"Three... two... one... Happy New Year!" Seven voices shouted in drunken unison.
Chris had been right to suggest they have the party on his ranch, Buck thought happily. No neighbours to complain about the noise. No liquor stores nearby either, but since each of them had brought at least six bottles of something alcoholic, that was all right.
Ezra popped the cork on the bottle of incredibly expensive champagne he had brought with exaggerated care, reflecting with sorrow that none of the others would really appreciate it. He might as well have brought fizzy wine... The thought saddened him so much that he had to fight back tears. It wasn't their fault they'd been brought up as barbarians... It was a crime, it really was...
"Esh - Ezra."
The undercover man looked up. "Just a second, Mr. Wilmington. I just have to pour it. Can't you partake of some more whiskey?"
"It's all finished," Josiah put in helpfully.
"All three cases? That's what... six bottles a case, times three..." Ezra squinted, thinking hard. "That's lotsa bottles... But we've only been drinking for, umumum, six hours now, counting the Saloon... Are you sure?"
Josiah nodded with certainty. He had personally been responsible for at least two of the bottles, he knew Buck and Ezra had disposed of several between them, and he was reasonably sure he'd seen Chris, JD, Vin and Nathan arguing about who could finish a full bottle first, and still avoid falling over. Chris, as it turned out. The team leader had also won the who-can-finish-seven-glasses-of-Tequila-in-a-row-first race, although the others had complained that he had an unfair advantage, since he had retained more control of his fine motor skills after the whiskey.
"You still owe me a rematch in that game of cards, Ezra." Buck leaned toward the gambler and shook a threatening finger.
Ezra smirked. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Mr. Wilmington? I may be... what's the word... smashed? But I can still take you for everything you've got."
Buck snorted. "Oh yes. You think, you think, you think. Uh. Where was I?"
"You think...?" Chris supplied patiently, leaning over Ezra's shoulder and snatching the bottle of champagne. "Thanks," he added, waving it triumphantly at Vin, who was gesturing pointedly with his empty glass.
"Oh yeah. You think you're such a card shark... so prove it."
"Again?" Ezra sighed. "All right, Mr. Wilmington, but I'm afraid you're going to have a hard time locating your wallet in order to place bets."
"Why's that?"
"You gave it to that young waif that tried to steal it, if you recall... You said he deserved it for trying so hard to succeed in, in, in, in something."
"Oh yeah..."
"So, might I suggest that we play for different stakes?"
"Shoot."
"If you win, you may drive the Jag for a fortnight."
"And if you win?"
Ezra smiled evilly. "You shave."
"Hold up, there, pard. I've had this here mustache for too long to -"
"I wasn't talking about the mustache. I was talking about your legs."
"Uhhhhhhh..."
"And then you wear shorts at the office for... ten days."
Buck hesitated.
"Unless you're chicken? Buck-buck-buck... Ahahaha, I kill myself."
Buck growled. "You're on."
Josiah watched in disbelief. "How drunk are you, anyway, Buck?"
"Not drunk enough - is there any more of that champagne?"
"No, but there are three bottles of brandy in that bag."
"Right." Buck nodded happily, then, after a moment's thought, he added, "Not for long."
JD giggled. "I think this razor is... is... thingy... whatsit... not sharp."
"No kidding?" said Buck irritably. "Ow! Dammit, Ez, watch what you're doing."
"Not to worry, Mr., uh, Mr. Wilmingtinginginging... Buck, it's just one tiny cut."
Ezra had taken great delight in ordering Buck to drop his pants, and even greater delight in the fact that he was wearing boxer shorts with little piggies on them. Buck's defensive response to the howls of laughter: "I like piggies!"
"Ow!"
"Ya big baby," Vin grinned. "I've had bigger papercuts."
"Ow! This is different! Owwwww!"
Chris, who was just as drunk as everyone else, but better at hiding it (although, to their credit, the others were holding up very well), stepped in. "Give it here, Ez. I used to shave Sarah's legs for her all the time."
