trist longbottom is quantifying his existance (numerist) wrote in thedept, @ 2013-03-30 00:38:00 |
|
|||
Tristan had a lot of patience for a great number of things, but when it came to food and drink, well... he just couldn’t wait. He wondered if being a Longbottom made you enter the world hungry and with a bottomless stomach. Logically he knew that idea was 98.7% superstition, but it was easy to fool oneself when there was food to be had. He knew that Hamish was working downstairs and he wanted to go visit him, but he always felt like he was an annoyance instead of just ‘company’. If only that actually kept him away. Tristan went downstairs to the main pub area and let his eyes flick across the room. There were currently 15 patrons spread across 6 different tables, but the evening was just beginning. On weekdays the pub could have anywhere between 10 to 30 patrons, whereas weekends brought higher numbers. Sometimes every chair in the room could be filled. He beelined for the barstool nearest Hamish and sat down, instantly snatching a bowl of nuts from the bar top and tossing some back. “Hey,” he nodded toward his brother and started mentally counting the empty glasses stacked up behind the bar. Hamish pulled a pint of of Newcastle and poured a round of shots of firewhiskey to be sent out to the table in the corner who looked barely old enough to drink. He wasn’t terribly concerned yet, but time would only tell. Grunting a sound that could have passed for a hello, Hamish swiped two empty glasses from the bar. “Gonna order something?” he asked his brother once he made his way to the other end of the bar. He poured himself a glass of coke and leaned against the back counter. “You know, one of these days you’re going to have get behind here and pay off your tab.” Hamish constantly operated under the impression he was the good son, or at least he was the favored one. He worked in the family business, didn't he? “Ordering implies that I actually had plans to pay for it,” Trist responded with a small hint of amusement. He was definitely bad about taking advantage of living inside of the Leaky and partaking in its food and drink. Of course if his mum had a problem with it, he supposed she’d put him to work eventually, but he had a feeling she just liked having someone around still. On good days, Trist didn’t care so much that he’d spent around 65% of his life living under this roof (obviously not to count his years at Hogwarts). On the others, well... he just tried to avoid people who would have something to say about it. Trist leaned over the counter very unprofessionally and poured himself a drink, settling back in the stool with a smirk. “But you are so much better at it than I am, Ham. I need to watch you work more so that I can learn how to keep up properly.” Which could be partially true. Hamish had been helping out here for a while, so he probably did have plenty to teach Tristan about keeping up with the demand, one of which was just being conversationally relevant with others. Most people didn’t like hearing about the fractional possibility that asking so-and-so on a date would fail (he’d found out from first-hand experience). “Besides, I’m probably the only one who actually knows what his tab is at any given time.” “Free loader,” the elder brother accused with little heat as he watched the younger reach behind the bar, not bothering to help. The angle was awkward, but well, so was his brother. It was fitting, really. “One of these days you’re going to get tired of it. Or get tired of having to sneak a girl back to your room.” Hamish shrugged and moved onto the next subject. “I think we’re giving Eddie’s hers for her birthday.” Which reminded him that he actually needed to purchase her gift. Huh. Maybe Trist would go halvsies on it. “Or maybe a shot for every year that she’s alive.” He’d just have to make sure they had a sober up potion because Hamish was not going to be held responsible for his sister’s alcohol poisoning and/or permanent liver damage. Tristan raised an eyebrow when his brother mentioned ‘sneaking a girl back’ like that was actually an issue that Tristan would go through. “Yeah, I’m fairly certain that’s not going to be a problem for me. Ever, it seems like.” Not that he didn’t have a ridiculous infatuation with someone already, but it wasn’t like anything would ever come of it. It was probably for the best anyway. “I can’t really see ever getting tired of walking downstairs to free beer, mate.” He was glad that he had already picked out Eddie’s gift about 3 months ago, because if there was anything he was bad at, it was doing things last minute. He didn’t want to consider what that would even bring to the table - it would definitely not be anything Eddie could use, much less enjoy. “That would be a lot of shots, even for Eddie. And considering she only weighs around 8.7 stone, it wouldn’t take her long to either black-out or go totally mental.” Trist considered that for a moment before adding, “You can take care of that mess, then.” Tristan was actually looking forward to dinner with everyone, though; birthday dinners were usually pretty brilliant. Hamish matched Tristan’s eyebrow with one of his own. “Never, huh? You’re missing something, then.” It was always much more exciting when you felt like you were sneaking about. It just wasn’t the same when you were heading back to your flat. “And if you’re here for just the free beer you’re here for the wrong reasons.” Personally Hamish would stay for the food, but he also really liked the personal freedom his own flat gave. “And totally mental would be different from her normal state how?” Hamish offered before he moved to fill an order of a waving customer. He counted out the man’s change and returned back to the end where his brother sat. “And I’m not saying that she do them all at once, but it could be an idea.” One that would likely earn him lots of disapproving looks from their father, but what was one family milestone without Neville Longbottom’s patented “I’m very disappointed in you because I know you can do better” looks? “And I solemnly swear that I’ll have plenty