[The first thing heard from Remus is a mumbled apology, for mistaking Prongs' face as a pillow apparently. Or maybe he was aiming to lay on the floor and missed. Probably that.
Then, a heavy sigh and more shuffling.] Prongs, leave him alone. He doesn't need to hear this.
[He speaks purposefully slowly, so his words don't slur. But James keeps going]
Merlin, you're loud, you don't need to be that loud that close to it.
I meant it's next to you. [another audible eyeroll, before Remus' lungs have all the air pushed out of them by James pushing up from his chest. A fumbled attempt at trying to snag the pen from one Messr. Prongs] You're his godfather, Harry. He told me. You're too young to drink, though.
There's so much between fifteen and twenty. There's loads, Harry. [That seems profound. Was that profound? Was it even coherent? He is very drunk.
He lazily bats at James' hand. No scratching, you arse]
Nice knowing you, Prongs. Died doing what he loved, which was doing things he knew would piss off Lily Evans. [Well, someone's brain-to-mouth filter has been obliterated.]
Seeing - or hearing, really - his dad and his friends joke around reminds him that he'd always hoped to hear about stories like this one. He'd always wanted to be surrounded by familiarity and closeness, his mum and dad and his uncles just always around; always involved in his life; being adventurous and clever; getting into trouble.
He nods, even though neither of them can see him. ]
Yeah - sure. I'd like some. I won't tell if you don't.
[James may be trying to do a little dance of pride-- but it's not really that graceful or coordinated or even resulting a dance. It's more like he's having a fit. Help him before he bites his tongue, Moony.]
But later. Cause I don't think I should floo right now. Or walk.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miavi wiTH VOICE
Harry! HARRY!
[there's some shuffling and no he's not done because Harry hasn't answered but the floor is uncomfortable and--]
--ow. Bugger. Moony that's my face not a pillow.
harryharryharryharryharryharryharryharryharryharryharryharry
hey
you up?
we need you for something.
harryharryharryharry!
[seriously answer him, son because he's worse than sirius with a bone]
in the background of james' miavi
Then, a heavy sigh and more shuffling.] Prongs, leave him alone. He doesn't need to hear this.
[He speaks purposefully slowly, so his words don't slur. But James keeps going]
Merlin, you're loud, you don't need to be that loud that close to it.
janice voice: oh. my. god.
James? [ Because somehow calling him 'Dad' feels weird. He's too young to be the Dad that he remembers. ]
Remus? [ Which is also a bit strange but much easier to say. ]
You all right?
look bitch you love it
I mean Dad
I mean-- look Moony I'm loud because I'm right nextta you, duh.
Harry. Look. You're brill.
[that's it. that's his words of wisdom]
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Can Harry hear the eyeroll? James sure can, at least]
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Uh.
Thanks.
[ It sounds a little like a question at the very end of it, because Harry's just ... not sure what on Earth's going on. ]
Where are you two?
[ And do you need him to come get you. ]
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[the pen is nice, it makes it much easier to harrass--]
Harry!
[Sorry. Pause. Moving around. Using Remus's chest as a place to push up from.]
We're at Remus's. Had things to discuss. Important fathery things. Cause he is one. Did you know that?
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[ Especially because it kind of happened through an anonymous network post, but whatever, whatever. ]
Finding all of that out, really.
[ Having sobering conversations with very drunk adult-figures-who-aren't-quite-the-adult-figures-he-knows is really, really bonkers. ]
Er. I'm not all that much younger than you lot.
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[it's probably best that Remus told him but the betRAYAL son.
smh.
don't touch his shit moony, you'll get scratched which hams may or may not just try to do right now]
your mum would probably kill me if we gave you firewhiskey though--
so you do you want some?
[father of the year]
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He lazily bats at James' hand. No scratching, you arse]
Nice knowing you, Prongs. Died doing what he loved, which was doing things he knew would piss off Lily Evans. [Well, someone's brain-to-mouth filter has been obliterated.]
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Seeing - or hearing, really - his dad and his friends joke around reminds him that he'd always hoped to hear about stories like this one. He'd always wanted to be surrounded by familiarity and closeness, his mum and dad and his uncles just always around; always involved in his life; being adventurous and clever; getting into trouble.
He nods, even though neither of them can see him. ]
Yeah - sure. I'd like some. I won't tell if you don't.
no subject
[James may be trying to do a little dance of pride-- but it's not really that graceful or coordinated or even resulting a dance. It's more like he's having a fit. Help him before he bites his tongue, Moony.]
But later. Cause I don't think I should floo right now. Or walk.