Everyone, Chris notwithstanding, was astonished at this revelation. There was a brief, awkward pause before Ezra thrust the razor into Chris's outstretched hand and retreated.
"Okay, now I'll show you how it's really done." Chris angled the razor carefully.
"OW!" shouted Buck.
Half an hour later, all six of Buck's teammates had tried their hands at shaving someone else's legs. Satisfied that they hadn't missed any hairs, they stood back to admire their handiwork.
"Oh, the pain," moaned Buck. "The agony. I can't take it anymore, kill me. Shoot me, quick. End my misery... I'm bleeding to death. JD, you can't have my video collection; I promised it to Chris."
His friends ignored him completely.
"We can't see his legs properly under all those bits of tissue," JD complained.
Ezra nudged Josiah, and they fell about laughing.
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't just let him bleed," said Nathan.
"And he was dripping on my carpet," added Chris.
There was a momentary silence while everyone contemplated this remark, and then a longer silence while they tried to remember how to speak.
The group sighed collectively as the power of speech returned, all in a rush, after each of them had downed two glasses of brandy.
"Ah well. The ladies will go wild for you on Monday, Buck," Vin assured the unhappy camper.
"Aw, don't talk to me about ladies. I had a date for tonight, you know, but she, she, she blew me off because I didn't want to watch 'Sleepless in Seattle' with her for the thirtieth time." Buck grumbled.
"What is it with women and their chick flicks?" sighed JD. "I'll never undershtand them." Casey wasn't talking to him at the moment, partly because he had declined to spend New Years with her in favour of hanging out with his friends, and partly because he had insisted that 'Titanic' was a huge bucket of over-hyped slop with nothing to speak of in its favour.
Murmurs of agreement made the rounds.
"Isn't there a chick flick bonanza on TV tonight?" asked Nathan suddenly. "A sad-movie fest, or something?"
"So?"
"Well, I mean, Chris has that big-screen TV, and maybe if we can discuss them with each other, we can figure out, um..." Nathan's trail of thought slid away from him like a well-oiled, wriggly fish.
Team 7 regarded each other solemnly, and came to a decision.
"I want the reclining chair!" yelled JD, and ran like hell for the living room, Buck following close behind. The others followed at a more stately pace, having thought to stop and collect the remaining alcohol (which now consisted of a measly twelve bottles of liqueur and two bottles of tequila) and some snacks.
"Freedoooooooooooooom!"
The team was on their third movie.
"No! Don't do it! Noooo! Oh, sod, they did it!" Chris threw popcorn at the screen in a frustrated gesture. "Bastards!"
"Oh, they... that was so sad..." JD stopped, unable to choke out any more words around the lump in his throat.
Ezra and Buck were crying unashamedly, sobbing in each other's arms. They had consumed the tequila on their own.
"It ain't fair... he was such a nice feller..." Vin rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. "It... aw, hell! I hate the English!"
Nuzzle nuzzle, went the huge black horse that Chris always preferred to ride, which had been brought in as a surprise for the team leader.
Josiah and Nathan shushed them irritably, still watching intently. They waited until the final credits began rolling before they collapsed, sobbing heartily over the bravery of the Scots.
"With just the spears..." JD was saying. "And, they, and the Irish, and when they..."
Even Chris was all choked up. "I ain't never gonna look at Hamish from reception in the same way again," he swore. Taking a deep breath, he looked around at his team - and was horrified at what he saw.
"Men!" he said sharply, then had to stop and swallow hard to stop himself from bursting into tears with the rest of them. "Men!" he repeated eventually, his voice hardly wavering at all. "Are you crying?!"
His team attempted to pull themselves into sitting positions, and failed miserably.
"Uh, I just, I have something in my eyes," sniffed Josiah.
"My damn allergies are acting up," explained Nathan, ignoring the fact that he had no allergies.
"I am a sensitive New-Age male," said Buck haughtily, "And as such I have no problem admitting that I accidentally set off my pepper spray in my face. And JD's."
