Dorcas is torn to pieces (certaindoom) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-05-24 02:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1980/05 may, dorcas meadowes, sirius black |
Who: Dorcas Meadowes and Sirius Black
When: Saturday night
Where: Potter Sr's place
What: Drunken, post-brain-post shenanigans
Rating: Uhh... R for language, discussion of brains and sexual innuendo
Status: Completed log
It wasn't as if Dorcas could exactly forget about the brain that had come in the day's post. Her eyes were still puffy and red from the last of the crying fits that seemed to be overtaking her on a near-hourly basis and the thoughts that had consumed her mind all afternoon were still swirling madly about her head. The vision of that awful brain sitting there in the box, thoughts of just who it might have come from, a painfully vivid image of how it had been removed from some poor innocent person's head just to traumatise her (quite successfully) and questions of how anyone could do such a thing were all still very present in her mind.
But several hours of drinking with Sirius had at least managed to somewhat mute those terrible thoughts. For the time being. The vaguely numb feeling seeping through her brain was a familiar comfort that she had been relying on all too often lately. Dorcas had always been something of a drinker and had a talent for keeping up with men twice her size at the pubs but ever since the Death Eater attack at her flat, she seemed to be existing in a near-perpetual cycle of drunk and hungover. And to think Stu thought she was coping well. Then again, Sirius was the only one who really knew how much she was drinking or how she was barely willing to leave the house on her own and he seemed to be drinking at least as much as she was. Between the two of them and James's father, their garbage was starting to resemble something more like a busy pub than a house.
But really, what the hell else were you supposed to do when someone sent you a fucking brain in the post? And so Dorcas was slumped on the sofa with her feet on the coffee table and a bottle of tequila firmly in hand. She took a swig straight from the bottle without even flinching and spoke. "The problem with puffskeins is that you never know if they're sleeping or if they've up and died on you. And then you have to poke the little fucker to make sure it's still alive and it wakes up and makes this pathetic noise and you feel bad about waking it up so you leave it alone and start all over again in an hour." Her words were ridiculously slurred (not to mention just being plain ridiculous) and she was waving the bottle around in dramatic gesticulations.
Sirius was still in a state of shock, mostly over the fact that he'd actually tied a ribbon around a brain and mailed it off with some poor owl, like it was just another ordinary piece of post. Not that that'd been more traumatic than actually receiving the brain to begin with - he probably would've screamed and keeled over, and Dorcas had more than held her own with that one - but it was traumatic nevertheless, and he was beyond keen to have the body part posts stop coming altogether. He didn't know if Moody would be able to set something up to keep them away, seeing as the Death Eaters seemed to take great pleasure in de-limbing (de-organing?) innocent people and showering them with the pieces, but it'd be fucking brilliant if he was able to come up with something. God, this was so fucked up.
He took an enormous swig of the rum, his own (thankfully intact and in place) brain feeling rather liquified by this point. They'd been drinking for what seemed like hours, and neither were in the mood to stop anytime soon, and so Sirius was content to fall further and further into his drunken haze and be rid of all the thoughts of the day's horrors. He'd once or twice considered the sheer amount of alcohol they'd been consuming lately, but really, given the situation, what the fuck else were they supposed to do?
"Did you know," he replied, fascinated by the talk of puffskeins, "that if you stack them up into a huge pile, and accidentally fall on when after too much rum, they don't die? It's like landing on a stack of squeaking pillows." He'd felt a bit bad about that one, really, but the damn things had been too happy to... well, they didn't hop so much as roll, but they were happy to roll around on the floor and wait to be petted, and this was after he'd squished a good twenty or so of them. Never mind where he'd gotten 20 puffskeins from to begin with.
As much of an animal lover as Dorcas was, she really wasn't the slightest bit disturbed by Sirius's story. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was that really at this point she just expected as much from Sirius. Or maybe it was just that the idea of him collapsing into a pile of puffskeins was definitely the funniest mental image she'd had all day (not that there was much competition) but either way she couldn't help but laugh.
