(no subject)
Fred. George. Beer. At least a year after game end.
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George: *sitting at the kitchen table of 3W Diagon Alley, bottle of beer in hand, pointing it at Fred* I still think we should go down and work on the Thing while I'm here.
Fred: *quirks his brow* The Thing. You want me to break the Thing out? *snorts and sips from his beer* Now, of all times, why not when you first walked in the door?
George: Oi, I'm trying to make good use of my time, mate. Got to stumble home sometime in the morning, yeah? *takes another sip* 'Sides, isn't as if we're incapacitated or anything.
Fred: *rolls eyes* You don't have to stumble home, you just have to Floo home. *waves his bottle pointing at the door to the lab* And it isn't like we will be looking at a clock once we start, next thing you know it is dinner time, and Tracey is coming to find us because Millie was going crazy.
George: We could Floo Mill, and let her know what's up. She's known us long enough to understand... though I hate leaving her alone for so long...*ponders* ...of course I can't even say that to her because she'll wallop me and tell me she can take care of hersef, just fine, thank you. *grins goofily*
Fred: *waggles brows* Can take care of herself? Which means I can have you all to myself. While we repaint the lab? Or maybe just blow something up? Or test...the Thing. *sips his beer, watching his brother* I bet she takes care of you too just fine thank you.
George: Yes. She does take excellent care of me, thanks. And yes, I'm at your disposal as long as it takes to test... *holds up his bottle* The Thing!!
Fred: *smirks* The Thing!! *drains his bottle* Now this has been something I have been working on for awhile...and I kind of...well strayed from the original design.
George: *turns the bottle over and only the teensiest drop of beer flows out* Damn. Done too quick. *looks up and summons another two from the icebox* Alright. What'd you change? And more importantly, how much more brilliant is it now?
Fred: *pops the top on his beer after summoning it from Gred* Only the color, and a few of the friendly side effects. *snaps the cap at Gred*
George: *catches it... you know, almost; at least it bounces off of the palm of his hand* Brill. *pops his own and clinks the neck to Fred's* *stands* The way I see it, we have several options. *counts them off on his fingers* one. We go down and play with The Thing. Two. We go to the pub and do this right. C. We just keep drinking here. Thoughts?
Fred: *ponders for a moment* *slowly a smirk spreads across his face* *holds up one finger* Two, Mill kills me for taking you out then not bring you home to bed. One, Mill kills me for the unexpected side effects. C, *leaves his first two fingers up in a rude gesture* We stay here get pissed, and fall asleep on boxes...the same as what we did when we first opened the shop. *brings the bottle to his lips* *scoffs* Did you really need to ask me?
George: *slaps his hand away* Well hell, considering there's only one option that doesn't involve my wife killing my twin, I'm going with option C. *takes another drink* Though I vote beds, not boxes.
Fred: Option C. Good thing I stocked the beer. *snickers* *raises a brow* What you don't think your Transfiguration skills have improved? *long swig from his beer* Then I suppose you will have to share my bed.
George: 'S'cos you're brilliant. *nods sagely* Same as me. *considers* No problem with that. Did for... how many years? Lot. *nods again* *snorts a laugh thinking back on their first few days in the shop*
Fred: *same thoughts filtering through his head, and pouts* Don't have the makings for sluts though.
George: *snorts again* Hangover be bad enough with just the beer, mate. Don't need to shoot shiny drinks along with them. mmm. those twins, though...
Fred: *snickers* *singsong* I'm telling Mi-ill.
George: *points* What?! We had good old days!
Fred: *waggles brows* I still have good nights. You're the one that settled down. Though Angel...every once in awhile, darkens my door. *licks his lips* Not calling her.
George: *takes a drink, smug* I have a lot of good nights, settled and all. *frowns* Still doing that dance, eh?
Fred: *nods, and takes a long drink* I call it the Tango 'Lina. *shrugs* When she wants me she wants me, when she doesn't I don't exist. And when she calls me pookie, I...well... *turns a lovely shade of red that clashes with his hair*
George: *really scowls now* Should I ask Tracey to rough her up?
Fred: *waggles brows* Only if I can watch.
George: *laughs* Nah. Tracey wouldn't be cute about it. She'd kick her arse.
Fred: *sighs* Can I take Le Faye to see Trace tomorrow. I miss...wait she chose Justin. *groans* What is it about Slytherins?
George: Now you're wallowing, mate. *slaps his back and sits back*
Fred: *drains his beer* No wallowing. This is a celebration. The Thing is to testing stage. I just have to find a sap. A Socially Acceptable Person...to test it on.
George: SAP born every minute...or are those suckers? *waves it off* whatever. Point is, we can sucker some of the Hogwarts kids on the next Weeekend.
Fred: *blinks* Sucker form....why didn't I think of that?
George: ...I'm the smart one?
Fred: *scoffs* You're the smart one? I'm the one still running the shop. You're the one with the wifey...*sighs* Okay...you win.
George: *pleased* Point! *summons two more beers* I do my share. And you.. *pops them both open, offering one to Fred* ...it'll work out. *half-stands, hand to the back of Fred's head, kisses the top of it with a large, resounding smack* Come on. If we can't test the bloody thing, we can at least gloat over the plans and plot something just as extreme.
Fred: *takes the new beer and toasts it* *smirks* So you don't mind if she kills me? *waggles brow* To the lab?
George: No killing. We're just... plotting. *smirk* I'm serious, mate.
Fred: *quirks his brow* You're serious? That isn't always a good thing when dealing with are lab. Or explosions. *waggles brows*
George: *amused* I'm serious about not experimenting *cough*or blowing things up *cough* while under the influence... *shoots a grin over his shoulder* ...everything else is fair game.
