, in the interest of us both getting half a night's sleep, I'll make you a deal: drink as much as you want for free, so long as you promise to be passed out drunk within the hour."
Another shrug, another swig. "Ain't enough of this swill in all of Tamriel to do that, and you can quote me on that." Delvin raps his knuckles absently on the bar. "I'll tell you what, in the interest of us both being sane by morning, why don't you shuffle off to bed and leave me to my own devices? I'll watch the bar."
"No dice, Delvin. I'll be penniless by dawn."
Delvin snorts. "Now that's just insultin'. Would I steal guild money?"
"No, but you'd guzzle guild ale, and then where will I be?"
A soft scrape of fingers over stone alerts both of them to someone coming in from the cistern, the tiny noise so routine neither has to look up from their glaring contest to see who's come to join them. By the time she's halfway to the bar, though, they do anyway, both mentally conceding that their newest guildmate is a finer sight than the other.
Case smiles as if fully aware of this fact before either has a chance to extend the usual greetings, and waves at them by way of wriggling her tanned fingers at the world in general. Her footfalls, as always, are silent and sure, not the shuffling one might expect. "Delvin, Vekel," she says lightly, voice warm and pleasantly husky. Case slides her fingers over the bartop and slips onto the stool next to Delvin, dropping her pack on the floor at her feet.
"Aw, now Vex is gonna feel all neglected," Delvin teases.
Case punches him hard in the shoulder with perfect aim. "Don't play, Vex isn't here."
"Yeah she is, she's right over there," he insists, pointing futilely. "Don't just ignore her, now."
Poor Judgment, (1/?)
Summary: In lieu of facing nightmares, Delvin decides to close down the Flagon with the company of a few dozen flagons. Lucky him, the Dragonborn's not much for sleeping either.
Tags: char:delvin, char:f!db, race:breton, kink:fluff
-----
Vekel smirks, leaning on one hand planted on the bartop while the other pushes the filmy layer on its surface around in lazy circles with an equally dirty rag, prompting the thought, once again, that at the very least the ale is the cleanest thing in here. Not that Delvin, sitting pretty as ever in the fuggy miasma of old stale booze and stagnant second-hand water, is opposed to a bit of muck - not given the things he's had to crawl through in his line of work. "Not sleeping anytime soon, eh, Delvin?"
Delvin matches Vekel's sneering look tit for tat, just two gentlemen appearing to be getting on just fine, all smiles, light and meaningless conversation. Not one occasionally likeable arsehole annoyed at a more frequently likeable, likewise arsehole who doesn't, in fact, want to talk about his trouble sleeping. It's late, they're the only two left awake, and Vekel wants to get to bed as much as Delvin never wants to go near one if he can help it.
Well, not alone and not to sleep, at any rate, but technically speaking he can do certain things on any handy surface, and luckily the whole world consists of one big handy surface called "the ground."
Delvin just shrugs, and takes another swig of ale. "I'll sleep when I'm dead, mate."
Vekel's mouth twitches irritably, but otherwise he maintains the amiable facade - even without the rest of the guild around, pretending nice becomes habit after a while - and shakes his head, sighing somewhat dramatically. "You look like you're halfway there. Tell you what, in the interest of us both getting half a night's sleep, I'll make you a deal: drink as much as you want for free, so long as you promise to be passed out drunk within the hour."
Another shrug, another swig. "Ain't enough of this swill in all of Tamriel to do that, and you can quote me on that." Delvin raps his knuckles absently on the bar. "I'll tell you what, in the interest of us both being sane by morning, why don't you shuffle off to bed and leave me to my own devices? I'll watch the bar."
"No dice, Delvin. I'll be penniless by dawn."
Delvin snorts. "Now that's just insultin'. Would I steal guild money?"
"No, but you'd guzzle guild ale, and then where will I be?"
A soft scrape of fingers over stone alerts both of them to someone coming in from the cistern, the tiny noise so routine neither has to look up from their glaring contest to see who's come to join them. By the time she's halfway to the bar, though, they do anyway, both mentally conceding that their newest guildmate is a finer sight than the other.
Case smiles as if fully aware of this fact before either has a chance to extend the usual greetings, and waves at them by way of wriggling her tanned fingers at the world in general. Her footfalls, as always, are silent and sure, not the shuffling one might expect. "Delvin, Vekel," she says lightly, voice warm and pleasantly husky. Case slides her fingers over the bartop and slips onto the stool next to Delvin, dropping her pack on the floor at her feet.
"Aw, now Vex is gonna feel all neglected," Delvin teases.
Case punches him hard in the shoulder with perfect aim. "Don't play, Vex isn't here."
"Yeah she is, she's right over there," he insists, pointing futilely. "Don't just ignore her, now."