"Did they...uhh... bounce back into shape?" she asked, completely fascinated. "Or did you just end up with a bunch of flat squeaking furballs? Fur patties? Huh. I'd say we should go break into the Magical Menagerie and try but apparating sounds hard. But if Mr Warrington ever agrees to give me my job back, I'm so bringing some home to play with. Bastard still hasn't replied to my owl." Not that she had any burning desire to go back to work now anyway, especially after today but she had been rather fond of her job back when she was still willing to leave the house on her own. Frowning slightly, she took another generous swig of tequila. Fuck, she was definitely drunk.
Sirius was going to attempt an actual answer, but the idea of fur patties was too amusing and he burst out laughing instead, almost spilling his rum all over himself in the process. "They did bounce back into shape," he agreed, once he was certain the rum wasn't going anywhere (besides in his mouth, of course.) "Like... right away. Instantly. One second they were squished flat, the next they were rolling all over the place, right as rain, squeaking away." He sounded ridiculous, but he really didn't care, and given that Dorcas seemed just as fascinated with the puffskeins as he was, everything was momentarily okay in his world.
"I think - I think - a puffskein bed would be amazing. So comfortable. They cushioned my fall like you wouldn't believe, the brave little buggers." He raised his bottle in salute to the brave puffskeins, and then took a huge swig. The rum burned on its way down, but it was worth it. He was having some problems seeing straight, but that didn't seem like much of a hinderance at the moment, especially not with more rum waiting for him. "If we go to the Menagerie, we should steal enough to make a bed. A big bed. Then we can sleep in that instead, and it'll be like heaven," he decided.
"Oh god, I want one! Right now," Dorcas insisted, although she wasn't even going to attempt to move from the sofa. "I want to poke it and make it squish. Squishy. But it'd be a very loud bed with all the squeaking, wouldn't it? And you'd have to find a way to keep them all in place so they don't roll around under you and... oh fuck it, we can make this work!" At the moment between the two of them anything seemed possible. And Dorcas didn't care how absurd this entire converstaion was (really there was only the slightest part of her brain that recognised that fact in the first place) it was a conversation about something other than brains.
Oh god. Brains.
No, back to puffskeins. "We could so sell this too. The most comfortable bed in the world and then when you want a pet to play with you can cut open your bed, pull one out, toss it around a bit and then just shove it back in when you're done!" she said, although her voice was slightly less enthusiastic now that she'd reminded herself of just what she had been trying to keep her mind off of in the first place. She wasn't going to let herself start sobbing all over Sirius's shoulder again. Really she wasn't. And if she told herself that enough it might actually be true? Maybe?
Sirius had to admit that this sounded like the best plan he'd ever been a part of in his entire life. What would be better than an absurdly comfortable bed with built in pets? Besides an absurdly comfortable bed with built in pets with rum in it. "I think you're onto something, Meadowes," he declared, only slightly worried by the lessened enthusiasm in her voice. He wouldn't mind if she started crying again, although he'd attempt to keep her from doing so as long as he could.
"We'll be filthy rich - filthy richer," he amended, "and we'll have the most comfortable bed in the world, and we'll be the king and queen of the puffskeins." He paused, that last statement sounding odd even to his drunken ears, and that was never a good sign. "Er, or at the very least we'll just be rolling in money, and who doesn't like that? I've alway wanted to shag in a big pile of money - muggle money, the soft paper notes, not galleons or anything, cause ouch." He was rambling a bit, but it was a brilliant idea and hopefully something that'd distract Dorcas from the brains and such, and that was always good.
Dorcas's face scrunched up as she rolled her head towards Sirius and gave him a thoroughly baffled look for a moment before laughing again. At least her smile was back and she was distracted again, if by a whole new completely odd mental image. "Papercuts, Sirius. Papercuts on your arse! Still probably better than galleons but I think I'd rather shag on the puff- wait, no, that'd be creepy. Okay so there might be a flaw in this brilliant plan of ours after all. You'll just have to do all of your shagging on the sofa and I'll take the nice, soft squeaky bed."
