Briggs Was Nearing The End Of All Sets By Now, But Tonight Was Hands Down One Of The Best Nights Of His

James Marsters as Spike Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997–2003) | 5.06 — "Family"

"Listen, do you think I am made of money? Be serious, look at our equipment." Briggs joked lightly, although it wasn't a lie. He wasn't a rockstar by any means, he just had a band and loved music. He smirked though, shrugging. "I don't care about you being a hater, that's kind of my thing though. I try to be nice and this is how I get treated, you see my dilemma?"

“You don’t know the half of it.” Taylor downed another mouthful of drink, full of regret for even asking. “Believe it or not, there are rideshares for that too.” She knew that too well, the amount of money she’d given to Ubers after her first tour was probably enough to put a down payment on a car of her own. “Just so you know, covering my drink doesn’t mean I will judge you any less for even considering ordering coffee.”

In order to survive a very long night of performing, Briggs had done what any great musician and front man of a band does; drugs. He was on cloud nine as the band performed their rendition of I Want You to Want Me at the end of their second set and thanked the crowd by blowing kisses and high fiving the DJ as she took over the stage for her set. He had already caught a glimpse of Dean from the stage, a few times. Maybe too many times. But that was almost normal when the other man was around. His smirk grew as Dean immediately approached him though, Briggs stepped closer to him an eyebrow raised. "Why so curious? You trying to figure out your next move or what?" He teased, his eyes moving up and down his figure as he let all the substances in his body take over like they normally did. "You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say you're enjoying the show."

where: fire & ice gala who: @briggster & dean hart

Shots. Apparently some liquid courage was the only thing that ever got Dean out of his own head and into the fire, so to speak. What did it say about him that he needed to be under the influence to loosen up a bit, to untense his shoulders and, generally, not devolve into a literal panic attack from the sheer amount of tackiness alone? Probably a lot, but he wasn't one to think too far into things. The crowd started cheering as the band finished up their set, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing the group -- and their front man -- from his place at the bar. Some liquid courage apparently went a decently long way, so the moment he saw Briggs descend the stage and head in his general direction, he found himself offering a smug grin. "Tell me, does getting pelted in the face with underwear make you want to give it your all? Does it help loosen those pipes?"

CLOSED FOR @toriamin

LOCATION: her place

"I mean...sure, carnivore plants exist but they don't look like the ones in Mario Bros games, T. That'd be insane. It'd be like living with the dinosaurs, we'd be fucked." Briggs smirked back at his friend as he watered a few of the plants that he had gifted her, clearly messing aorund. "I also wouldn't gift you a carnivore plant, I'm not insane. I'd keep that one for myself. What's going on with you, by the way? You good?"

"Wow. Hater. And that's a lot coming from me." Briggs joked lightly. He was always in a better mood after a performance, doing what he loved to do was what kept him going. "Uber's are for people that don't have to move all their instruments and equipment around, obviously. We have a van to drive." He gestured to the stage where his bandmates had began to pack everything up and then turned around to the bartender. "Can I get a water and I'll cover her drink, too please."

How she’d gotten wrapped up in this, she would never know. What Taylor did know, was that with each passing moment she was regretting it. Signaling for another round, she side eyed the man. “Dude. I will hate on you if you order a coffee instead of a beer at a bar at this damn hour.” She rolled her eyes. “You…have you ever heard of an Uber?”

"Like who are they? When did they get here?" Briggs joked lightly, he wasn't really bothered by their presence in town, it was probably all the different substances in his system, making him just a bit paranoid. "You'd think all the murders and kidnappings would keep them away but such is not our luck."

"I don't know half of these losers are." Bec said as she looked around and squinted, trying to recognize faces but for all she knew, they'd just gotten old and she couldn't recognize them. "I love a leather jacket bar— but you're right, I think we need to start scaring some people out of town or at least making it harder for people to move here." Which was funny coming from someone who didn't even live here anymore, either. But it didn't matter because this would always, and forever, be home, no matter where she was.

