It wasn't Scott's first drink of the night but the way he saw it if you're on enforced downtime for the week you might as well enjoy yourself. It would have been a flawless argument if he was actually enjoying himself.
He wasn't.
Honestly he was becoming less and less joyful with every passing minute and the alcohol wasn't helping. Nothing was worse than being banned from even listening to missions. He left the glass and the half empty bottle on the desk and turned on the tv. Channel surfing proved not distracting enough and now that he thought about it Gordon had been baking earlier.
The cookies sat neatly in a box on the table. That was only slightly suspicious. The note in Gordon's writing that read help yourselves was very suspicious. One bite confirmed that they were full of raisins not chocolate chips. The real cookies were (eventually) located at the back of one of the lower cupboards, very cleverly hidden by a short person who didn't want a tall person finding them. Scott had been an older sibling for long enough not to be fooled by such tactics. He took two, then one more for emergencies, replaced the tin and wandered back upstairs.
He refilled his glass and stood on the balcony to watch for his brothers' return. A soft meow pulled him out of his trance but he didn't dare take his eyes off the sky.
"When did you get down?"
Another meow.
"Wow, really? Have you had any of Gordon's cookies yet?"
Another meow, slightly more insistent.
"Oh yeah, cats can't eat chocolate." He turned round with a self-pitying sigh and froze.
John looked down at the glass then up at Scott.
"You can't drink it, it'll poison you. And that's mine."
John kept staring, and a helpless dread gripped Scott's heart. He took several steps forward.
The glass was pushed to the edge of the desk.
"Don't you dare-"
The sound of glass shattering broke the quiet of the night. Scott stuffed the last cookie in his mouth, sprinted across the room and managed to grab John before he sent the bottle flying.
"Mo! Bafftafd cah!"
John relaxed completely and started purring. Scott glowered. The purring got louder.
"I'm going to send you to a behaviourist."
One ginger paw booped his nose. Scott swapped the cat for the bottle and fell into the chair. He knew when he was beaten. Anyway the last cookie had been filled with raisins.