She took another drink of the tequila, although the awkward angle of her head and her inability to compensate with the bottle ended up with a fair portion of the alcohol running down her chin. "Whoops?" she offered. Not that she really gave a damn at this point and instead she was drunkenly giggling as she smeared the back of her hand across her face in a clumsy effort to wipe off the excess. "I need a straw."
Sirius winced at the mention of papercuts, though he squashed down the urge to gingerly touch his arse, as though he'd somehow acquired papercuts just by sitting there. "I said the soft notes, not the crisp ones!" He grinned and took another swig of rum, shaking the now mostly-empty bottle a little sadly. "Goodbye, good friend," he said solemnly, before he finished it off and reached for the next one (missing three times before his hand closed around the neck of the bottle.) He sat up triumphantly, just in time to see Dorcas spill tequila down her face, and he snickered.
"You need a napkin, is more like it," he decided. He glanced around for one, and, seeing nothing, grabbed his wand. "I shall make you one," he declared, snatching up a quill. He attempted to transfigure it into a napkin, though the end result still had a feather sticking up wily nily from the side. "I failed first year Transfiguration," he said sadly, dangling the feather napkin in front of Dorcas' face. "That was supposed to be my best subject! I can do anything in that subject, except... er... this." He pouted for good measure.
"The soft ones still have edges!" she protested as she took the napkin er-thing from Sirius and eyed it suspiciously before wiping it across her chin with the non-feathered end. "And I'm not judging, I'm complete bollocks at transfiguration anyway. Besides, you just gave the napkin a... very useful handle?" She waved the now-crumpled napkin about herself, holding it by the feather before tossing it onto where her journal was sitting on the table.
"But now what are we going to do if we need to write something?" she asked, suddenly rather concerned at the thought that there might be the need to write... well hell if she knew what and not being able to find a quill. "It's a vis- visci- vicious cycle you're creating here, Sirius Black! The next thing you know we'll have to transfigure the sofa into a quill and then where are we going to sit?" Wait, no that seemed rather absurd. Was it? Oh she couldn't even tell anymore.
Sirius quirked a brow, wondering if the handle was indeed... er, handy. He supposed so, and his drunken brain seemed to accept that one without too much argument, so handy it was! "That's what I'm here for, to be useful." He nodded in a very self-satisfied sort of way, already having forgotten his minute sulk.
His eyes widened at the concern in Dorcas' voice, before he realised that they were talking about quills and couches and what now? He shook his head a little (though he stopped when that just made it worse) and plucked the feather napkin up once more. "Have no fear, I shall remedy this predicament." He waved the napkin around for a moment, then waved his wand around - "Oops, didn't mean to blow the throw pillow up" - and, brow furrowed, managed to successfully transfigure the quill back into a proper quill. "I did it!" he cried, beyond pleased with himself. "This calls for a celebration." Or a huge swig of rum. "I'm so good at transfig- transfigure- transfiguration. You have no idea." He had the sudden urge to tell Dorcas about Padfoot, but an alarm went off in his head clearly stating That Is Not Allowed. Pity, that.
Dorcas was, admittedly, rather doubtful of Sirius's claims at being brilliant at transfiguration after his demonstration with the napkin. Actually more the fact that she was now trying to brush the feathers that used to be inside the throw pillow off her shirt. "Oh fuck it," she said, laughing as she abandoned that apparently futile venture and decided to just be covered in feathers. Although she couldn't resist the urge to pick a couple up and throw them at Sirius. Which would have been more effective if they weren't feathers that just fluttered lightly down to the sofa.
Flicking another stray feather away from the mouth of the tequila bottle, she raised the bottle in a slight toast. "Your talent is amazing!" she teased before taking a long drink herself. "Now I can start writing my... my... memoirs? I can't remember. Are those the ones you write when you're almost dea-" She stopped abruptly, mouth clamping shut as she covered it with her hand and gave Sirius a look that managed to be both wounded and horrified all at the same time. And she had been doing so well.
