Chatty Boys
I'm bored.
So what? I am too.
No, I mean, I'm really bored, Sirius.
Ew.
... What? What's wrong? Sirius?
You're using that tone again.
Er, which tone are you talking about?
That whiny one you stole from me. You do it so badly! It's disgusting. Absolutely vile, I tell you.
And you had to decide this now, did you?
Well, it's hardly my fault you don't do it properly.
Yes, it is.
No, it's not.
Is so.
Not.
So.
No. Way.
Yes way, you prat.
No, really, it's not!
All right, fine. I give up. Why isn't it?
Because I do it properly. Since you're attempting to mimic me, and we've already established that I do it properly, it's got to be you that's at fault.
You know, mate, I was wondering -- have I ever told you that you really are an absolute wanker?
Frequently. Particularly in the middle of the night, when you're trying to sleep and I'm--
I know what you're doing.
Hey, I'm not doing it now!
Thank Merlin, since I don't think I'd be able to talk to you if you were...
You're such a prude, James.
What? Excuse me, but just because I have some sort of natural modesty, it does not necessarily follow that I am, in fact, a prude.
... wordy bastard. Wouldn't it have been easier to say "Sirius, you're a dirty rotten liar."?
Probably, but it's much less fun. Well, if that's what you want... Sirius, you're a dirty rotten liar. And, you're wrong.
Hey!
Your fault; you suggested it.
Well, yeah, but you weren't supposed to actually say it!
Too late.
Prat.
Maybe you should include warning labels with everything you say, and then I'd be able to tell whether or not you're actually serious.
I'm always Siri--
Don't you dare!
Aw, but Jame--
Look, wanker, I'd already heard that joke a zillion times five minutes after meeting you. It hasn't improved with age, trust me.
You're such a bloody spoilsport tonight, Potter. You won't let me do anything fun!
Now that's not true, and you know it.
Oh really? Prove it. Name just one fun thing you'll let me do.
Okay. Er. Fun according to whom?
According to me. And you're stalling; stop it.
Fine, fine. Uh... You can get my Firewhiskey out of the trunk and have some?
No good.
... Why is that, exactly?
Er. Because I finished it last night.
You--
Yes, don't you remember?
Sirius, I was in the hospital wing last night, remember?
Oh. Oh, right. Of course you were.
Damn it, Sirius! You owe me a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey, you bloody thief.
Well, it's not like you wouldn't have shared, anyway.
Sharing is one thing. Letting you drink it all is entirely another.
I always drink the most, anyway.
That's because you've got a lead liver, or something. And you're not really defending yourself right now, I hope you realize.
Phuck. Er... I suppose this means you're not going to help me find something else interesting to do now?
You suppose right. You're on your own, old chap.
Double phuck.
... Um...
Double phuck, with pharies on top.
... Sirius...?
Phouble duck, with pharies on top.
... Sirius...?
Phouble duck, with taries on pho-- What, James?
What in bloody hell are you doing?
Swearing creatively. Want to join me?
Uh, no, thank you.
Pity. You know, it's really quite fun. I'm not even bored anymore!
Merlin help me. Look, Sirius--
[loud thud, followed by muffled grunting]
Hehehehe. Look, James--
Bloody hell, lads, get a fucking room, would you?
I thought we were in one already?
I meant one other than our dorm.
Why don't you go annoy some first year, or something, and leave me alone? I'm not doing anything.
No, I won't, not when you're--
[grunt of effort, followed by a sharp thunk and a cry of pain]
Sirius, you idiot--
You just hit my head on the bedpost!!
... the hell with this. I'm going to find Peter.
Of course I hit your head on the fucking bedpost, you prat, you're phucking sitting on me.
I know, that's because... Hey!
What now?
You said phucking!!
What?! I... I... No, I didn't. Don't be silly.
You did, you did, I heard you!
You're wrong. I said fucking, I'm sure.
Nope. You definitely said phucking.
Oh, for crying out loud. How can you phucking tell the difference?
You did it again!
Did not.
Did so.
Not.
So!
Not.
So! So so so so so!
That's it, you lout, I'm going to bed.
We're already in your bed. Both of us.
Yes, well, I'm going to sleep.
... Oh.
If you get a sudden urge to do any of that stuff that I yell at you for in the middle of the night, please feel free to go back to your own bed first. Good night.
Bastard.
[long pause]
Say, James, could we maybe go down... to the kitchens... and get some--
[soft snore]
... Oh. You really did go to sleep, then.
