This story started life as a crack!RP in our Downton Abbey RP forum (.net/forum/Downton_Abbey_RP/84113/) This is the original RP topic, with tweaks here and there to make it into a smooth flowing story for everyone that doesn't check out the forums! It was co-written by the following users: (in order of appearance)
ScubaKanga as Thomas
WotcherNymphadora as Tom Branson
Scarlet Secret as Sarah O'Brien
Lady Grantham as Cora Crawley and William
TheShippyQueen as Robert Crawley and Anna
StuckInThePast as Gwen and Mr Bates
MissMattSmith as Sybil Crawley and Louis Malloy (OC)
Silvestria as Mary Crawley
xheart to thee as Edith Crawley
Cattie V. as Daisy
Thomas looked around, and then quietly opened the storage cupboard everyone thought was empty. Once again he looked down the corridor, before taking out a bottle of whisky from the box. He and O'Brien used the cupboard for storing things they'd nicked from various places, and no-one had ever found it. Setting it down on the table, he crept into the kitchen and opened various drawers until he found a corkscrew. He'd just opened the bottle when the sounds of various pairs of footsteps came down the hallway. Damn. Thomas left the bottle and stood by the other door, trying to look as though he'd just arrived.
"Alright Thomas?" Branson asked as he walked in "Get me a glass would you?"
Branson had caught him red handed. He very much doubted that bottle of whiskey had come out of Thomas wages. But he felt he should cut the man some slack, he had been drafted after all. Besides, Branson felt like a drink too. Thomas was a bit of a slippery character from his experience. Although he'd never personally done anything wrong to Branson he'd still been a right little bugger to Bates, and Bates was a good man. But Branson really didn't care. He'd be damned if he missed his last chance to get shattered before he left for war.
Sarah O'Brien came through the door next, and saw the bottle standing on the table. She recognised it immediately and out of the corner of her eye saw Thomas. Stupid bloody idiot, fancy getting that out now! Assuming it wasn't confiscated they'd have to share it!
"Where's that come from?" she asked. Best pretend ignorance. She glared over at Thomas and shook her head ever so slightly.
Don't say a word lad.
'I don't know,' Thomas lied; well aware no-one would believe it. Ah, what the hell, he couldn't be bothered tonight, so he went back into the kitchen and got three glasses. Branson didn't seem to mind. They didn't know each other very well, so Thomas had yet to make an opinion of him. He poured two glasses and stopped before the third. 'You want some?' he asked O'Brien.
O'Brien gave Thomas a withering expression. "No, I thought I'd stick to tea tonight in case either of you need me to hold yer hair back when yer throwin' up later. Course I bleedin' want some." She fell into her normal chair, thoroughly harassed from her day but grudgingly satisfied that sharing it with one other person was not the end of the world. And Branson seemed alright, he was certainly brighter than most of the cretins in this place.
William sat silently at the kitchen table, looking up at the sudden flurry of activity. He'd been quite happily minding his own business and polishing the silver, but felt a sense of dread overtake him as he saw the bottle. No good is going to come of this, he thought, shifting nervously. "I'm not sure 'is lordship intended us to drink when 'e suggested we 'ave a party," he offered meekly. "What if they need us later?"
"No drink William? What kind of parties do you go to lad?" asked Branson. He downed his glass of whiskey in one. It certainly wasn't single malt but it would do. A party with no drink indeed, Branson's father would be ashamed
'Oh Christ,' said Thomas, smirking at William's nervousness, 'Who cares what his Lordship intended?' To irritate William further, he filled up a glass and passed it to him. He'd better drink it. That would definitely be interesting.
O'Brien knocked back her drink too. She was a proud Lancashire woman after all and was not to be outdone by an Irishman. "Go on William, just one won't 'urt you."
Poor lad thought Branson. He's looking at that whiskey like he's going to drown in it. "If you don't want it, I'll have it" Branson bet that it would only take that one glass before William was on the floor.
'You never had whisky before or something?' Thomas finally took his glass and drank it in one like the other two. William's face was a picture. Thomas was certain William was a lightweight.