Sirius paused, a feather sticking pitifully out of his hair as he gazed at Dorcas with a worried expression on his face. He carefully (carefully) set the rum down, and shifted closer on the couch, so that he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. If she needed to cry some more, well, she was more than welcome to soak his shirt sleeve again. And if not, a half hug always helped. "Don't think about that," he said, closing one eye so he could focus on Dorcas' face without the room spinning slightly. "We're both fine, and alive, and fine, and... alive, and we're going to stay that way." He was very adamant on that particular topic - no matter how many risks he took, or how many stupid things he said or did, he was very keen on staying alive for as long as humanly possible.
Quite grateful for Sirius's arm around her, Dorcas leaned against his shoulder and curled her own arms around herself (somewhat awkwardly as she refused to relinquish her own bottle). She wasn't crying again - not yet, anyway - but was just consumed by the thought that regardless of what Sirius said, the idea of living into old age was seeming more and more unlikely. And yes, she was quite painfully aware that she brought a fair amount of this onto herself but god, they were dealing with people who sent brains in the post.
"I... How?" she asked. "How do we fight people who just kill whoever they want? Or whenever they want or I don't even know. That thing... the post, it used to be in someone's head." Her thoughts were confused, both by alcohol and just the sheer trauma of the day's events and she couldn't even manage to come up with the words to actually express what she was thinking and feeling. Just a pervasive sense of hopelessness and fatalism and now that her mind had locked onto those treacherous thoughts, she just couldn't seem to shake them again. "We're so completely fucked."
"We're not fucked," Sirius replied, with a confidence he didn't really feel. He tried to stay optimistic - he was optimistic, most of the time - but things really were going right to fucking hell lately. And Dorcas had a point; the Death Eaters had no rules, no boundaries, nothing to keep them from killing as they pleased. How did you stop someone like that? Short of killing them before they killed you, but as far as the Order went, he wasn't sure just how many members could actually bring themselves to do it. He could, he knew. And right now, the thought didn't bother him like it usually did.
"We have some of the best damn wizards and witches in the Order; people that want to fight, that don't want to just roll over and take it. The Death Eaters are just too fucking smug and confident right now; we haven't really challenged them yet. But once we do, and once we rattle them, they'll realise they haven't won. That someone's going to fight them." He had to be right, because he didn't know what would happen if the Order couldn't withstand the fight; if things didn't turn in their favour. If he did think about that, he'd go bloody mad. "And besides, we take care of our own, yeah? We won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anything happen to you." Or he'd bloody well die trying, though hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
Oddly it wasn't Sirius's promises of protection that pulled Sirius back from the verge of tears but his faith in the Order. And it probably wasn't exactly the reaction he was expecting. She picked her head up, although she kept the rest of her body curled up against his, unwilling to relinquish the comfort his presence provided. But her brow was furrowed in worry and frustration as she gave him a questioning look.
"Then when are we going to challenge them?" she asked. "Most of the others seem too worried about keeping their covers and hiding to do anything and it's not as if I can blame them right now since I'm really not interested in even walking outside right now but... shouldn't we be doing something? I don't know what, just..." her voice was soft and uneasy in a way that betrayed her conflicted emotions about the whole thing. She wanted to fight. She told herself she could kill a Death Eater if it came to that but at the moment she was so completely terrified that the declarations of being willing to charge into battle herself that she would have offered just that very morning seemed so completely unfathomable. Shrugging off the rest of her unfinished sentence, she wriggled slightly so she could retrieve the tequila from where it had been nestled between them and took a long drink. "They sure as hell managed to rattle me."
"I don't know," Sirius admitted, frowning slightly as he focused on Dorcas' face, this time with both eyes open. "I want to do something now. I want to let the Death Eaters know that we will challenge them, that they can't just keep fucking doing whatever they please, killing whomever they please, that there's people here who are going to stop them. I understand being careful, but I don't understand why we spend all our time covering our arses, and none of our time actively fucking fighting - except for when they come after us." Or when one goes to a playground to duel with their insane cousin. "We can do it - I just don't know what the fuck we're waiting for."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wishing now, more than ever, that they could stop fucking talking and hiding and all that rot and do something! Anything! Fuck all the secrecy and caution, it was time to act. He was brought back to the moment when Dorcas wriggled, however, and he cleared his throat a little as he carefully shifted his hips away from her. Couldn't be too careful with that one, really. It wasn't like he was going to try anything (even if his drunken mind was cheering him on - well, had been, not so much now with the crying) but if she was going to wriggle around like that, it was better to not have too much contact. Really. For his own sanity.
