bakerstreet | (no subject)

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The HAUNTED HOUSE Meme

For whatever reason, you've ended up in a creepy house - possibly in the middle of nowhere, possibly not. Nothing else to do but explore, and see where you've ended up.

... did you hear that?

INSTRUCTIONS
- Tag with your character's name and fandom in the subject line!
- Find other awesome people to tag!
- Tag them by rolling the RNG for a choice of prompt!
- GET SCARING.

PROMPTS
1 - Car Broke Down
2 - Poor Choice of Vacation Home
3 - Everywhere Else Was Booked Up
4 - New Home
5 - Lost a Bet
6 - Ancestral Home/Grandma's Got Weird Taste in Wall Decoration
7 - Secluded in the Woods
8 - You're the Ghost!
9 - Free Roll/Combine

By the very nature of this being a scary/horror meme, there may be triggers within, so tread carefully!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

That's weird, man.

[Beat.]

Sorry. I guess it was kind of weird to ask.

No, no, it's fine.

Drink a double for me.

Was already planning on it. Maybe a triple.

[He goes into the kitchen, finds a glass, and fills it with bourbon. There's a brief, self-conscious glance over his shoulder at Jim, then he throws half of it back in one go, letting it burn down his throat. He sets the glass back down, then refills it.]

That's the stuff.

[Jim waves a hand at McCoy's look--he doesn't mind. He can't enjoy a drink anymore but that doesn't mean everyone has to suffer.]

You'd think there would be some way for a dead guy to have a drink. Spirits for spirits, right?

[...Yes, he just said that.]

Can you do me a favor and never say anything like that ever again?

...I can try.

Thanks. You're swell.

[He swirls the bourbon, then drinks half the glass in one go before reaching for the bottle and refilling it.]

Better.

[Idly, Jim reaches for the bottle. It takes him two tries to grasp the neck and pick it up. He's still learning how all of this works.]

I guess it's heavier than the sheets.

I'm amazed you can pick anything up. Didn't think ghosts could.

I have to try. Really make an effort, and concentrate. It's not like when I was--

[He corrects himself, doesn't want to say when I was alive out loud, doesn't want to remind them both he's dead.]

Not like before, when I didn't even have to think about it. Now it takes some doing.

['When I was alive.'

McCoy reaches for the bourbon and refills the glass.]

Maybe it's like riding a bike. You never forget.

[He eyes the refill, but doesn't say anything. He didn't worry much about Bones' drinking when he was alive; it feels disloyal to say anything now. The guy's got good reason, he figures.

He knows, had their fates been reversed, he'd have crawled into a bottle and never come out.]

I guess. All I can do is try and see how it goes.

Don't use anything breakable of mine for practice or else I'll hire a priest.

You need two priests.

[Beat.]

...You know. Like in that really old movie. An old priest and a young priest. Except I'm not the devil so you really don't need to cast me out.

Don't break any of my shit and I won't have to start telling people you are.

- how the hell did you even know that, anyway?

That's why I was practicing on your sheets, I can't break those.

...Do you think there's ever much to do in Iowa? I had a lot of time on my hands to watch old, old movies.

[Sigh. He can't win. Taking another swig of his drink, he considers.]

I dunno, didn't you ever harvest corn or something?

Well, first of all, the harvest season's only a month or so, in the fall.

And, uh. We grew wheat, not corn. Pretty sure I've mentioned that a few hundred times the last seven years or so.

Like I ever listened.

[And now Jim is dead.

His hand clenches on the glass, and he finishes off the glass in one more go before refilling it again. His hand is shaking now, some of the bourbon splashing on the counter.]

Fuck.

[He sets the bottle down and reaches for a towel, cleaning it, because the spilled bourbon is the problem, obviously.]

Bones...

[He sighs. What can he even do anymore? Nothing more than this, right here, hanging around and watching his best friend drink himself into oblivion.]

What?

[He throws the sodden paper towel away and turns to face the other man, arms crossed over his chest.]

[He goes back and forth, searching for the right answer, and he finally decides the most honest one is best.]

I want to help but I don't know what to do.

Be quite frank, Jim, I don't think there's anything anyone can do.

[He looks down at his glass, swirling it.]

Even this isn't helping as much as I want.

I'm sorry, Bones.

[He hangs his head.]

This isn't what I wanted for you.

[There's a bark of laughter, even if it's not actually ... happy.]

You think this is what I wanted for you, Jim? D -

[The word catches in his throat, and he clutches the glass tighter, knuckles going white.]

- at - at thirty? Hell, no!