\n\t\t\t\t\tAaronDrawsArts and I are doing here in this pic. Big thanks to him for not only accepting my St. Patrick's Day commission, but for allowing me to include his characters in it (and the story as well).Proofreading done by
\n\t\t\t\t\twellifimustAaron, Abbey, and Patricia belong to
\n\t\t\t\t\tAaronDrawsArtsPatrigue and Jack belong to \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
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There's nothing like celebrating St. Patrick's Day by wearing green and bar hopping for pints. Sure, the tradition likely has nothing to do with how some patron saint from long ago drove feral snakes out of a whole country, but honestly, who's sober enough to stress the details? As far as anyone cares, it's a day made for getting plastered with friends.
The next day, however, was a far cry from such a celebration. It's a day mostly reserved for nursing upset stomachs and splitting headaches, both of which had Patrigue regretting his life choices before even opening his eyes.
"Ughhhhhhhh, damn it," he groaned as he tossed.
"About time you finally got up," said a voice he recognized.
"Jack?" The avian weakly cracked an reddened eye open, watching the blue wolf place a glass of water and two acetaminophen pills on the nightstand. "What time is it?"
"A bit after 1 PM."
"One?" He sprung up, only to immediately regret it as his stomach turned. "Oh, fuck me."
"I'd rather not," Jack deadpanned.
Normally, this is when Pat would fire back some snappy comeback, but his headache was a more pressing matter. He reached for the water and pills and quickly gulped down both. Waiting for the medicine to kick in, he looked around the unfamiliar space.
"This… isn't my room," he noticed.
"No, it's my guest room."
"Oh… does your family know I'm here?"
"No, not yet. Honestly, we're lucky nobody saw us come in last night"
"Really?" He pondered aloud, climbing out of bed. "Why's that?"
Before his friend could answer him, Pat stood up, letting the blanket fall from his body. Looking down, Pat realized the blanket was the only thing keeping him decent.
"Jack… where are my clothes?"
He only responded with a sigh.
"What? It's not like I left them at the bar, right?" the avian continued.
"You really don't remember?"
"Remember what? We were drinking at the bar and…" suddenly, his eyes shot open. "Oh no, did I black out?"
"Either that or you found an alien and the MIB had to erase your memory."
"Oh shit, I've never blacked out before," he worried, starting to pacing around the room. "Oh, what the hell happened?"
"Calm down. Panicking isn't going to help your hangover. At the very least, you didn't end up in jail."
"I could've gone to jail!?" he yelled, exacerbating his headache. "Ow~"
"I wouldn't be shouting that if I were you."
Clutching his head, the parrot resigned himself to sitting back on the bed, and nursing the glass of water.
"So what happened?"
"Let's see…" the wolf paused, collecting his memories. "Do you remember that wolf?
“You?”
“No, from last night. White fur? Wore a giant oversized sweatshirt like a dress?"
"Yeah, I remember. Aaron, right? And his friends, Abbey and… Rebecca, right?"
"Patricia."
"Right, that's what I meant."
"Seriously? You're both named Pat."
"Jack, please…"
"Fine, fine," he relented. "So admittedly, I was in the bathroom when most of this happened, but this is what Abbey told me…"
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I'm sorry, Jack. Honestly, this was all on me. After you left for the bathroom, Aaron, Patrigue, and Patricia ordered another round. I swear if I had known what was going to happen, I would've cut them off beforehand. They were already red in the face and Aaron was flirting with everyone, but they were having so much fun and I didn't want to be a buzzkill. I guess it's true what they say about hindsight being 20/20.
Anyway, they got more beer, and Aaron was in the middle of guzzling his pint, but Patrigue was looking him up and down and started giggling. I knew he was up to something, I just didn't know what.
Until it was too late.
Before I could even say anything, his talon dove down and under his pullover and right toward Aaron's rump. The poor boy jumped and spilled his beer all over himself. A bit of it must've gone down the wrong pipe, too, because he was coughing up a storm.
"What the heck was that for?" he fumed.
"Oh jeez, I'm sorry about that," Patrigue squawked. "I only meant to give you a little pinch, you know, since you weren't wearing green."
He tried to drunkenly wipe down Aaron's front with his bare hands, but he must’ve swiped a little too hard and pushed him into Patrica. Fortunately, she caught him before he hit the floor and accidentally flashed everybody.
"Oi! What's your deal? Going 'round n' pushing people?" she protested.
"Oh balls, I'm sorry."
Sorry, but annoyed. The last thing I wanted was a fight, so I immediately went into damage control mode.
"Patricia, it's okay! He didn't mean it."
"Come on, Aaron, I'll get you some napkins." As I helped Aaron steady himself, Patrigue kept repeating, "I'm sorry. I really am."
"No, it's fine,” Aaron said. “He only got my sweater wet."
Knowing Aaron, that should've clued me in to what he was planning, but I still flinched when he grabbed the hem of his sweater.
"Wait, don-!"
Too late.