"Then let's do something!" Dorcas declared. Right, this was definitely the alcohol talking. "Something... I mean, not anything where we'll have to actually see Death Eaters because I don't want to die tonight but...oh I don't know, lets just go blow up the fucking Ministry or something. Right now." No, Dorcas. Seriously bad plan. "Okay, maybe not the Ministry, but it's late enough that we could just go destroy something, couldn't we? Some shop where they all go or I don't know." Despite the sheer terror that was still very much at the forefront of her mind, that other voice, the one that drove her to challenge the Ministry in the journals, was prodding her to some kind of action. Just the non-confrontational, destroy things and run away into the night without anyone ever knowing they were responsible type of action.
But as Sirius shifted ever so slightly away from her, she responded by moving closer to him without even thinking about it. She was completely oblivious to any concern on his part and she just wanted the closeness. Which made the prospect of leaving the house seem quite daunting. "Well... okay, except for the part where we'd have to get off the sofa... Maybe tomorrow?"
For a moment there, blowing up the Ministry sounded brilliant - beyond brilliant. Imagine it! But then Sirius remembered that they'd probably go to jail (or die) and that would not be on. That would be so far from on it wouldn't be funny. "Er, you want to blow up a shop? I love blowing things up - I Love Blowing Things Up should be my middle name - but I don't want to get arrested. I don't want us to get arrested. Let's stick with stealing puffskeins and making that bed, yeah?" Now that sounded good right about now, if squeaky.
"Tomorrow's good," he agreed, attempting not to bite through his lip when Dorcas moved closer again. If she was anyone else, regardless of the situation, it wouldn't be a big deal. In fact he'd quite enjoy any sort of wriggling, or anything else that could potentially lead to an interesting night, and the last thing he'd do would be to put any space between them. He didn't have any objections to it in general (in fact he was quite pleased with the situation on a basic level) but he somehow felt that it wouldn't be great if he got a bit too excited and scarred poor Dorcas. She wasn't just some bird he picked up down the pub, she was an actual friend and someone Sirius genuinely liked, and he didn't fancy a fist to the face, or a ruined friendship, even if the alcohol in his blood was saying 'go for it!' And people said he had no self-control!
Really if Dorcas had any idea of the thoughts running through Sirius's mind, she probably would not have offered much in the way of objections herself at the moment. And she should have figured as much since those were pretty much constantly the thoughts running through Sirius's mind as far as she could tell but it had been a long, traumatic day and she was almost through an entire bottle of tequila all on her own and at this point she was just oblivious to anything but what small measures of comfort she could find and so she just took another drink before settling more fully against him.
"Well yeah but if we go now, or tomorrow's now... you know, middle of the night, whatever, we won't get arrested! I don't think. We could totally pull it off! Sneak in to...wherever we're going, blow it up, run away and get home before anyone even knows! How could it go wrong?" Except you know, in about twenty million different places but they were so far past logic at this point. The whole world was fucked, they might as well just add to the damn chaos. But fortunately in addition to being rather susceptible to completely batshite insane ideas, Dorcas was also quite easily distracted at the moment and her train of thought was derailed by a hummed "Mmm... squeaky bed is comfy."
Sirius had to grin a little at the idea of a sneak attack, and especially at Dorcas' enthusiasm (and apparent lack of concern, which was always admirable.) And he had to accept the fact that Dorcas was apparently going to use him as a bed for the time being (and possibly the night, if she passed out anytime soon) and that he was going to have to attempt to control himself around an attractive woman. The Order should just up and give him a bloody medal at this point - he deserved it.
"So am I the squeaky bed?" he asked, giving into his own amusement. Might as well enjoy what they could. "I can guarantee I'm not made of puffskeins, at any rate, but I've been known to be quite comfortable." Ignoring the entire idea of 'keeping distance' Sirius gave in and leaned over Dorcas, picking up his bottle of rum. He needed another big gulp, and another big gulp he took. Much better.