of sober up potions available for familial use.” And some friends too, depending on how generous he was feeling that day. Tristan should know better than to talk about birds with Hamish. He’d never had trouble in that area and it only served to make Trist feel completely inadequate, unsurprisingly. “Well, it’s not like it’s something I fail at by choice.” He really wasn’t certain what it would be like not to fail in that area; it sounded a little terrifying though. “I’m here for more than that, Ham. I’m not stupid.” He didn’t think so anyway, but maybe... His mouth turned into a straight line as he thought about it more than he should’ve. While that wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t know him well, Hamish could probably recognise his discomfort. After a few moments he let his mouth relax and took a few drinks of his beer. “While she is kind of mental, I think that the alcohol poisoning might put her through the roof... and off to St. Mungo’s. Da probably wouldn’t thank us for it. It’s only been 8 days since he last told us not to muck around with Eddie. I kinda miss the days when I was the baby of the family.” Of course, he still kind of acted like it. Living at home certainly didn’t do much for his case. “The whole ‘blame the older siblings’ ploy was actually really enjoyable for the short while I had the capabilities.” “‘Course not.” Hamish smirked at his brother, but dropped the subject of of girls and sneaking girls into their parents’ home. He knew when he had won an argument and there was no sense in beating a dead horse. It was hardly his fault Tris felt so uncomfortable around women and quite frankly Hamish wasn’t so sure why both of his brothers had such issues. Maybe it was because they didn’t feel confident? If they just fucking relaxed he could almost guarantee that the ladies would flock. They were Longbottoms, weren’t they? “He tells us not to muck with with Ed every week or so. It’s nothing new.” Hamish busied his hands with a rag and few empty glasses. He never was good at being still. “And for the record, you have nothing to complain about with being the baby of the family You took it from me remember?” He threw the rag at his brother. “Besides, there’s always Al to blame everything on.” Simple equation really. Even that math should make sense to Tristan’s brain. Tristan long suspected that their father liked Eddie more than the rest of them, but he was possibly overthinking it. And he knew that was probably not true, but it was just something that seemed to make sense when they listened to how often they got yelled at as opposed to Eddie. “Obviously I took it from you because I was meant to be the baby of the family. Eddie was just an accident, everyone knows that.” He often teased his sister for taking his place, but really he loved her and he wasn’t quite sure where he’d be without each of his siblings. They all seemed to provide him with a different degree of support and comfort that he seemed to need to survive. “I suppose blaming Al does have its appeal. Y’know, I’m not certain I’ve ever blamed you for anything. Might need to remedy that.” Trist smirked at his brother. “Oh, how’s Rusty doing?” Tristan wished he saw the dog more often - he could really use a pet of his own. “All lies and whatever helps you sleep at night.” Meant to be the baby of the family. Ha. “Though Ed was most definitely an accident, there’s at least a 95% of that fact being true, yeah?” Hamish had no idea if that was even true. He was just simply pulling it out of his arse. The older brother side-eyed the younger at that transition. Shoddy work mate, shoddy. “Rusty is sleeping off all the food he’s begged off of unsuspecting bystanders. He’s upstairs probably doing the same from Mum. Getting spoiled, he is.” The dog would silently judge him for not bringing him to work everyday and let him be fussed over. Hamish had better things to do than be judged by something with four legs and sometimes ate garbage. “Bring your kids to work day is utter crack.” Tristan’s eyebrow raised on his forehead when Hamish spat out that percentage to him. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to make fun of him or was just attempting to say something like Trist usually might. Of course, his siblings teased him quite a lot, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. He shrugged and took a swallow of his beer. “Yeah, maybe a little higher. That’s why she is so loud, I think, she tries to make up for being entirely unexpected and in some cases, unwanted.” He grinned at that, because quite obviously she wasn’t unwanted, but he would say so of her sometimes to kid. He shook his head. “I don’t ever give him... much. That’s totally Mum’s thing. Y’know, we might have to get her a dog when we’re all moved out - not quite sure how she’ll handle it.” Tristan liked to pretend that he still lived there to keep his mother company, but it wasn’t like all of the children didn’t stop by enough as it was. Mostly he just hadn’t had the guts to leave and live on his own, though he wasn’t sure why. “You do know he’s not a kid, right? You didn’t bring him to the Ministry, did you?” He could just see Hamish’s superiors chastising him for that brilliant idea. “He was better behaved than some of the ankle biters.” Hamish tried not to twitch at the mentioned. For the most part he didn’t mind kids as long as the parents were there to make sure those that were running just this side of tame weren’t make his job and life harder. “He had no point actually shit or pissed on the floor so let’s count that as a win, yeah?” Tris’ idea had merit, not that Hamish would blatantly come out and say it first. Because that would be too easy and Hamish was never about letting his siblings have the easy way out. “If we got her a dog it would probably become her favorite and then where would we be?” That... was probably true. The children Tristan had run into didn’t have the best manners he’d ever seen. “Right. His not using the floors as a loo is absolutely a win, bro. Maybe you should consider setting your sights a bit higher on that one. Maybe he could help an old