Legends Comparing Life Stories
1. With Family Like This… Who Needs Enemies?
The gorgeous, green-eyed man slammed another shotglass down on to the table, a rough laugh bursting from his chest.
"That's it?"
The petite blonde in stylish clothes sitting across from him tried to glare at him, even as her eyes started to cross. "Whadaya mean 'tha'sit'? I've fer-eegin' died TWICE, purdy-boooy! That's defini-tially more than mos'people 'ave died!"
He just shook his head, fingers clenching convulsively around the next glass, before drawing it closer. "That's nothin', sweetheart. You know how many times I've died? I've died so many times that I've lost track."
She snorted, throwing back her own shot and only spilling a little on her haltertop. "Sooo? You could jus' be reeeeally drunk! Or jus' too stooopid to keep track!"
This time, the man simply chuckled. "Oh, I'm drunk alright. But 'm actually smart. Built 'n EMF meter outta a walkman once, y'know."
"Wha'sa EMF meder?"
"Y'know, ta measure cold spots 'n ghosts 'n stuff."
Which was when the blonde passed out on the table, and those green eyes stared in shock, then he started laughing again. "You only had fifteen shots! Slayers're supposed to be tougher 'en that."
It was only three minutes later that the brunette's head dropped to join the woman, and he began to snore.
… …
It was nearly two hours before a pair of frazzled, frantic and pissed off younger siblings burst into the bar.
Before they had even opened their mouths to speak, he tattooed gal behind the bar snorted and pointed to a table in the corner. Stalking furiously over, the two stared down at the unconscious drunks.
"Can we kill them later?" Dawn fumed, before spinning back to talk to the bartender.
Sam shook his head, taking in the array of empty glasses. "What do you want to bet that's what they were talking about?" he called after her, as he started to use his excessive height to maneveur the blonde out off her chair.
Dawn huffed, "Of course they did! It's all they ever talk about when they're drunk. I've never seen her more angry than the first time he mentioned how often he dies."
Scooping up the tiny woman, Sam choked when her arms shot out to tangle sharply around his neck. Turning back, Dawn groaned at the sight of Sam turning bright red as her big sister snuggled unconsciously against the huge man's chest. "Sorry, Sam."
He blinked, then sighed. "Let's just get them outta here, please. We can yell at them later."
"Well, that may be an issue, Gigantor," Dawn shrugged. "Seems our idiot sibs haven't paid for their drinks."
"Are you kidding me?" Sam glared at the still-seated form of his brother. "Even when he's passed out drunk I'm still paying for everything."
Giggling, Dawn skipped over. "Oh, come on, Sammy. What's a few bucks between brothers?"
The man raised an eyebrow, then moved as though to dump his burden.
"Okay, o-kay," Dawn growled, scrounging in her own pockets.
After they had paid and Dawn called a cab, they stood outside the building, Dawn barely keeping her sister upright, while Sam did his best to stop his own sibling from face-planting on the concrete sidewalk.
The look in the younger girl's eye was dangerous, and her angry, considering gaze rested steadily on the man in Sam's grip. "Any chance we could pimp your brother to make back the money I just shelled out?"
Sam snorted. "I wish."
The two shared an empathetic, long-suffering glance and -in unison- let out heavy sighs.
It was no easy job having older siblings like Dean Winchester and Buffy Summers.
"Next time, we can get drunk, and they can cover our tab and drag our drooling, unconscious bodies home," Dawn snarled.
Sam just nodded.