Party rock is in the house (Scott)

[SCOTT PARKER]

Scott was sure that he had been kin to more wise, intelligent, BRILLIANT sayings tonight than the whole rest of his life put together. This Dan guy was like, some kind of philosopher mixed with like, prophet and super brilliant superhero all mixed into one. He was exactly the type of awesome party pal that Scott had been looking for all his life. Well, he hadn't KNOWN that he'd been looking for such an awesome fantabulous guy until just now, but he had been. Oh yes, his life hadn't been complete until that evening. He had been just one half of a whole before he met Mr. Dantastic.

God.... he was sounding like some kind of romance novel. Or rather, his internal monologue was. Well...not that he wouldn't mind having this turn into a romance novel. Those eyes certainly were romantic material right there, and Scott was sure this Mr. Dantastic had to work out some. He certainly wasn't some kind of slouch. And he was obviously so confident and cool and collected and didn't mind slumming it in a pool of beer on the floor of someone's dorm and just lie there talking with some gy he'd just met. Really, he was.... well, he was nearly perfect as far as Drunk Scott was concerned. He wondered if Dan would care if Scott were to just lean over right then and tilt his head slightly sideways and kiss him. They were both drunk, right? Didn't alcohol grant some sort of immunity against that kind of event? He could at least claim that it was the beer goggles talking if Dan asked.

Still contemplating the idea, Scott nodded a bit too vigorously to Dan's explanation of how true partiers were made. "Ya know, what we really ought'ter do wold be ta' star' somethin' like a school. A big ole' school for people who want ta larn how to party with the best. It would be like... it would be like the x-men. We'd go round the whole damn country and find people who got the potential for being great fucking drinkers and partiers, n' then we'd invite em to our school and then...." Scott's sentence trailed off. Huh, that idea had gotten away from him. He vainly tried to reclaim it, but the train of thought had left the station. There was no point in trying to chase after it.

"So...s'there a Mrs. Dantastic 'round here?" The question was abrupt and out of the blue, and it srprised Scott himself, to be honest. He hiccuped quietly, staring at Dan and waiting for an answer.

[DAN OWENS]

Damn, this Scottie guy really knew what he was talking about. Dan was impressed. If there was a doubt in his mind whether this guy would make a good partying partner, it was instantly dashed by Scott's sudden and god-like string of brilliance. And to think people claimed alcohol impaired thinking. Obviously none of them had ever bathed in the stuff, because Dan was feeling hard-pressed to find a time when he hadn't felt so utterly enlightened, so completely zen-like, as he did right now, with the stuff practically oozing out his pores.

"Ya know wha', Scottay..." he paused, shaking his head at the overwhelming brilliance of it all. "Da's gotta be onna the best goddamn--Nah, the best goddamn idea I hear' all fuckinight. You, my fran'," he jabbed his pointer finger into Scott's chest for added effect "Yer a goddamn Profess'r X, you 'r. We c'n call it sometin, too, 'cause school's gotta haver name, righ'? It could be...Mr. Dantastic's School fer Drunken Daredev'ls...or Scottay's Sc'ool fer...fer...Sloshin' 'n Smashin like ne'er before!" he brought the hand that had been poking its way into Scott's pec back in a sweeping, dramatic motion, clearly hilighting the countless possiblilites on the horizen for both of them.

Dan was just about to think up what to say next about this potentially record-smashing school when Scottay there decided he was gonna go and ask something else. Not that he minded...it was random, sure, but chances were he wouldn't even remember he'd asked come morning. He laughed. "Mrs. Dantastic...?" he hiccuped, shaking his head for a good ten seconds. "Nah. 'S not really my thing," he meant dating in general, of course. Being drunk as he was, he saw no reason to explain further. "Whatta 'boutchu? Got yerself any Scottettes?" he elbowed Scott jokingly in the side, wiggling his eyebrows up and down as he did so.

[SCOTT PARKER]

By this point in the night, Scott's head was a mess of fuzzy feelings and thoughts and all worries for being socially acceptable or unquestionably straight were thrown out the window. Sure, he may have started out the night wanting to keep his image of heterosexuality utterly intact, but now that the alcohol had hit his decision and judgement faculties, he was starting to wonder if that was really all that worthwhile a job. Really, it was hard work, that's what it was. He didn't want to have to put up with the acting and the straightness and the lying to himself and everyone else for an entire night. Especially not around someone with such fabulous eyes as Mr. Dantastic. What was the point of being a drinking superhero if Scott couldn't really give in to the whole act of being drunk and had to always worry about what he was acting like.

"We'll have a betta' school than any a' those other nicomskulls who think they can teach youths these days. Who needs ta' learn 'bout philosophy of art and all that nonsensicallity? What we REALLY need lessons for is how ta' get so incredibly drunk that ya' don't have ta' worry 'bout nothin' and no one. That's what we need." Scott meant it too. He didn't think that enough people had this valuable skill anymore. There were way too many people who just didn't know how to let loose every once in a while. It was sad, that's what it was. People just got so uptight and crazy and worried about every last thing that they didn't know when it was important to get so freakin' smashed that they forgot about all that and let the booze do the talking for them.

For a minute, Scott went rigid as he was prodded in the side and wiggled at with eyebrows so fabulously crafted that they had to be gifts from the Gods to one very, VERY lucky Scott. He was like a deer in the headlights, wondering whether or not to say he had any Scottetes of his own squirreled away somewhere. Did Cleo and Sadie count as Scottettes? Did he WANT them to count as Scottettes? Heck no! Hell, if Dan didn't have any Mrs. Dantastic to call his own, then Scott wasn't gonna make anything up. Maybe Dan was really just like Scott. Not that Scott thought he was anything. But maybe Dan thought the same way about girls and he had those same feelings that he secretly kept buried and was incredibly ashamed of and didn't want to talk about, but that fate had put the two of them together so they could experience firsthand what it was like to act on those feelings.

Well.... probably not.

"Actually, well, uh, naw. Naw, Dantastic, there aren't none a' those Scottettes just lyin' around for me. . . I do have my eyes set on somebody though," he threw that last bit in before he could think about it, throwing in a wily wagging of the eyebrows of his own for good measure. It was quite thrilling, really, to be able to do that kind of stuff without thinking.