Its All Prankmaster Sirius This And That But The Boy Was Brought Like A Prince Stuck In A Tower And Probably Doesnt Even Know How To Say A - Tumblr Posts
( remus )
To prod at Sirius’ ego is the equivalent of poking a dog with a really long stick and then throwing it for your own amusement. ( & it was worth it. ) Remus sat there, his legs crossed. “——i said what i said, you suck less, you should be honoured.” He pressed his lips together to suppress the feeling of giddiness. He failed when Sirius launched a pillow at him: “Haha!” that hits him smack in the forehead and plops down onto his lap. “Okaaaaaay, you do a bit of a tidy job when it comes to sucking less.”
The welsh boy wrapped his arms around the pillow, honey-brown eyes staring at his friend. “But in my defense, that was five minutes. You sucked even less then.” Remus had a similar smile to Sirius’, just less daring and more amused by their bickering. He liked this ; it was comforting to say at least, and Remus thought that his scars would scare anyone off. “Hm? Impress me?” He rests his chin - a small scar just under it hidden away by the soft material - on the pillow and blinks.
He wrapped his arms tighter, thinking to himself and humming softly. As Remus was contemplating on what Sirius could do, he reached out, said his thanks softly and rummaged his hand through the bag to grab a candy. “Have you ever tried to write on someone’s face??? A bit of a muggle prank, if you will.”
❝ gaining points then? lupin you should have told me this was all part of a test ❞ it came out as more hurt-sounding than it should be, and the grin on his face afterward is a sign of how much he is liking to walk in the skin of the carefree, silly boy he can truly be. no—strictly prepared politeness and protocols, no rehearsed serene look on his face. just shared jokes and shared candy in a bed that’s not his. a smile that doesn’t come out right away but it’s just there, promised but not offered in the mouth of the boy sitting in front of him; choosing not to sleep.
❝ writing? ❞ a moment after, he can’t help but repeat—couple of quick blinks and his head slightly tilted to the side; eyes searching for an answer in the other’s face that he can’t quite grasp for now, much as he tries. true—when it came to games and pranks he wasn’t set to be the most versed kid in the world: a life separated from other children his age and a mother who wouldn’t allow nonsense like that, made him and his brother more of makeshift inventors when it came to passing time ( reading to each other, make-believe after lights went off ). and if you added the muggle factor to any of that ( if he dared so tentatively called it like that ) he hardly could see a reason why writing on someone’s face could be considered any fun.
not that he’d admit so easily, no. his growing pride definitely not ready to take a strike like that from someone as admittedly cool as remus lupin, from all things.
❝ yeah, sure. that—that’d be something. ❞ he tried to pass it off as a mere difficulty with attention a minute ago, something to do with how late it is, how tired he might be to catch the whole sentence at first ( come on! you have minutes now, get your head on the task, black ) ❝ now that does mean we have two candidates—or victims, should i say, to decorate at our will. would you—care to choose which one goes first, or should i…? ❞
quill, he’s gonna need his quill now, isn’t he?