For 'Drakos: Thirty Five *Million* Apologies For This Travesty

Er. Happy Birthday, vaguely belated? (You have a real gift that isn't a poorly done drabble, but I'm just a bum about most things, like punctuality and post offices.)

The Wacky Adventures of Theron and Drake, Part III!
or
Brenon Hates His Job, Sometimes, and So Does Finbar
or
...yeah, I got nothin'.
------------

"I like him," Theron slurred into Bren's shoulder.

Brenon rolled his eyes. "No, you don't. You don't like anyone, remember?"

"Oh. Right." Theron let himself be rearranged into a position that was easier to carry; he was completely shitfaced, and reeked of alcohol, ashes, and gravedirt. Bren was glad he didn't know the details of his friend's night out. He was fairly sure he'd be reading about them in the morning paper, anyway. "I forgot."

"I know you did; if you hadn't, I wouldn't have had to post bail on you and your new friend. How's yours?" He turned to Finbar, who had a semi-comatose Drake draped over him.

Finbar gave his companion a disgusted look. "He's not really that drunk; he's just using this as an excuse to grope me. I'd drown him, but I don't feel like getting my clothes wet."

"Er. Switch? Theron's harmless when he's this smashed, I promise."

Finbar dropped Drake so quickly the other man almost cracked his skull on the pavement. Brenon handed off Theron, who muttered something about bats and tuna fish, and picked up the necromancer.

"Mmm, Scandinavian farmhand. Now the boy's safe, but what about you?" Brenon twitched as Drake spoke in his ear.

"Married." He could feel a pair of hands wandering in places they shouldn't have been able to reach, given the way Drake was slung over his shoulder.

"So?"

"Most people don't find clinical insanity attractive," Finbar muttered.

"Just because you don't..."

This was a little ridiculous. He was starting to feel definite sympathy for Finbar; at least Theron had never picked up on the concept of flirting. "Hold on a minute, please." Bren propped Drake up against a wall and ignored the drunken leer the other man gave him. "This'll only take a second. I do this to Mordant all the time; I only wish it worked on Theron."

He pulled a few threads of earth out of the air and looped them into a loose Weave. He tied the ends off with a few threads of air and slapped the whole construction over Drake's mouth. "There! Now behave yourself, or I'll do it to your hands, too, and if you really annoy me, I'll fix your pants so you won't be able to take them off for a week."

Drake tried to open his mouth, but the threads stretched and snapped it shut.

Finbar gave him a curious look as he picked up Drake again. "Magicrafting," he explained. "Arcanists and mages never see it coming." Chances were Drake would figure out how to unravel the gag eventually, but it would hopefully keep him quiet and occupied until they got back to the shop.

The rest of the journey passed in relative peace, aside from the times Finbar had to kick Drake for making insinuating noises through the gag.