---
George: *sitting at the kitchen table of 3W Diagon Alley, bottle of beer in hand, pointing it at Fred* I still think we should go down and work on the Thing while I'm here.
Fred: *quirks his brow* The Thing. You want me to break the Thing out? *snorts and sips from his beer* Now, of all times, why not when you first walked in the door?
George: Oi, I'm trying to make good use of my time, mate. Got to stumble home sometime in the morning, yeah? *takes another sip* 'Sides, isn't as if we're incapacitated or anything.
Fred: *rolls eyes* You don't have to stumble home, you just have to Floo home. *waves his bottle pointing at the door to the lab* And it isn't like we will be looking at a clock once we start, next thing you know it is dinner time, and Tracey is coming to find us because Millie was going crazy.
George: We could Floo Mill, and let her know what's up. She's known us long enough to understand... though I hate leaving her alone for so long...*ponders* ...of course I can't even say that to her because she'll wallop me and tell me she can take care of hersef, just fine, thank you. *grins goofily*
Fred: *waggles brows* Can take care of herself? Which means I can have you all to myself. While we repaint the lab? Or maybe just blow something up? Or test...the Thing. *sips his beer, watching his brother* I bet she takes care of you too just fine thank you.
George: Yes. She does take excellent care of me, thanks. And yes, I'm at your disposal as long as it takes to test... *holds up his bottle* The Thing!!
Fred: *smirks* The Thing!! *drains his bottle* Now this has been something I have been working on for awhile...and I kind of...well strayed from the original design.
George: *turns the bottle over and only the teensiest drop of beer flows out* Damn. Done too quick. *looks up and summons another two from the icebox* Alright. What'd you change? And more importantly, how much more brilliant is it now?
Fred: *pops the top on his beer after summoning it from Gred* Only the color, and a few of the friendly side effects. *snaps the cap at Gred*
George: *catches it... you know, almost; at least it bounces off of the palm of his hand* Brill. *pops his own and clinks the neck to Fred's* *stands* The way I see it, we have several options. *counts them off on his fingers* one. We go down and play with The Thing. Two. We go to the pub and do this right. C. We just keep drinking here. Thoughts?
Fred: *ponders for a moment* *slowly a smirk spreads across his face* *holds up one finger* Two, Mill kills me for taking you out then not bring you home to bed. One, Mill kills me for the unexpected side effects. C, *leaves his first two fingers up in a rude gesture* We stay here get pissed, and fall asleep on boxes...the same as what we did when we first opened the shop. *brings the bottle to his lips* *scoffs* Did you really need to ask me?
George: *slaps his hand away* Well hell, considering there's only one option that doesn't involve my wife killing my twin, I'm going with option C. *takes another drink* Though I vote beds, not boxes.
Fred: Option C. Good thing I stocked the beer. *snickers* *raises a brow* What you don't think your Transfiguration skills have improved? *long swig from his beer* Then I suppose you will have to share my bed.
George: 'S'cos you're brilliant. *nods sagely* Same as me. *considers* No problem with that. Did for... how many years? Lot. *nods again* *snorts a laugh thinking back on their first few days in the shop*
Fred: *same thoughts filtering through his head, and pouts* Don't have the makings for sluts though.
George: *snorts again* Hangover be bad enough with just the beer, mate. Don't need to shoot shiny drinks along with them. mmm. those twins, though...
Fred: *snickers* *singsong* I'm telling Mi-ill.
George: *points* What?! We had good old days!
Fred: *waggles brows* I still have good nights. You're the one that settled down. Though Angel...every once in awhile, darkens my door. *licks his lips* Not calling her.
George: *takes a drink, smug* I have a lot of good nights, settled and all. *frowns* Still doing that dance, eh?
Fred: *nods, and takes a long drink* I call it the Tango 'Lina. *shrugs* When she wants me she wants me, when she doesn't I don't exist. And when she calls me pookie, I...well... *turns a lovely shade of red that clashes with his hair*
George: *really scowls now* Should I ask Tracey to rough her up?
Fred: *waggles brows* Only if I can watch.
George: *laughs* Nah. Tracey wouldn't be cute about it. She'd kick her arse.
Fred: *sighs* Can I take Le Faye to see Trace tomorrow. I miss...wait she chose Justin. *groans* What is it about Slytherins?
George: Now you're wallowing, mate. *slaps his back and sits back*
Fred: *drains his beer* No wallowing. This is a celebration. The Thing is to testing stage. I just have to find a sap. A Socially Acceptable Person...to test it on.
George: SAP born every minute...or are those suckers? *waves it off* whatever. Point is, we can sucker some of the Hogwarts kids on the next Weeekend.
Fred: *blinks* Sucker form....why didn't I think of that?
George: ...I'm the smart one?
Fred: *scoffs* You're the smart one? I'm the one still running the shop. You're the one with the wifey...*sighs* Okay...you win.
George: *pleased* Point! *summons two more beers* I do my share. And you.. *pops them both open, offering one to Fred* ...it'll work out. *half-stands, hand to the back of Fred's head, kisses the top of it with a large, resounding smack* Come on. If we can't test the bloody thing, we can at least gloat over the plans and plot something just as extreme.
Fred: *takes the new beer and toasts it* *smirks* So you don't mind if she kills me? *waggles brow* To the lab?
George: No killing. We're just... plotting. *smirk* I'm serious, mate.
Fred: *quirks his brow* You're serious? That isn't always a good thing when dealing with are lab. Or explosions. *waggles brows*
George: *amused* I'm serious about not experimenting *cough*or blowing things up *cough* while under the influence... *shoots a grin over his shoulder* ...everything else is fair game.