(for the sentence starter for a fic👀 have fun!!)
There is a noise coming from the door, but it's not a knock nor an exaggerated clearing of a throat - both of which would have been expected.
There is a noise coming from the door, but it's not a knock nor an exaggerated clearing of a throat - both of which would have been expected.
Slowly, Theo closes the algebra textbook (mostly ignored on his lap, anyway) and turns his gaze towards the door, where the noise is raising in volume. At the foot of the bed Popper perks his fluffy white head up, tail beginning to wag in excitement.
The noise in question is a very slurred rendition of a polish nursery rhyme which sounded to Theo like some mish-mash of twinkle twinkle little star and the sound of music, which they watched late last night when nothing else was on. Boris had been weirdly into it.
Theo groans, allowing his head to fall back onto the pillow and, only half regretting it, calls, “It’s open, dickhead!” to the Slavic bard on the other side of his bedroom door.
The door swings open as feverishly as it always does, knob hitting against the same spot on the drywall that Theo has covered with a cheap poster he took from history class to hide the growing hole. Boris announces, “Potter!” and stumbles the rest of the way across the floor to Theo’s bed, where he unceremoniously falls face down onto. He lands both on Theo’s ankles and Popchik’s tail. Two guesses who makes the loudest complaint.
“I told you not to get fuckin’ drunk without me!” Theo spits, attempting to keep the whine out of his voice. Boris waves a lazy hand, pinkie finger catching on a thick black curl. He mumbles something Theo can’t make out as Popchik sniffs at his ear.
Then, the same hand comes to rest on one of the ankles Boris fell on, thumb softly moving back and forth as if to smooth away any pain he’d caused, and says clearer, “Has been long day, Potter. I’ve missed you,” and Theo knows he won’t stay mad for long.