Whooping and hollering, he whipped that garment off and let it wave like a flag before it slammed to the floor, leaving him in only his striped leg warmers and a pair of bright green panties. I could hear a "woah" from one corner of the public, and a catcalling whistle from another.
"Woo! Lookin' good, sexy!"
"Go raibh maith agat, Patty!" Smiling triumphantly, he turned to Patrigue and teased, "Looks like I was wearing green after all."
"Hah, ya dumb bastard!" the kobold snarled.
"Guys!–Guys!–g-" I tried to get a word in, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. "I get you’re having fun, but maybe we should-
**SPLASH**
"-tone it down?"
From the collective “woah” I heard from a few of the other patrons, I had a bad feeling I wasn’t going to like what I saw when I opened my eyes. Lo and behold I was right, as I saw her holding out her newly emptied pint glass, with the top aimed right at the newly soaked parrot.
"What the heck, Patricia!" he shouted.
"Now it's your turn to strip!" she declared.
"Woo! Take it off!" Aaron encouraged.
"Guys, mayb-"
"Fine," Patrigue interrupted me. "If I must."
And with that, he slid off his hoodie and bared his chest, an act which was met with applause from my drunk friends.
"Don't forget the pants, Patty boy!"
Okay, I was used to Aaron's naked shenanigans, but I'll be damned if I was going to let somebody we just met get roped into them. It was time to put my foot down.
"Patricia!"
“What? Eye for an eye!”
“Please, we're not making him take off his pants! We're already causing a scene!”
“Why not? He doesn’t seem to mind.”
“What do you m-?” I froze as I was cut off by the sound of the jingling of a belt and the unzipping of someone's fly. Turning to the bird in question, he was kicking off his sandals as his open jeans hung loosely from his curves, his black boxer-briefs peeking out. His thumbs were already hooked into his waistband, ready to tug them off. I opened my beak to say something, but again, I wasn't fast enough. With almost bullet-like speed, he bent over and shucked them clean off his hips, leaving them crumpled up on the floor. Of course, Aaron and Patricia applauded the act. Heck, he even got a few hoots from the other patrons. I, on the other hand, was a little less enthusiastic, especially when he straightened up and kicked his trousers off his ankles, giving us all a clear view of a pair of bright green hips and… well… the thing between most men's hips.
"Gyah!" I cried. "You didn’t have to take off your underpants?"
"Whaddya mean? They’re right-" then he finally looked down.
Now, at this point, you'd assume he'd cover himself or pull his pants back up. Instead, he just deadpanned. "Oh… Must've pulled them off, too."
No. Shame. Whatsoever. Heck, the pervert even shook his hips to make it bounce around, which garnered a few giggles from the peanut gallery.
"Well, now I feel a little overdressed," Aaron mused aloud, receiving an 'oooo' from the crowd.
"Well, whaddya waiting for?" both Pats dared.
"Hold on!” he responded, picking up his sweater and fishing through the pockets. “I've got a better idea."
Once he had what he was looking for he dashed out of my sight. Of course, I tried to say something, but well, I'm sure you've noticed a pattern by now. Fortunately, I spotted him shoving quarters into the jukebox. However, the moment I did, the ambient Gaelic folk music cut to light flamenco guitar strumming.
"I caught it bad yesterday,
You hit me with a call to your place,
Ain't been out in a while anyway,
Was hoping I could catch you throwing smiles in my face"
As the music played, Aaron made his way to an empty table and climbed atop it, drawing all the attention from the crowd. It was at this point that I could only sit down and accept that trying to stop this would bring me out of my depth.
"Oh hell yeah!" Patricia cheered, maneuvering around the bar to get a front-row seat to the action.
He moved slowly at first, getting into the rhythm, picking up speed with the music. With all the spinning and butt-shaking he did without falling off the small table, you'd have no idea that he was drunk off his ass. Every eye in the bar was on him by the first chorus, watching him sensually rubbing his hands into his thick chest fur and teasingly tugging at the few garments he still wore.
"Call me when you want,
me when you need,
Call me in the morning,
I'll be on the way,
Call me when you want,
Call me when you need,
Call me out by your name,
I'll be on the way"
Of course, they didn't last long. As the second verse began, he sat down and slid his leg warmers down and off, waving them around before launching them to the crowd, earning some hoots and hollers. Getting back on his feet, he rolled his hips as he stuck his thumbs into his waistline and let them linger.
"Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!" Patricia was chanting all the while. Some of the less-reserved guests joined in with her.
Once the second chorus came in, they got what they wanted. He slowly inched the green panties down his hips in time with the beat. However, right before anything slipped out, he maneuvered his big fluffy tail in front of his crotch,delaying the big reveal. Even as he stepped out of them and held them scrunched up in his hand, he continued to censor himself. That is, until the post-chorus exploded...
"Oh, call me by your name,
Tell me you love me in private,
Call me by your name,
I do not care if you're lyin'"
He threw his panties, as well as his inhibitions into the sea of faces, finally lowering his tail and bearing everything. The horny minority of onlookers rallied with various 'woos' and 'yeahs' while I could only stand there and wonder why nobody had stopped him yet.