[short pause]
Phucking bashturd.
So what? I am too.
No, I mean, I'm really bored, Sirius.
Ew.
... What? What's wrong? Sirius?
You're using that tone again.
Er, which tone are you talking about?
That whiny one you stole from me. You do it so badly! It's disgusting. Absolutely vile, I tell you.
And you had to decide this now, did you?
Well, it's hardly my fault you don't do it properly.
Yes, it is.
No, it's not.
Is so.
Not.
So.
No. Way.
Yes way, you prat.
No, really, it's not!
All right, fine. I give up. Why isn't it?
Because I do it properly. Since you're attempting to mimic me, and we've already established that I do it properly, it's got to be you that's at fault.
You know, mate, I was wondering -- have I ever told you that you really are an absolute wanker?
Frequently. Particularly in the middle of the night, when you're trying to sleep and I'm--
I know what you're doing.
Hey, I'm not doing it now!
Thank Merlin, since I don't think I'd be able to talk to you if you were...
You're such a prude, James.
What? Excuse me, but just because I have some sort of natural modesty, it does not necessarily follow that I am, in fact, a prude.
... wordy bastard. Wouldn't it have been easier to say "Sirius, you're a dirty rotten liar."?
Probably, but it's much less fun. Well, if that's what you want... Sirius, you're a dirty rotten liar. And, you're wrong.
Hey!
Your fault; you suggested it.
Well, yeah, but you weren't supposed to actually say it!
Too late.
Prat.
Maybe you should include warning labels with everything you say, and then I'd be able to tell whether or not you're actually serious.
I'm always Siri--
Don't you dare!
Aw, but Jame--
Look, wanker, I'd already heard that joke a zillion times five minutes after meeting you. It hasn't improved with age, trust me.
You're such a bloody spoilsport tonight, Potter. You won't let me do anything fun!
Now that's not true, and you know it.
Oh really? Prove it. Name just one fun thing you'll let me do.
Okay. Er. Fun according to whom?
According to me. And you're stalling; stop it.
Fine, fine. Uh... You can get my Firewhiskey out of the trunk and have some?
No good.
... Why is that, exactly?
Er. Because I finished it last night.
You--
Yes, don't you remember?
Sirius, I was in the hospital wing last night, remember?
Oh. Oh, right. Of course you were.
Damn it, Sirius! You owe me a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey, you bloody thief.
Well, it's not like you wouldn't have shared, anyway.
Sharing is one thing. Letting you drink it all is entirely another.
I always drink the most, anyway.
That's because you've got a lead liver, or something. And you're not really defending yourself right now, I hope you realize.
Phuck. Er... I suppose this means you're not going to help me find something else interesting to do now?
You suppose right. You're on your own, old chap.
Double phuck.
... Um...
Double phuck, with pharies on top.
... Sirius...?
Phouble duck, with pharies on top.
... Sirius...?
Phouble duck, with taries on pho-- What, James?
What in bloody hell are you doing?
Swearing creatively. Want to join me?
Uh, no, thank you.
Pity. You know, it's really quite fun. I'm not even bored anymore!
Merlin help me. Look, Sirius--
[loud thud, followed by muffled grunting]
Hehehehe. Look, James--
Bloody hell, lads, get a fucking room, would you?
I thought we were in one already?
I meant one other than our dorm.
Why don't you go annoy some first year, or something, and leave me alone? I'm not doing anything.
No, I won't, not when you're--
[grunt of effort, followed by a sharp thunk and a cry of pain]
Sirius, you idiot--
You just hit my head on the bedpost!!
... the hell with this. I'm going to find Peter.
Of course I hit your head on the fucking bedpost, you prat, you're phucking sitting on me.
I know, that's because... Hey!
What now?
You said phucking!!
What?! I... I... No, I didn't. Don't be silly.
You did, you did, I heard you!
You're wrong. I said fucking, I'm sure.
Nope. You definitely said phucking.
Oh, for crying out loud. How can you phucking tell the difference?
You did it again!
Did not.
Did so.
Not.
So!
Not.
So! So so so so so!
That's it, you lout, I'm going to bed.
We're already in your bed. Both of us.
Yes, well, I'm going to sleep.
... Oh.
If you get a sudden urge to do any of that stuff that I yell at you for in the middle of the night, please feel free to go back to your own bed first. Good night.
Bastard.
[long pause]
Say, James, could we maybe go down... to the kitchens... and get some--
[soft snore]
... Oh. You really did go to sleep, then.
[short pause]
Phucking bashturd.