bakerstreet | (no subject)

( Keeping up the billionaire playboy front was easier when Bruce wasn't trying to extend it past Gotham, but apparently Alfred had other ideas; something about "Bruce Wayne has to spend a lot of money to keep his image up, so why not have proof he took a trip?"

To be fair, it was Bruce's idea to go to Vegas. The more extravagant and ridiculous the plan, the more time Bruce Wayne the image could spend out of the spotlight. His idea was that one day in Vegas could be played up--that, hey, Bruce Wayne would be in the city for a week after arriving, even though he'd actually be taking an unmarked jet home the next day. It'd be easy, Bruce thought, faking the drinking and partying, being the billionaire playboy with the charm and the schmooze--and it'd be easy to play pool with a blind man, especially someone with a sense of humour and a smooth voice.

But this is where his memories get fuzzy.

It was a stupid, elementary mistake. Someone at the party had drugged some of the drinks. And while Bruce has some vague feeling that last night could've actually been fun (they dared each other, he thinks--he has a hazy image of riding grocery carts down inclined roads), any of that fun was cancelled the moment he woke up spooning that same man with a very real ring on his finger.

Which wouldn't be so bad if the guy didn't have a matching one.

They aren't naked, thank God. But in the grand scheme of things, maybe a one night stand would've been better than marriage. The horror starts to sink in: Bruce Wayne, marrying another man in Las Vegas after a wild night of passion!

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bruce doesn't even know his name. )

Hey. ( His head is killing him, but now isn't the time to bitch about it. He shifts, removing his arms from around his apparent husband's waist. With a somewhat heavy hand, Bruce shakes the man's shoulder. ) Wake up.

We have a problem.

[ Matt doesn't often stray from the familiar borders of Hell's Kitchen, let alone New York City at all. But sometimes, every now and then, it's a necessary sacrifice. The man the Daredevil seeks is a gambler, a dabbler in all sorts of illegal trades, and it so happens that he's made a base in the City of Sin. A fitting place for a Devil to travel to.

It's an easy hustle.

Matt dresses well, he's good looking, and he's blind. People like to humor him and open up to him, and it gives him a chance to sit at the high roller tables and just listen. He's good at a bluff and better at hearing others'. After winning at a high-stakes card game (thereby putting a dent in his target's plans and throwing him off), Matt decides to kill some time at the pool table. To keep up appearances before he can slip away and put on the mask.

The night doesn't go as planned. It starts off well enough. He finds a pool partner that he can impress with his "good luck" and as the night goes on, Matt loses track of himself. Alcohol's always had more effect on him than other people, and, no, it's true, someone had added a little something extra to the drinks. It hits him hard, and fast, and makes him a different person. It's probably good that the entire night is blocked from him.

Being jostled awake, Matt's senses try to go on high alert. It results in the worst sort of headache and a hollow memory. The voice speaking to him is fuzzy, distorted as the darkness around Matt swirls. His hand grips at the bed as if it might anchor him and - not his room, he thinks, suddenly. His senses come slamming back into him.

Matt thinks he might throw up. ]

Yeah. [ His mouth is dry. He sits up carefully, but there's no grace as he tries to climb his way off the bed. ] Bathroom?

To your-- [ He can't see. Bruce slips off the same side of the bed, gets to his feet despite his aching everything to hold the other man steady as he stands. ] I'll point you to it.

[ The man should feel the ring on his finger, right? If he didn't already, Bruce makes it a point to let his own ring touch his shoulder as he turns his body just enough. ]

Just take about ten steps, feel for the doorknob. [ A pause. ] Unless you want me to lead.

Edited 2017-05-29 05:49 (UTC)

[ A simple left or right would have sufficed. Though their voices seem to be echoing louder than usual off the surrounding things, making everything a mess. The weight on his finger is the least registered thing right now. ]

No. [ He just needs some water and to purge his insides and he'll be just fine. Honest. Matt's steps are heavy and shaky as he moves, hands out until he gropes the knob and stumbles in. He'll apologize later, but right now he's dropping to his knees before retching into the toilet. First this, then questions. ]

[ Bruce doesn't need to follow him to know what's going on.

He looks around their room and finds it in relative neatness. Funny, actually, how the entire incident is a lot less worse than it could be, but he fidgets with the ring on his finger regardless, unsure how to take its weight.

