Tonight we're going har har-har ha-ha-hard
Just like the world is our our-our our-our-ours
We're tearin' it apart part-part pa-pa-part
You know we're superstars, we are who we are
"We R Who We R" -Ke$ha
The challenge in his eye makes her blood boil in her veins, and Nesta is shocked at how quickly this man has been able to get under her skin. One look and she's agreeing to play some juvenile drinking game with her sisters and people who up until an hour ago were complete strangers. Nesta doesn't know it now, but she'll forget who goes first, or what questions are asked. She will remember noting that the way they play is nice at first, the tentative niceties of a group of people unsure of how far to push social boundaries with the newcomers to the group, but as the first couple rounds of drinks and dares run their course, the questions become more savage and the dares more audacious.
It's Cassian daring Mor to give the seemingly unsuspecting Azriel a lap dance— to which Mor swears vengeance and performs the task, red-faced, and then sits down next to her boyfriend who's blushing just a furiously as she is— that sets them down a strange and slippery slope.
Mor then demands the truth about the scar over Rhys' left eyebrow. He's never told anyone the truth of it; a kitten scratching him when he'd tried to cuddle it in high school. His spirits are high enough tonight though that doesn't mind the teasing he knows he'll get, so he finally spills, receiving many catcalls and embarrassing wolf whistles. Far more than the story deserves.
But both of those are nothing compared to the dare Rhys issues Amren. A twerk off between her and Elain sends the entire group into catastrophic giggles, and Rhys is forced to call it a draw, lest he embarrass Elain or piss off Amren. Neither of which he's willing to do, sober or not.
So it continues, each dare and truth growing more and more outrageous.
Until finally, a slightly buzzed Feyre turns to Azriel, who up until this point has only been dared to and successfully juggled empty shot glasses. She's had more than a couple shots, by Nesta's estimate, each before she's completed her tasks. "For courage" she's said each time, "Not because she's chickening out". And when Azriel chooses truth, Feyre leans back, pressing her back into Rhys' chest, drunken giggles bursting from her mouth and Nesta worries because she can't remember the last time her sister has giggled like this. Can't remember a time or a group of people where Feyre's let loose like she has tonight, and probably on other occasions.
"When are you going to man up and ask Mor to marry you?" Feyre asks with a flash of feral glee.
Rhys draws in an audible breath as does Cassian who chokes on his drink, thumping his chest to clear his airways of the burning liquid. Amren whistles and both Elain and Nesta freeze. But somehow Azriel is only slightly startled.
"You don't have to answer that," Mor says in a hurry, scrambling to gain her bearings. She looks at Azriel in a panic, waving her hands as her words come out in a rush. "You don't have to answer that. I know we're waiting until you're ready and I'm ready, life is good right now, like really, really good, and I love you and I love what we have and it was not ok for Feyre to ask that of you, especially when you can't get out of answering."
She glares at Feyre, a deep and seething glare that promises trouble later, but she completely misses the look of calm on Azriel's face. He just chuckles, dark and low and just barely above the sound of the music around them.
"When you admit that you and Rhys eloped last week, and the real reason that all of us are here tonight is because you wanted to tell all of us together," he says and all eyes snap back to the youngest Archeron sister, well former Archeron sister.
"Who told you?" she demands, looking at Rhys who shrugs and immediately denies telling anyone, adding that he's been cooped up in the townhouse—celebrating he added with a wink. "I didn't tell anyone either. How did you figure it out?"
"The shadows told me," he says through his laughter, and when no one picks up the joke, he gestures to her hands where she's wringing them in her lap. "You think I wouldn't recognize Rhys' mom's wedding ring? You know, the one she gave to him when he graduated from high school; the one you're wearing on the wrong hand hoping that none of us will notice."
Feyre's cheeks flush a brilliant scarlet, looking down at her hands where she's been fiddling with the ring in question. Nodding, she slips it off and places it onto her left hand.
"Oh. My. God," Mor exclaims, and Elain echoes the sentiment with equal fervor.
"You can't be serious," Nesta says.
"Surprise," Rhys winces as Cas gives him a congratulatory slap on the arm and the table explodes with a flurry of questions and congratulations.