JD cast his roommate a grateful look, and added, for realism, "Achoo."
"I just put eyedrops in," Ezra lied glibly. "Doctor's orders after the incident last week — ha, last year — with Buck's rubber chicken. Every six hours."
Vin thought hard for a second. "I chopped an onion yesterday, and it just caught up with me," he announced eventually, his defiant gaze daring anyone to contradict him.
Snort snort, went the horse.
Chris frowned, then sighed. "All right. Pass me a drink?"
Nathan looked around. "There's... There's... There's nothing left!"
"What?!"
"Already?"
"Oh, man!"
Chris held up a hand authoritatively. "Calm down, men. This may be for the best. This way, we might just be sober by tomorrow!"
Ezra shook his head. "Mr. Larabee, it is tomorrow. Six a.m., to be exact."
"I know that. I meant the day after today, or haven't you noticed the volume of alcohol we've consumed?"
Ezra gaped for a second before nodding in understanding. There was a pause. "Mr. Larabee, it appears that our companions have... Thing, thing, thing. Thing. Thing."
"Passed out," finished Chris.
"Precisely." Ezra collapsed dramatically across his favourite chair.
"You have to admit, there's no point staying awake if there's no more to drink."
When no reply was forthcoming, Chris glanced over at the team's undercover man, who had passed out cold along with the rest of them, his motto for the night being "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
Chris shrugged and went to his room to collect all the blankets he could find, which he used to carefully cover his friends. Then he curled up on the floor with a cushion and the one remaining blanket, and fell asleep.
Buck opened one eye for a second, then shut it again as quickly as possible. Then opened both his eyes in horror when he felt a cold, wet, big nose nuzzling him.
"Oh... hello, horsie." He gritted his teeth, cast aside the blanket that covered him, climbed bravely to his feet and chased the horse outside, then returned to his seat and sat down, very carefully.
Nathan entered from the kitchen, whistling jauntily and carrying a pot and several mugs.
"Morning, Buck! Coffee?"
"God, yes," Buck groaned. "And please, please, could you not whistle?"
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Why, Buck Wilmington! Are you hung over?"
"Hell, no. I'm still drunk." Buck gratefully accepted the mug Nathan handed him, surveying the rest of his friends in their various positions of sleep. He wondered briefly why Chris was sleeping on the floor, when he could have just slept in his room. Oh well, he thought, shrugging it off.
Suddenly it hit him that his legs felt rather cold.
"Nathan," he said cautiously, "Do you know where my trousers are, by any chance?"
Nathan considered this for a second. "Nope," he said eventually. "You'll have to ask someone else. Nice piggies, by the way."
Buck's reply was mercifully cut short by a groan from JD.
"Oh lord... what hit me... did you get the licence plate?" JD opened his eyes. "Oh, too bright." He squinted over at his roommate and frowned. "Why're you wearing little piggies? What time is it?"
"It's just after noon," said Nathan, handing the kid some coffee.
"Oh...Thanks... What's this on my head?"
"It's a Santa hat. Very fetching. You should show it to Casey."
JD nodded, then winced and clutched at his head. "Is this a... a pompom on the end?"
Buck was examining his legs with an expression of concern on his face. "Did I fall in some glass or something? I'm covered in cuts! Wait... are my legs... shaved?"
"I hope you have a good pair of shorts." Chris sat up slowly and snatched some coffee from the table.
Buck swallowed. "Mind if I ask why?"
"You made a bet with Ezra, dumbass. Shorts at the office for the next ten days. Move over."
Buck obediently made room for Chris on the couch. "Was I really drunk enough to make a bet with Ez?"
"You were drunk enough to throw your pants on the fire."
"What?! Oh, man, I loved those pants!"
Ezra opened one eye, mumbled something about keeping it down, and went back to sleep.
Suddenly something occurred to Chris, who turned to glare at Nathan. "And why the hell are you so perky?"