There're 'just married' shirts on the hotel room sofa.

It makes him frown, makes him furrow his brows, but Bruce makes to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator anyway, pouring its contents into one of the crystals left on the counter for what looks to be an unopened bottle of champagne.

This is what he offers to the man once he's out of the bathroom. ] Drink up.

[ A bottle would be fine. Matt feels like he can drain a resevoire right now. He takes the glass anyway, and there's a clink of metal against it that makes him pause. The ping is a little sharp, but what makes him frown is what caused it. He drinks the water before he feels at his hand. Luckily, even like this, Matt's smart enough to put it all together.

Oh.

He's gonna need more water. ]

It, uh. [ He has to stop and catch up his thoughts. ] I'm a lawyer.

Danny's right about giggly drunk, as serious as he's trying to be. They were in Las Vegas for job, if a brief one-- in fact everything wrapped up quicker than they could hope. The flight out wasn't until tomorrow and neither one of them were exactly the gambling type, or the show type for that matter.

But the mini bar had been well stocked, so had the hotel bar downstairs for that matter, and the one down the street that may or may not have been part of a strip club.

There was also a convenient walk-in chapel next door, which is where they'd ended up, mostly because Danny was curious after Matt had made a teasing remark about how they might as well get this out of the way since they were practically attached at the hip anyway.

"Do you think they've got a guy that dresses up as Elvis?"

If Danny's at giggly, then Matt is a lost cause. His senses lost him a long time ago ... But it's sort of nice. They live their lives too seriously (Matt especially), why not have some fun in the funnest city in the country? Matt's all too fine with letting Danny drag him from bar to bar to bar, letting him pour drinks down his throat in exchange for messy kisses. It's learning that a couple nearby at the last bar had just gotten hitched that prompted Matt to make the joke.

In a way, he's not sorry about it.

Vegas is easy like that. No one really needs to know beyond them, and despite their drunkenness, they clearly want this. Even if neither of them admit it.

At Danny's question, Matt just giggles, pressing his nose to his partner's cheek. "Megan's gonna be mad at us," he says.

[ooc: this is a horrible idea, so we must do it! Yes?]

( Got drunk, married a mermaid, #justvegasthings )

(( 21+ ))

"Rosé all day was a terrible idea," Chanel groaned into the pillow. The cheap pillow, poly fiber, lumpy and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. The cheap pillowcase was scratchy under her skin. God, it was probably three hundred thread count if that. If she broke out from direct contact with cheap detergent and middle class soccer mom quality linens, heads would roll.

She sat up, shoving hair out of her face, putting aside that she had certainly not washed off the makeup from the night before and took in the room. "Did I die? Is this hell? Is this a Holiday Inn?" Her eyes travelled over the suspiciously stained comforter to the lump beside her.

With angry determination, she yanked back the covers, her face twisting into a rictus of horror. Someone killed a hobo and put him in bed with her. At a discount hotel. She screamed and attempted to shove him out of bed, caught sight of the glint of the wedding band on her finger- and on the finger of the dead hobo- screamed again and shoved harder.

Vegas had a way of getting under his skin, and with the night he had- a blur of liquor, blackjack, and a pretty blonde -he was more than happy to sleep away the morning.

That was all sharply dashed when he was abruptly awoken by the sheets getting torn away under the sound of a pitched, girlish scream. Logan had the impression of golden hair and a mouth smeared with YSL red before he was shoved right off the bed and onto the beige carpet in a tangle of linens.

"What the fuck?" floated up from the floor, groggy still. Jesus Christ, what had he drank last night?

The hobo was alive. Chanel wasn't sure if that was better or worse than waking up to a dead Vegas hobo. She peered slowly over the side of the bed, eyes narrowing. He smelled like he cost taxpayers money. Snatching up the bedside lamp, she brandished it menacingly over his head, "Listen up, you sad, hairy man with impressively muscled arms. I don't know what you talked me into when I was wearing rosé colored glasses last night, but you better start talking!"

Was it a wedding officiated by Elvis? Oh god, it was wasn't it. He looked like an Elvis fan. She despaired. Chad Radwell would never marry her now that she wasn't a wedding virgin.

Logan squinted up at the wild-eyed girl through his haze. He made quite a tidy sum last night, he remembered that much, an amount that generally caught attention. Had it caught hers? Wouldn't be the first time, though a lamp-wielding, screaming broad was a new angle to take the morning after.

