InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Taurus."

arrogant_black (arrogant_black) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2011-03-09 17:12:00

Entry tags:

!closed, *log, regulus black, sirius black

Who: Reg and Sirius
What: Getting drinks together
When: Tonight
Where: A local pub
Rating/Warnings: This DID escalate! So, swearing, and then mentions of past sexual abuse
Status: In progress, closed

Regulus was really doing nothing. It looked like he was playing video games, but in actuality he was only pressing random buttons from time to time as the little characters drove around in there go-karts. His mind was a bit numb from thinking of the same thing over and over. His brother wanted 'something' between them again. Regulus wasn't sure what that 'something' was, or if he was willing to give it. Thus far his consternation seemed a bit unfounded. They had talked once, through text, which wasn't much of an outreach. But he wasn't an idiot, and one awkward, albeit anger free, chat wasn't exactly a banner of healthy brotherly relations. Basically Regulus was waiting for the shite to hit the fan, again, and the unequal distribution there of to unfairly coat him more than any other.

The knock at the door cut through the mess of his thoughts and the sounds from the television. Regulus gave serious thought about not getting it. Though the time to play Vacant Flat was long since passed, what with the volume of the video game up and all. In the end he paused his game, which really just him losing another race and letting the preset story filler take over for a moment, and got up.

The person behind the door was a surprise and a strike at the heart of Regulus' current problem. This was a bad omen, he decided. It was evening, what could Sirius Black possibly want right now?

"When did you learn to knock?" he said to his brother.

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pad_foot
2011-03-22 12:16 pm UTC (link)

"Oh, Christ..." Sirius muttered, more to himself than anything. He just didn't understand why this had happened. They'd been having a good time! What had happened to talking about their groupie Aunt and their Fathers girlie magazines? When had it all turned so... shit? Why had he come out at all? He'd known this would be a bad plan. He could be out with Remus and James and this certainly wouldn't have happened. He certainly wouldn't be feeling like he was doing his best to keep some kind of angry, overprotective powerkeg from exploding in his chest. He wouldn't be feeling so sick.

Sirius wished his brother would stop talking. The older boy groaned instead, clapping his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out his brothers words. He was sure Blackhurst had deserved it, would have been more than happy to do it himself if he'd only known. But he didn't want to hear about his brother doing it, because that made this whole thing so much more difficult.

Sirius wobbled hastily to his feet and Regulus followed at a much slower face, both boys' sense of balance having taken a severe knock in the last few hours. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut for a moment in an attempt to stop everything looking so... blurry. But that threw up a whole lot of imagined images and for a second he was convinced he was going to be sick. Snapping his eyes open, Sirius caught the tail end of the confused look on his brother face. And now he felt guilty. Stupid emotions. What good were they?

"I'm not mad at you," He muttered (or slurred) awkwardly, turning his gaze onto the mountain of glasses they were leaving behind on the table. "I'm mad at him. And for Merlin's sake, Reg, don't fall on your arse, will you? I'm not carrying you home."

As he spoke, Sirius himself swayed gently, and had to grab the table to prevent himself going completely arse over elbow. The world was all blurry and the edges and the colours were all saturated, like reality was throwing himself at him. He rather wanted to go to bed, but he couldn't help but wonder whether sleep was out of the question now. "Shut up," Sirius defended himself as he unsteadily righted himself. "I meant to do that.
Let's go."

And he loped off towards the door, narrowly avoiding walking straight into the pool table. They hadn't even got to play pool!

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arrogant_black
2011-03-22 02:20 pm UTC (link)

Regulus looked all the more confused when Sirius confirmed he was, indeed, upset. Mostly because he'd had far too much alcohol for one sitting. He was very much a light weight after all, when it came to liquor, never having got around to building up the same level of tolerance his brother had. Things computed slowly in his head, or not at all, and his brother being upset at Blackhurst fell somewhere in between the two.

He opened his mouth to ask for clarification. Hadn't his brother not wanted anything to do with him during those years, so what did it matter what had happened to him? Sirius' overwrought conscience for not having done something was a new thing for Regulus to grasp, and doing so while drunk made the task all the more difficult. But then his brother almost fell on his arse, a great contradiction to the admonition he'd laid on Regulus, and the confusion was fugacious, slipping away in Regulus' wholehearted laughter at Sirius' folly.

"I'm coming, twatface." Regulus too slurred his words and was very unsteady on his feet. He decided to blame the ground for refusing to remain horizontal. How was he supposed to walk straight when it was tilting two ways at once?

"You're one to talk." And then he fell in awkward step next to Sirius, less than gracefully missing the pool table, but still missing it none the less.

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pad_foot
2011-03-22 11:15 pm UTC (link)

It was like watching a Thestral foal learning to walk. Sirius rolled his eyes as he regained his balance and Regulus stumbled to his feet to walk beside him, both boys swerving around the pool table on the way to the door. Sirius didn’t return the wave the girl behind the bar offered, too caught up in his own head to really consider her as they lurched awkwardly towards the cold air of the street. Sirius might have managed to hold his alcohol a lot better than his brother – he’d had years of it being his substance of choice, and that gave a person a lot of practice – but that didn’t mean he was anywhere approaching sober as he stepped out into the street and immediately swore at the dropped temperatures.

“Bloody fucking hell, it’s cold,” he grumbled. The moment they hit the pavement, Sirius was shoving his hands into his coat pockets to find his cigarettes. It had, after all, been a few hours. Add that amount of time to the revelation that was still making his gut churn and no wonder he was gasping. Sirius lit two (although it took several attempts) and passed one over, wondering drunkenly if Regulus had any idea how Sirius felt right about now, or how completely he’d destroyed the unexpected way Sirius had been enjoying the evening. Right now all he wanted to do was drink whatever he found in the cupboard, perhaps be a bit sick, and then curl up under a duvet and hope to pass out. God, he hoped Remus wasn’t still awake… Sirius took a long drag on the cigarette, letting smoke fog his already dulled senses.

Still, he forced himself not to think and glanced to the side for a distraction. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of his little brother pissed off his head and weaving a very wobbily line over the pavement. He wanted to change the subject. He didn’t want to think about that anymore.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow. Don’t come bitching to me, will you?”

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arrogant_black
2011-03-23 12:10 am UTC (link)

Regulus thought he was doing excellent despite a ground that constantly shifted its alignment. It was a dodgy ground, but he wasn't going to let it get the better of him. And speaking of dodgy, it was bloody cold and the zipper on his coat was being bloody difficult. In the end he decided to fuck it and just pulled the sides closed and held them against his body with his arms.

Until his brother was passing him a cigarette, and he couldn't turn down that. He moved one arm away and the cold rushed in again. There was a moment of fiddling with the contraption again but in the end he gave up and focused on the cigarette. He decided it was worth the cold.

"Psssh, I've had wors-" he waved his hand, and then one thing went right for him that evening, though, at the time it most decidedly did not seem like it. He took a wrong step off the curb, lost his balance completely and did just what his brother told him not to do, he fell right on his arse. The good thing was that he no longer felt compelled to bring up heroin withdrawal comparisons, instead he focused on the great injustice wrought down on him by the evil pavement.

"Split in two levels?! Fucking, sodding bastard. Did you see- splitting into two fucking levels." He was clearly indignant and continued his verbal abuse of the pavement as he tried to regain his feet. "I'm sure there comes a time when both your parents wish that you were the dribbling shot that should have missed the slot. What's more, I bet that thought comes daily." Never mind that pavement doesn't have 'parents' and is hardly created in the same fashion human life is, but that was hardly the point! Fucking pavement.

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