"I don't go to many parties," William defended, realizing, belatedly, that such a defence was probably more pathetic than not drinking anyway. He hesitated at the offer, looking to the bottle as if it would transform into some kind of demon and eat off his face. There was a reason he didn't drink, but, underneath the glare of so many expectant eyes, he forgot it. William finally reached for the suddenly appearing glass (who had poured it, anyway?) picking it up as if it might suddenly bite. "Well ... I suppose one won't 'urt," he muttered, before attempting to knock back the glass as the others had done. He promptly broke out into a spasm of coughs, throat burnt by the liquid.
O'Brien smirked. The great daft lad was looking more convinced by the moment. Thomas was going to force this drink on him and she half hoped he would manage it. Thomas' face would be a picture. She was right and her increasingly amused half-smile only made her look smugger.
Thomas smirked as William broke into a fit of coughing. Definitely his first time. Oh, this was brilliant. He supposed he should feel sorry for the man, but it was too amusing, to be frank.
Branson gave William a few claps on the back. O'Brien and Thomas had awfully smug looks on their faces, and he felt perhaps he had not chosen the best drinking friends after all. "William, maybe whiskey's not your thing. How about we get you a bottle of beer or stout?" Beer didn't have such an edge; at least he'd look less of fool with a beer in his hand than nothing at all.
"That might be better," William admitted sheepishly, still in the midst of a coughing fit, his cheeks suitably pink, both from choking and embarrassment. Maybe he'd make less of a fool of himself with a bottle of beer. At least he'd had that before. He looked up to Branson, giving him a grateful nod, studiously ignoring Thomas and O'Brien. He bet they'd coughed their first time too!
Thomas left the room and went back to the cupboard. This was getting better by the second. A minute later he reappeared with a bottle of beer, hoping nobody would ask where it was from. Just go with it. 'Will this do?'
William nodded, accepting the bottle meekly, his cheeks still scarlet. At least Daisy 'adn't seen, he thought, though he expected Thomas wouldn't wait to rub it in amongst the others. "Thanks," he muttered, attempting to adopt as masculine tone as possible, despite his wounded pride. He didn't know why he bothered.
"I've got a crate that I bought for my study in the garage, I'll go get it" Branson walked off, feeling a little guilty that William would now be left at the mercy of O'Brien and Thomas; they'd probably ladle half the bottle down his throat by the time he returned.
Anna had heard the voices coming from downstairs and decided to go and see what was going on. On entering the room she took a look around and blinked. She couldn't ever quite remember seeing a scene quite like it. "What's going on?" She asked, her expression bemused.
'Go on then,' Thomas encouraged. Now this was something he was looking forward to. Turning around, he spotted Anna standing in the doorway. 'Branson's coming right back.' He explained.
O'Brien smirked. "I'll be back an' all," she winked at Thomas. "I've got to fetch something from my room." She slid out of her seat and immediately vanished. William would be safe with Thomas and Anna for a minute. She had a special surprise for the maid.
"'Is lordship was kind enough to suggest we 'ave a party," William explained, holding the bottle in his hand very carefully, looking exceedingly nervous, especially under Thomas' scrutiny. At least Anna was an ally. And he liked his odds of survival better with her, rather than without. "Someone 'ad a stash." He didn't dare point out who.
" 'Is Lordship suggested we have a party?" Anna asked, this seemed to be getting stranger by the minute. She noticed O'Brien's look at Thomas as she slipped away, she was up to something there was no doubt about that! "Don't go drinking too much of that William, it'll go to yer head!" She warned.
Gwen stepped to one side in the doorway as Miss O'Brien passed her, and stepped into the hall. There was a smell in the room that reminded her of home - recently opened whisky. Let's give 'em a surprise, she thought wickedly, and scooted into the seat beside William. "That whisky goin' for t' takin'?" she asked, reaching for a glass and grinning cheekily at Thomas.
Branson returned with a near full crate of beer in his arms. It was a pity there was no cider to speak of (unless of course Thomas had conveniently found some of that in his possession too) because he really did like it. "We have beer!" he exclaimed heartily. And then he spotted Anna, She was a really nice girl, but he wasn't sure she was one for piss ups.
