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Who: Richard Castle and Meg Masters
What: Castle and Meg discover a joint loss that's rather inconvenient for bar owners- they have both developed an insanely-low tolerance to alcohol.
When: June 11th, evening
Where: The Death Match
Rating: Considering who it is, I'm gonna go with PG-13.

It had started off as a normal night at the Death Match. Business was steady, but somewhat quieter than normal- probably because the castle itself had been quiet for the past few weeks, so there was less need to drown sorrows and forget pain.

Castle had stuck to drinking soda or tea early on in his shift, as he usually had, and feeling envious of people who could have coffee drinks instead, as he usually did. However, as business slowed and the closing hour approached, he and Meg decided it was time to get out the tequila shots.

This, it turned out, was going to make it a very not normal night, though neither of them could have foreseen how it was going to end.

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Meg kicked the door to the kitchen shut behind her, returning with a grin and a bunch of sliced up limes as well as some of the best sea salt she could wish up. Even if it wasn't ideal for her to consume, tequila shots sucked without salt. She'd put up with the burn as long as it was the good stuff.

"Ready for me to drink you under the table again?" She quipped, grabbing the bottle of ice cold, nicely aged silver tequila and pouring their first round with a challenging smirk.

Castle eyed the bottle and glasses appreciatively.

"I really don't know how you do it," he replied. "But I'm going to one-up you one of these days, I promise. Shall I pour?"

"It's a gift," She shrugged gave him a coy look as she filled two double-shot glasses to the brim. "You pour the next round, lightweight."

With that, she licked her hand, poured some salt on it, and passed the shaker over to him.

"Damn right it is. Your liver must be made of iron."

And without further ado, he did the same- and the usual buzz settled over him. Except this time, it came much faster and harder than it usually did, and he actually wheeled back.

"Holy crap. What kind of tequi' is this again? It's... not potent, but man if I don't feel smashed already..."

"Or something," she quipped as she licked the salt off and threw back her shot. Not that it's actually... her liver. Oops.

Meg gave Castle an incredulous look. "Oh come on, you can't already be -hic-"

She swayed a little and stopped mid sentence, looking utterly shocked.

"Shit, me too," she mumbled, picking up the bottle and squinting at it, then laughing hysterically, "I dunno. Here. Pour s'more."

Castle swallowed and took the bottle, her laughter becoming infectious.

"Now who's the lightweight, huh?" he challenged, pouring them each another shot. "Thank you, sir, may I have another? I do believe I will."

Something at the back of his mind was trying to tell him he should be more alarmed than he was, but if Meg was already smashed, too... maybe it was a chance for him to win for once. The hangover the next morning would be so worth it.

However, Shot Number Two did give him pause.

"Holy CRAP. I think I'm done," he mumbled. "Because... wow... this is some potent shit."

"Hey," she gasped, giggling, "I'm no lightweight."

She took her second shot in stride - or so she'd like to think. In reality, she was slurring and swaying.

"I do believe I'll have another, sir. No no - thank you!"

Not to be outdone, Meg very foolishly poured herself a third and slammed it back. When she found herself on her ass a few seconds later, she wasn't really sure how that had happened, but it was apparently hilarious, judging by her hysterical fit of laughter.

"See! I WIN!" she proclaimed... from the floor. For emphasis, she grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins from the cabinet and threw them in the air like confetti, grinning like an idiot.

Edited 2014-06-21 17:32 (UTC)

Castle decided to forego the third after seeing the reaction from Meg; however, that didn't stop him from laughing as well as he went to help her up, dodging around the thrown napkins.

"Man, we're both wasted already," he grinned. "We should do something fun, you know, while the mood is right."

She took his hand and pushed up off the ground, stumbling a little depite the guidance and laughing as she leaned on the bar to hold herself up.

Meg pointed at him, closing one eye to give herself a break from the double vision. "You know what," she slurred, "I think you're right."

"But what, though..." Castle looked thoughtful. "Something fun. Something to commemorate our beautiful friendship."

Meg snorted and began cracking up all on her own, and it was a few moments before she was able to articulate the reason for the all the giggles.

"Speaking of our beautiful friendship. Remember - when we met - I was wearing that stupid leopard catsuit that the castle wouldn't let me take off? Or... well. I mean it did but - Ha. Whew."

Castle blinked a few times, then began cracking up.

"Oh, man, I'd almost forgotten about that!" He took a moment to catch his breath. "What an impression to make on someone, huh? We should do something like that again- except this time, we'd get to choose what we wear. And for how long. Nobody has to know..."

"I do tend to make a hell of a first impression!" She barely got through the lame joke before cracking up again. Seriously, hell puns? Yep, she was shitfaced.

"We totally should. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm," she mused, tapping her chin, suddenly very serious. This was a very important decision, after all.

"Hell..." It took Castle a moment to get it before he started laughing again. "Hell, because right, ha, demon, yes!" He had a grin spread on his face.

"I should be a horse. Alexis would probably be more embarrassed than anything, but what are dads for?"

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