Nathan merely smiled. "Family hangover remedy. It's been passed down for centuries."
"Got any more?" Buck asked hopefully.
Nathan shrugged. "Sorry, Chris is all out of horseradish and sauerkraut."
Buck considered this for a second. "Ri-ight," he said eventually.
Further comment was postponed when Josiah sat up, groaning and clutching at his head. "Coffee," he moaned, reaching out blindly with the hand that wasn't trying to prevent his head from exploding. Nathan merrily placed a cup in his groping hand.
"You know," he said idly, "Coffee isn't actually good for hangovers. You should be drinking as much water as possible—" He stopped when he saw the look Chris was giving him, and shrugged. "Well, if you don't want some good advice," he mumbled, meandering off in the direction of the kitchen to refill the coffee pot.
Josiah was frowning. "Does anyone remember why my shirt is inside out?"
A pain-filled voice arose from Vin's direction. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about the state of your hair."
"The—" Josiah reached up and very cautiously patted the top of his head. "Okay, who plaited my hair?"
Vin smiled, then winced. Even his face ached. "If I recall, you found some hair gel, and that started a conversation about hairstyles, and you said that your hair was way too short to braid, and Ezra bet you that he could braid it with just the gel. He used the entire bottle. Is there any coffee?"
Nathan had just re-entered the room, wielding a pot full of the sought-after liquid.
"You're in luck!" he announced, a bit too loudly for comfort, as he poured some for Vin.
Josiah carefully walked to the nearest mirror and examined his head. "I'm never going to live this down."
"Aw, it's cuuuuuuute!" laughed JD, then clutched at his head.
An expression of fear crossed Josiah's face. "What... what was the bet?"
Chris grinned evilly. "You have to wear it like that to work for a day."
Ezra groaned softly and opened his eyes (both, this time). "Could you gentlemen show some consideration for once? I'm trying to sleep!"
Nathan tut-tutted. "Well, you're awake now. You may as well stay that way. Tea?"
"Coffee," snapped Ezra, not bothering to hide his scowl.
Nathan sighed and shook his head, but poured the coffee.
Ezra was eyeing Josiah, seemingly puzzled. "Why's your hair like that, if I may ask?"
The look of relief that passed over Josiah's face was comic to behold. "Uh, I can't remember. Neither can anyone else." He gave Chris a very pointed glance at that.
Ezra nodded, suppressing a smile. Nobody could say he never did anything nice for his friends. Noting the hopeful look on Buck's face, he added, "I'm looking forward to seeing you in shorts at work, Mr. Wilmington."
Buck's face fell. "Aw, hell, Ez."
Ezra smiled. "Consider it revenge for the rubber chicken incident."
Chris shook his head slightly, then pulled himself to his feet. "All right, who's gonna help me with the horses?"
The team shuffled their feet and murmured excuses, looking away.
"I'll give you all an extra sick day."
"Three extra sick days," countered Vin.
Chris sighed. "You know, I can't believe I have to bribe my team, my friends, to help me with the horses that they come over and ride whenever they feel like it, and-"
"Okay, okay! Two."
Chris grinned. "Done."
"Come on, guys," Vin ordered, hauling Ezra to his feet. The others got up themselves, groaning and complaining all the while.
"Was a good party, though," said JD, as they headed for the door.
"No, it wasn't. It was awful. Horrible. Terrible." Ezra complained, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
JD smiled faintly. "Wanna know something?"
"What?"
"You'll enjoy it just as much next year."
"Next year! No, I'm not coming next year. Wild horses couldn't -"
"Aw, come on, Ez," said Buck, cheering up a little. "You know you loved it."
"Well— yes," he admitted. The others grinned at him as he lingered in the doorway.
"Ah, well," he said with a shrug. "Here's to a happy year ahead."
Chris's mouth twitched slightly. "Filled with many drunken parties with your friends. A year like that?"
"Yes," said Ezra, a smile spreading across his face. "Exactly like that."
The End
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