lady cross the street or something.” Tristan laughed. He shrugged his shoulder as he finished off his beer and finally walked around the counter so he could wash out his glass. “It’s not like you’re her favourite now, so shouldn’t be much of a shock for you.” Tristan wasn’t sure if their mum really had a favourite - or if she did, she was good at keeping it under wraps. So far as he’d seen, she didn’t lean like Neville did toward Eddie. Though Trist suspected that Hannah might actually consider him to be more of ‘the baby’ than Eddie, considering he depended on her a lot still. Maybe that was partially his own fault. “Seriously though... I think I need to move out soon. Not sure that I should let her get so attached to having one of us here, y’know? It’s not like you lot don’t visit anyway, so she’d be alright... right?” Hamish fixed his brother with a look. Clearly he was the favorite. Tristan was just operating at 100% fantasy. Not only was she not stuck doing his laundry and feeding him (every day), he was working at the pub, unlike some people he could mention. “Dude, should have moved out years ago. I mean, not even Ed’s at home anymore and she left Hogwarts last May.” He didn’t prod his brother to provide more details. He knew very well that Tristan would provide them if given enough time. Almost everybody did. The perils of being a bartender, that. People tended to spill their misery over a pint or fingers of firewhiskey. “Dad’s here more often than not in the evening now that none of us are in school to fuss over.” Hogwarts probably required their father to do rounds more often when the Longbottom children were there. Probably. Likely. There was a chance that statement was true. Tristan put his glass with the other clean ones and began recounting them. He leaned his back on the bar, facing away from the rest of the Leaky at large. “I know Ed moved out... I still live here, remember? And you can’t tell me that you don’t worry about her while the rest of us are at work and she’s here alone.” Not necessarily alone in the physical sense, but without any of the other family members there, Trist basically still considered that as “alone”. Of course, even during those hours he wasn’t home, so his living there didn’t make that much of a difference; he hadn’t really thought of it that way. He wasn’t sure why he was so worried about moving out on his own. He should’ve just asked Cal to be his flatmate, but he lived with Eddie and Tristan liked that because he could keep an eye on her for the brothers (Al was nearby too, but that didn’t always mean anything with their sister - she was slippery sometimes). “I dunno. Nine out of ten times that I’ve thought about it, I just couldn’t seem to rationalise it enough to go ahead and do it. But lately I just feel weird.” He looked over at Hamish quickly. “Would you stay somewhere with me?” It was probably an absurd idea, but Trist would feel better if he had someone like Ham there with him. Bloody hell, he really did sound like a baby. Hamish considered the offer quietly. He wasn’t going to flat out reject it because that would have been stupid, but he wasn’t going to immediately agree either. Hamish liked his independence that came with coming and going as he pleased. Dishes could pile up in the sink. He could wander around in just his pants if he wanted to. He could drink straight from the milk carton. Of course, there was nothing saying he couldn’t do all of those things and more if he had his brother living with him. “Need to find a different flat,” he said finally. “Not that I’m particularly attached to mine, but it’s just big enough for Rusty and me, barely.” The more he thought about it, the more Hamish liked the idea. Sharing a flat would save on costs, certainly. Getting someone to help pay the rent meant more money in his pocket. Hamish wasn’t exactly living paycheck to paycheck, but sometimes it was close. “Separate rooms, though. I’ve had enough of sharing, thanks.” Tristan couldn’t help that his eyes went kind of wide when Hamish responded in something of an affirmative. He had been 95% certain that Hamish was going to say ‘not a chance’ in some way that might sound a bit nicer, so now he was kind of uncertain how to respond. “Really? You will?” He was always bad about asking people to restate something to him, especially when it involved him, because he was always disbelieving that people actually even liked him. “Yeah, absolutely. I wouldn’t want to share a room with you anyway, mate.” He loved his brother (idolised him, sometimes), but he didn’t love him that much. Tristan definitely needed his own space. And maybe that was why he’d waited so long to move out - with the other siblings gone, he basically had everything to himself and it just seemed to work. “Er, are you sure?” Rolling his eyes, Hamish picked up a nearby rag and threw it at his brother. “Yes I’m sure, you git. Said yes, didn’t I? Stop doubting yourself, you big nancy.” Since his piece was now down and said, Hamish pulled out two shot glasses and the a bottle of firewhiskey down from the shelf. Strictly speaking he wasn’t supposed to be drinking while he was behind the bar, but this was a special ocassion (of sorts) and it was hard to knock him on his arse with just one shot. He poured and placed a glass in front of his little brother. “To moving on.” Trist smiled at his older brother, shaking his head a little. “No, actually you didn’t; not outright, anyway.” Because being technical about these things was totally charming. People just loved being corrected, right? It was a good thing that Tristan was so damn insecure, otherwise people would just find him pompous. He was fairly certain any one of his siblings had told him to quit being so insecure in some form or another about three times a week, but it still was a difficult thing to actually take into practice. He accepted the shot from his brother without question. And though he knew that Hamish shouldn’t be drinking while he was working, he didn’t feel obliged to mention it since he liked sharing this with his brother. “To moving out,” he said and threw the shot back. |