"The rich giving out advice for free now? Fucking imagine that." Briggs tilted his head to the side, a wide grin taking over his face. Dean was unknown to him, very unknown, but also felt like someone that he should know everything about. Briggs knew the type. Rich, cocky, out of touch with reality. Still, he couldn't help but annoy him every time they saw each other, and he also couldn't help but try to ignore that one time they had gotten along far too well. When they didn't know who the other one was. "In my opinion, their displays were way more interesting when they had those male greeters waving at you right outside." he joked, clearly in a better mood than usual. "So just to be clear, you don't have a personal shopper? Silly as fuck. What else are you supposed to spend all your money on? The fuck?"

The roll of his eyes had started even before Briggs had come out with that ridiculous quip, but it was fitting nonetheless. "Ha-ha. Maybe you should invest in your own personal shopper if you're going to keep going out wearing clothes like that. You do know that just because you can by second-hand whenever you want, it doesn't mean you have to. Or should. Right?" Truth be told, there was nothing wrong with the look -- in fact, Dean would be lying if he tried to say that the other male didn't usually look pretty damn good (even despite the outfits he had opinions no). Thankfully, he didn't need to say another thing. "So, what's your deal then? Come to stare at the Abercrombie & Fitch displays?" Dean tossed back, unable to help the slight smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I, too, prefer beer...or alcohol in general, really." Briggs admitted with a small shrug. "But I pulled an all-nighter last night and now I have one more set in a different location, it can be tough to get through that with caffeine. Or other stimulants." He signaled the bartender over, asking for a beer and another one of whatever the stranger was drinking. "Since I was very young. I was classically trained since I was like seven. Do you play anything?"

“We never met a man that preferred coffee over beer but as long as you’re paying I don’t think they will care.” She said eying his instrument. She always wanted to play guitar but never had the talent. She looked at her drink. “How long have you played?

closed starter for @dallashcrt

location: fire & ice gala

"Excuse me, princess. I was here before." Briggs said loudly as the blonde that had just stood next to him in line at the bar managed to get the bartender's attention before him. This, in Briggs' mind, was like declaring war. Unacceptable, really. His attention turned back to the bartender. "Can we focus and not get lost in her blue eyes? I gotta be on stage in like ten minutes, my guy. A scotch and three double shots of rum, please." Briggs then turned to look back at the stranger, a smirk on his face. "You know, it's rude to cut the line."

Madness. That was the only way to describe how it felt to be on stage and see everyone rushing around the large venue where the party was taking place. Briggs had froze in place upon the incredibly scary announcement, then had found a way to come down the stage. Not a lot of things were traumatic to Briggs but everything that involved the Melody Davis' case never failed to send him spiraling a bit, add all the substances in his body and the buzz that had been generated by his earlier interaction with Dean and that almost made him feel on edge. As he found himself right in front of the very same man, Briggs finally snapped out of it. "I--fuck, I think I do, I don't know." His eyes focused on Dean's as he placed his hands on the other's shoulders, trying to center himself. "Okay. Let's go. But you need to breathe, I can't carry you anywhere, you have to properly function, Dean." He began pulling him backstage, clearly on a mission.

"Mmh, takes a lot more than a pretty voice to get my underwear off. Nice try, though -- I'm sure I can borrow a pair from one of your little groupies though?" Dean grinned smugly, swaying slightly as his balance began to betray him. "Dunno. Considering I had a few drinks to get through it..." He mused, eyes flickering towards the bartender momentarily. "A few more wouldn't hurt, though. Might make the rest of your sets more bearable. What do you think?"

TIME SKIP

He was far too drunk for this -- well, even if he wasn't drunk, this would have sent him over the edge. He felt like vomiting, his skin on fire with abject panic that far superseded any anxiety that normally coursed through his veins like a fright train. So much so that he didn't have time to hold himself back as he spotted Briggs in the crowd, only having parted momentarily before everything went down. "Please tell me you know a fucking way out of here," Dean practically hissed, instinctively grabbing onto the sleeve of Brigg's shirt as he practically barreled into him. "I've got no cell service down here -- do you? Can you -- didn't you and your Nickelback cover band have to load in from somewhere? Oh god, I think we're running out of air down here..."