Thomas couldn't help but laugh at Branson's exclamation before he saw Anna. There was a second's awkward silence before he took one of the bottles from the crate and passed it to her.
Louis walked into the room grinning. "Is that the scent of whisky I smell before me?" He sat down and eyed the bottle. "Mind if I have some?"
Branson cracked open a bottle on his teeth and began drinking from it enthusiastically. It had been far too long since he'd been properly drunk. The village pub was a drag with all its farmers and shop keepers. With the people here, it ought to be a laugh. "Anyone for a bottle then?" he asked opening another bottle and holding out to whoever would take it.
Louis glanced at the bottle, and shook his head. "Nahh, I'm more of a cider guy. Think I've got some in my trunk. I'll grab it later, if we run out of drink." He looked over at William "His lordship said we could? Well, I hope he's not expecting any of us to be driving or serving later!"
Anna looked at the bottle of beer and then back at Thomas. She could see he was expecting her to refuse it, but she'd show him! "Don't mind if I do!" She said with a smirk.
"I'm alright," William responded, waving his still untouched bottle slightly in confirmation. It wasn't that he didn't like beer, 'cause he did. He was no Branson, but then he was Irish, wasn't he? But he could take his alcohol. It was the embarrassment holding him back more than anything, particularly Thomas and O'Brien's cackling. What was she up to, anyway?
More people seemed to arrive one by one. All Thomas had meant to do was have one bottle of whiskey, now half the staff had the same idea. He couldn't help but think this evening was going to be brilliant.
O'Brien returned and immediately locked her eyes onto Branson's crate. "I'll 'ave one of them if there's one goin'." She settled back into her seat and casually plonked a mysterious, unlabelled green bottle on the table. She saw Anna with a drink and sneered slightly. She hoped she choked on it.
Louis looked at all of the bottles around the room, and grinned impishly. "I challenge one of you - any of you - to a drinking contest."
O'Brien sniggered at Louis' challenge. He really was new here. "You don't want to try me lad."
Thomas turned to Louis. 'Alright,' he said, 'you're on. William, give us a tune while you're still sober enough to see the keys will yah?" Anna took the beer from his hand. 'Well I'll be damned' he thought. He certainly wasn't expecting that.
If there was one thing Branson knew how to do it was a have a good knees up. You needed to start with booze, then have some music and it usually ended in a brawl however Branson wasn't so sure Carson would be thrilled with any fighting.
"I'll take that challenge, Louis," Gwen offered with a chuckle. It was far too long since she had really let herself go. Tonight was going to be wonderful.
Louis smiled. "Pick your poison. I'm happy with whatever." He hoped he could beat them. He was pretty confident in his drinking ability, but he didn't know the others well enough to know theirs.
"A contest! Well be prepared to be obliterated people" There was only one person on earth who could out drink Branson and it was his father and he would be ashamed to know that he was beaten by a boy, a woman and an Englishman.
"Me too!" Anna added, "I take your challenge too new boy!" She had a feeling she was going to truly enjoy this evening!
Louis laughed. "I do have a name you know. But I'll take you all on. Well, I'll try to."
William's eyes widened at the sight of the mysterious green bottle. He followed O'Brien's eyes to Anna and audibly gulped. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "Maybe we shouldn't get too merry?" he spoke up nervously. If 'is lordship called for one of 'em, and they were all slumped unconscious over the table ... He suddenly registered that had been asked a question and let out a breath of relief. Maybe if he was playing, he wouldn't be expected to drink too much, and maybe he'd survive the firing squad Lord Grantham was sure to organise. "What d'ya 'ave in mind?" he asked, standing up to move over to the piano. Now this he could do.
'Shall we start with beer or whiskey?' Thomas asked, grinning. Now everyone had decided to start a drinking contest, even the girls. Carson would be furious.
"Someone pass me an 'andful o' beers," Gwen said, and grinned at Branson. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, Irish or no."
"Go on then," O'Brien said, feigning indifference. "I'll join in. Don't want to be a spoilsport."
Thomas took the cart of beers and set six down on the table. Round 1.
Branson shook his head, like they could beat him. He wondered if William would join in. Probably best he doesn't Branson thought.