That last shot of tequila had definitely pushed Dorcas over some indeterminate edge between sloshed and barely coherent but that still didn't stop her from taking another shot, draining the last of the bottle in the process. "I don't think I've ever finished an entire bottle before," she declared (or really, slurred) as she let it fall onto the sofa. And then there was some recognition that Sirius was talking to her and she tilted her head on his shoulder so she could look up at him. Both of him. "Hmm? No, not squeaky," she began but was cut off when he started to move and she let out a discontented little noise of complaint as she had to resettle against him.
"Not squeaky. Rumbly. It's a good thing. I like rumbly. And you're very comft- comfy. I don't know why I never made you be my pillow before." Wait, no there was a reason, wasn't there? Somewhere but hell if she knew what it was right now.
"Bloody impressive," Sirius replied, genuinely impressed as Dorcas dropped the empty bottle on the sofa. "That's a new record - I've never seen a woman drink an entire bottle of anything before, let alone tequila. I'm going to make you a medal out of the bottle." Brilliant idea, that, and he toasted himself with another swig of rum. God, he was going to die. At least it wasn't at the hands of the Death Eaters, and death by rum was a good way to go.
When Dorcas resettled against him, she quite firmly settled against parts of him that were being pushed past their breaking point, and he told himself that if he had to resort to hitting himself over the head with the bottle to keep from doing anything stupid, that was a sacrifice he was going to have to make. He was a king among men for this. "We could go upstairs, if you want," he suggested, knowing he'd probably have to carry her at this rate. Not that sharing the same bed wouldn't stop any awkward... encounters... but it'd be better than this at the moment.
"Told you I could drink you under the table," she replied, lifting her chin in what was supposed to be a proud gesture but was really just kind of ridiculous looking. Never mind the fact that Sirius had actually had more to drink and was at least somewhat more coherent. Such silly details as facts had no place in Dorcas's reality of the moment.
"But god yes, bed sounds good. Comfy. As long as the puffskeins promise to be quiet. And now you can't say I won't sleep with you any more." Oh yeah, she was definitely oblivious. And she decided for some completely unfathomable reason that she was going to attempt to stand all by herself. She pressed one hand against the sofa and the other against Sirius's chest as she pushed herself up. To her credit, she did actually manage to stand, even if she was wavering on her feet. And then she promptly fell back down and into Sirius's lap with a laugh and a "Whoops?"
Sirius laughed, shaking his head a little. "You are full of surprises, Meadowes," he said, amused. Most girls her size would've already been dead by now, but she was still alive and kicking, and that in-and-of itself was ridiculously impressive. Now all she had to do was live through the night, and they'd be right as rain.
"The puffskeins will be nothing but quiet-" he began, before he nearly choked and had to cough to clear his throat at her comment about sleeping with him. God she was bloody pissed (as though the slurring and such hadn't given that one away.) "That is something," he agreed dryly, getting control of himself. He really wasn't used to acting this way around women, and it was throwing him way off. When Dorcas stood up and attempted to remain upright, Sirius caught her arm in an attempt of his own to keep her standing, but even that, and the hand on the couch (and the one on his chest) didn't help, and then she was right back in his lap. In his lap and on his tackle, to be more precise, and the only good thing about this situation was that she was quite obliviously drunk, and hopefully couldn't feel his reaction to all of this body throwing around and what have you. He needed to chug the rest of the rum and hope that'd make him unable to react, really.
Okay, so he just needed to get her to move a little, and then he could help her stand up, and then blessed bed for them. Now, just to be nonchalant and not overly obvious about the whole thing. "Your arm's on my family jewels," he said instead, without even thinking about it. So much for careful plotting.