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"That was an oddly descriptive recounting of what happened," the green avian noted.
Jack shrugged, "To be fair, I was paraphrasing a bit, but over all, that’s what Abbey told me."
"Still, that sounded hot as hell! It's a shame I don't remember it. So what happened after that?"
“Well, that was around the time I came back…”
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The blue wolf heard cheering from outside the bathroom as he washed his hands, but knowing how hammered everyone was on this particular day, it could’ve been for anything. Likely a sports game on TV or a rich drunk buying a round for everyone. An impromptu strip show was the last thing he would’ve considered. Imagine his surprise when he saw the arctic wolf dancing atop the table with nothing but a blush on his cheeks (the ones on his face, obviously). As the music died down, he rushed to find the stripper's canary companion, who he found sitting by the bar, watching the lewd spectacle with a thousand-yard stare.
"Hey, uh, Abbey?" He piped up. "Why is Aaron naked?"
She shrugged, "It's a long story."
"But I was only in the bathroom for five minutes tops. And where's Pat?"
"She's on the other side of the bar cheering him on."
"No, I meant Patrigue, my Pat."
Before she could even fathom a response, the jukebox picked up again with the festive sound of Irish folk music.
"Oi! I know this song! Aaron, make room!" boomed a familiar avian voice.
Out from the audience leaped the green, naked parrot with two frothing mugs in hand, high enough to land next to Aaron on the table. Handing one to the white wolf, Patrigue began his tune:
"Oh, row, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o,
Oh, row, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o."
Jack could only sigh as he sat down and dropped his face into his hands, "Of course, Pat’s naked again. Why wouldn’t he be?"
She cocked her in his direction, "Again?"
"He's, uh" He fumbled for the best explanation. "He's… kind of a nudist."
"Oh…?"
"Yeah, no idea how he got into it, but he just… really likes not wearing clothes."
"Well, at least Aaron's in good company."
Jack's ears perked up. "Him too?"
"Oh yeah. Rarely wears anything at our apartment. And sometimes outside our apartment too."
"Oh, same with Pat! Friends' houses…"
"Nude beaches…"
"Hiking trails…"
"Walks in the park…"
"I don't know how he gets away with it," they both said in tandem.
Their mirrored remark caught them off-guard. They couldn't help but look at each other, but as they did, there was a moment: one where all the noise and tomfoolery faded into the background and all they sensed was the unspoken understanding between them. Their frowns turned to smiles, then to giggles, then to laughs. How could they not? But as their laughter died down, the camaraderie of the bar returned to fill the silence.
"And on that feather there was a flea,
A rare flea, a rattlin' flea,
The flea in the feather,
The feather on the bird,
The bird on the egg,
The egg in the nest,
The nest on the twig,
The twig on the branch,
The branch on the limb,
The limb on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
In the bog down in the valley-o!"
"We should get them home after the song ends," Abbey remarked.
"That would probably be for the best," Jack agreed.
”Oh, row, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o,
Oh, row, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-oooooooooo."
With the final chorus sung, the naked duo gulped down what was left in their mugs. As the patrons clapped, they took a bow and embraced each other in a hug. However, as the alcohol coursed through their veins and their hands ran along the fur and feathers along their respective backs, their minds rushed with dopamine and thoughts of intimacy.
Neither of them minded as their dancing partner's hands sunk lower to their buttocks and gave them a supple squeeze. In fact, they both moaned at the sensation. The two eventually let go of each other, only to lock eyes and see the same flames of passion they felt within each other's gaze. Their rosy cheeks flushed even redder and their panting grew even heavier, until finally, the sexual tension broke, and they both leaned in.
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"Hold up!" the hungover parrot interrupted. "We made out!?"
"Well, you would've… had the table not given out."
"Huh?"
"The table… the one you guys were dancing on? It collapsed right before you guys kissed."
"You're kidding me!"
"Nope, that's what happened. You guys fell down and passed out. After that, we brought you home and tucked you into bed. Good news is you two didn't get hurt. Bad news is that the busted table went into your tab."
Patrigue facepalmed, "Of course… So how much did that put me back?"
"Two hundred."
"Two hundred?" he gasped.
"Well, technically it was four hundred, but Aaron is covering the other half."
"Ugh, stupid expensive table," he groaned. "Wait, you still haven't answered my question."
"I'm sorry, which question was that?"
"Where are my clothes?"
"Oh! Right! Abbey has them."
"Abbey? Why?"
"She stayed behind and collected them from the bar while Patrica and I carried you guys to the car. She's coming by with your clothes once they're out of the wash."
"Well that's mighty sweet of her."
"Yeah, she's really nice," Jack agreed as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Anyway, she'll be here in an hour or so," he continued. "In the meantime, just lie down and try to feel better. I've got some French bread pizzas in the oven for our lunches."
"Mmmmmm. Sounds like a good idea."
As the wolf made his way out, Patrigue shut his eyes and lay back down, only to pop back up seconds later.
"Wait a second! Jack, why did you tell your part of the story in third-person?"