"Stop yelling- who the fuck are you?" He spied his jeans crumpled on the floor and started for them, ignoring the threat of the lamp.

She lobbed the lamp at his head. "Look, lifestyles of the poor and unshaven, I didn't tell you to move." Chanel narrowed her eyes and slid off the other side of the bed, picking up the one remaining lamp and menaced at him with it.

"I am Chanel Oberlin, incoming President of the Kappa Kappa Tau sorority and you had better have a very good explanation for this-" She took one hand off her lamp to brandish the plain gold band there. "And an even better explanation for why you brought me to a budget-" she said the word as though it pained her, "-hotel with sheets so low in thread count they match your weekly paycheck!"

[ Mariko had never been to Vegas before. Both Logan and Yukio told her she needed to visit at least once, give herself some time off from running the company (which is what she'd been doing for months straight). She finally agreed and was pleasantly surprised by it all. It looked better than it did in the movies, bigger and brighter. Noisier, too.

But then she's waking up in the morning, head pounding and not really remembering much of anything. She groans and brings a hand up to her face. She feels something on her finger, hard to miss when it also rubs against her skin. She squints her eyes open and makes out a ring.

On her ring finger.

Like a wedding band.

Her stomach flops and she's slowly turning to see who she's in bed with. There's a wave of relief when she sees Logan there and yet, she's grabbing one hand and then another -- there's a ring.

No.

They... ]

Shit!

[ It's been good to pry Mariko away from home for a while. Logan's of the opinion that a scenery change is just one of those necessary things in life, vital to living. The peace he's been afforded hasn't curbed his wanderlust, and when Mariko agrees to come with him, he leaps at the chance to show her a good time.

...maybe too much of a good time.

He's still dozing when she wakes, only vaguely aware as she takes his hands in hers, one by one. The room is a little cool, only a faint ribbon of sunlight streaming in between the curtains that catches on that plain gold band. Logan gives her hand a small squeeze, before he pulls away, an effort made to slip an arm around her waist. His protest is half-mumbled into the pillow: ]

's too early.

The first thing Jean noticed upon waking up was that her head was splitting with a headache and everything felt too loud, too bright, too everything. Hangovers as a telepath were a bitch and she should not have gotten so heavy with the champagne. Still, they'd just come off a rough mission and come out by the skin of their teeth so Logan's suggestion to blow off some steam had been welcomed.

Logan.

The second thing she noticed was an arm laying heavily across her waist, her back pressed up to a warm body and the tickle of breath against the nape of her neck. Oh. And that was definitely facial hair. It was Logan. And the hand currently at her hip? Was sporting a simple gold band.

"Logan?" she whispered, not wanting to startle him. "Um, we have a problem?"

'By the skin of their teeth' almost hadn't been a metaphor, not with the night they had. The mission had been a shitshow from the start, so when the smoke cleared and the signs pointed toward Vegas, he was in. He was all in.

He woke up to a mouth full of cotton, the world having a rough time of slipping into focus. For a moment he tried to curl in further against that warmth he seemed to be pressed up against. It was all soft and sweet-smelling, a hint of fire under bright citrus notes. Like Jean.

Jean.

"Jean?" His voice came out rougher than anticipated, heavy with sleep.

"Look at our hands," Jean said, brushing her fingertips over the gold band he wore and the matching one that adorned her left hand. She had a diamond to go along with hers too, the two rings stacked against one another and strangely tight against a finger that wasn't used to wearing anything at all.

"I know this sounds a little crazy but I think you might have married me last night."

[So you've been on a bender in space vegas and now you wake up in bed with a naked, green skinned space babe.

What do you do?]

[prefer other hero types, pm with questions.]

[Voice-testing like hellll, be warned!]

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Matt Murdock || Marvel

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Shane Walsh | The Walking Dead | Ota

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ariel ● the little mermaid ● f/m

Natasha Romanoff | MCU | F/M

logan | xmu | m/f

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/ded

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYbi2jXHdn0 mood music

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Re: logan | xmu | m/f

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Sara Lance | DCTV | OTA

Delia Battista | Star Trek OC | OTA

johnny storm | fantastic four

Wynonna Earp (x2)

jessica jones | mcu