Dorcas twisted around and gave Sirius a funny look as she took a moment to process what he had said. One... two... "Oh!" she exclaimed, squirming awkwardly about to free her arm from where it was pinned between them. In the process she only managed to move more squarely into his lap for a moment before her arse slid back onto the sofa itself, leaving her legs draped across his. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" she asked, looking at him with concern. And then glancing down to his crotch as if she was going to some how manage to ensure that everything was still intact. That was finally enough for some semblance of sanity to kick in and her cheeks flushed bright red as she quickly looked back up at Sirus's face. No, she definitely hadn't been just staring at his crotch. Not at all! Didn't happen!
She fumbled behind herself for the tequila, forgetting that the bottle was empty and upon that realisation, it was discarded again and she took the rum from Sirius instead. Because that was a good plan. Although it didn't take more than a drink to remind her that she really hated that shite and she made a face before thrusting the bottle back into his hand.
Sirius nearly chewed his own lip off when Dorcas ended up more firmly in his lap that before, and if he'd had any hope whatsoever of calming himself down, it went right out the window with all that moving about and friction and bloody hell, he was going to need a cold shower. And then she was staring at his crotch, and really, was this some kind of test from some cruel higher power? His eyebrows went up into his fringe when Dorcas looked back up at him, red as a tomato, and all he was able to say was, "quite the opposite, really." Oh, rum.
He took the bottle back and took a gigantic swig, the alcohol burning a path straight to his stomach it seemed, and set the bottle down on the coffee table. "Okay," he said decisively, "no worries, I'm fine, you're fine." He was attempting to get control over at least some of the situation, though he wasn't sure just how successful he was being.
Catching his comment, it took a few moments for her alcohol-retarded brain to piece two and two together and when she finally figured out the meaning of his comment, she couldn't help but giggle. Oh it was horribly embarrassing and her cheeks were still burning but the giggling was an almost involuntary reaction at this point.
"Uhm... sorry?" she offered, not even sure what she was apologising for. It just seemed like the thing to say. "Try again? Maybe... if you get up first..." There was an end to that sentence somewhere in her head but instead she just waved her hand and quite clumsily let her legs slide back to the floor. Really at the moment sleeping on the sofa was starting to sound like a damn good plan. Certainly much less trouble, although probably something they'd regret in the morning. And that was getting to be one hell of a list...
It was actually the giggling that made Sirius grin and feel better about the situation, and he couldn't help but laugh a little himself. Between the two of them, they were quite adept at getting into all sorts of nonsense, and really, despite the still blatant need for a cold shower, it was pretty damn funny. Hopefully it'd still be as funny in the morning. He shifted a little on the couch, getting more comfortable, given his predicament, and made a vague gesture with his hand (before he grabbed the rum and took one last sip for good measure.)
"It's okay," he assured Dorcas, even as her legs slid back to the floor. He was beginning to think they might end up on the couch after all. "Okay," he said, trying to clear his head, "bed or couch? If bed, I'll help you up. If couch, we'll pass out." Sounded pretty good to him. Course on the couch there wasn't much space, and Sirius didn't want to scar her or anything, but with a well placed blanket... man this better still be funny in the morning.
Dorcas scrunched up her face as she put far too much thought into the matter of their sleeping arrangements. Although her thoughts were decidedly different from Sirius's. The bed would be far more comfortable. But it was so far away and there were so many stairs... It was the decidedly daunting thought of the stairs that finally did it. "I think... unless you want to carry me upstairs... couch." Hey, she was capable of making a decision after all! Who would have thought it?
"Summon blankets?" Yet another suggestion that was probably a better idea in theory than in practise, but she sure as hell wasn't going to be able to manage it at the moment. Instead she focused on something she knew she could do no matter how drunk and she reached up the back of her shirt and fumbled with the clasp of her bra for a moment. With a great deal of awkward manoeuvring, she finally managed to pull the offending garment off and gave it a disdainful look before tossing it back over her shoulder. "Much better."
"Couch it is then," Sirius agreed. He still wasn't entirely sure how this was going to work, but it was better than attempting to drag the both of them upstairs, and really, blissful sleep sounded pretty damn good right about now.
That was, of course, until Dorcas maneuvered her bloody bra off, and Sirius actually whimpered a little. There was no other explanation for it - the gods were smiting him. He must've been horribly in a former life. "You're going to be the death of me," he groaned, collapsing dramatically back onto the sofa. With a deep sigh he grabbed his wand and summoned more blankets than necessary, thinking that was his one last line of defense; put blankets between them. No matter how much bragging Sirius did, two thick blankets would do the trick. "Are you done undressing?" he asked, wondering if that was going to end badly (stupidly?) as he settled the blankets in what he hoped was a workable way.
"No dying," she said firmly although thankfully she was far too gone to let the mere word send her into another fit of melancholy. Mostly because she was now fixated on his question and contemplating her clothing. She was not so clueless that there wasn't at least some vague recognition of the fact that stripping wasn't exactly... appropriate? But really what about this night was at this point? And in the end the desire for comfort won out over what muted objections the sane part of her mind were offering and she wriggled her way out of her denim trousers. Besides, it wasn't like she was getting naked. She was still wearing her shirt and knickers. And there were blankets.
She crawled up the sofa and wedged herself in between the back of the sofa and Sirius, shifting around until she had found a comfortable position. Or at last it was comfortable for her. Sirius might not share the sentiment as he was now filling the role of human body pillow and she had draped herself halfway across him. "Comfy," she mumbled softly.
Dorcas may have claimed no dying, but Sirius was pretty sure his head was going to explode as he watched Dorcas take off her trousers and crawl up on the sofa towards him. He'd never been in a situation like this before; whenever he was alone with a woman, and they shed their bleeding clothes and crawled around on beds or couches or floors or what have you, it always lead to shagging. Why wouldn't it lead to shagging?? But this time things were different, and while Sirius'... family jewels were ready to go, his brain was attempting to reign him in through the haze of alcohol clouding it, and this was just torture.
Actually it wasn't torture - torture was then having Dorcas shifting around and rubbing and rolling all over the damn place, and would it be unmanly of him if he cried in frustration? Would she judge him or understand his predicament? Probably the former. He was fucked. Just not literally. "Good," he managed, voice tight once she'd settled down, and there wasn't any damn blanket between them, but she seemed comfortable enough, and she'd probably be asleep momentarily, and hopefully he'd relax, fall asleep, and pretend like none of this had ever happened.
To her credit, Dorcas really would not have judged him if she had any idea of the thoughts running through his head. No, she would have sympathised. And then been terribly mortified but the disadvantage of Sirius's resolve in concealing his reactions to her was that it let her continue on in blissful drunken ignorance. They were friends. And he was being a very good friend putting up with her and the emotional roller coaster that she was on and staying with her to the point of sleeping on the sofa so she wouldn't be alone.
Actually, she really did appreciate that and there was at least some recognition that he was clearly going above and beyond the bounds of friendship here. Sirius was a very good friend and she definitely needed to do something to show her appreciation. Eh, she'd figure out what that was in the morning when her head wasn't all swimmy. For now she just settled for picking up her head so she could look at him. "Thank you," she said quietly and then gave him a soft, impulsive kiss before settling back at his side and promptly passing out.
Sirius arched a brow for what felt like the hundredth time that day when Dorcas raised her head to look at him, then he attempted an awkward nod when she thanked him. "Course," he said, meaning it. No matter how tortured he was, or how awkward it was trying to keep his hips and other bits away from her, he knew she really needed the closeness and the comfort right now. Awkward (and now painful) as hell? Yes. Worth it? That too.
Course that was before she kissed him, and sure, she wasn't being suggestive with it, and sure, she wasn't making any other move (he was pretty sure, in fact, that she'd passed out) but any attempts at calming himself (deep breaths, anyone?) meant fuck all. He was so hard it was bloody excruciating, and he bit down on his fist in an effort to distract himself. Think of Snape. Naked. Slughorn. Naked. Snape and Slughorn naked together. And now he was disgusted and aroused at the same time, and that couldn't be fair, could it?
It took nearly an hour for Sirius to finally get himself under control, and by the time he could relax he was so exhausted he couldn't keep his eyes open. Finally (mostly) relaxed, he was asleep within seconds, one arm loosely wrapped around Dorcas as they slept on the surprisingly comfortable couch.