| Details for Separated by a Common Language |
| Summary: | The brothers MacMillan talk about life, love, and do so in a fashion which demonstrates that never mind England and American, that Scotland and England are two countries separated by a common language |
| Date: | 1938-12-24 |
| Location: | Diagon Alley |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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Angus is ambling out of sweet temptations. With a laaaarge bag. And a rather bouncy air, as of one who is on a sugar rush. He's also got some fliers. Quidditch kit, by the printed pictures. And brooms. One of which has a big circle drawn around it.
Whereupon Douglas is waiting outside, arms folded across his chest. "Took yous long enough. You're no s'posed tae eat it all before yous're even outae the shop."
Angus looks slightly guilty. Okay, very guilty, "I havenae eaten _much_, Douggie! An' it's your fault for no givin' me more at lunchtime."
"Aye, well, naebody likes a fattie, ken?" Douglas retorts, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the wall. "Gin ye'd run wi' me of a marnin', mibbe I'd let yous eat mair breakfast! Fit'd ye get, onyhoo? Ony mints fer me fer my Christmas an 'at?"
Angus sniffs, "Dinnae fash! Yell do fine, y'ken? And I'm in mi finest fettle. 'S no me who's mekkin mah broom gae slower wi' mah hugeness!"
"Fa're yous calling fat!" Douglas sniffs, jabbing his brother with his elbow. "I'd still beat yous in a race, wee man!"
You say, "Will no! No if yes seein' any pretty burds, ken! You'll be stoppin' an slavverin' like a beastie! Wee Dougie likes the Gurls!"
"Too bloody right I dae!" Douglas agrees, grinning broadly and folding his arms again over his chest. "Or they like me, onyhoo, fich is guid enough fer me. An' if yous say a word to mum aboot me an' Malfoy, I'll skelp yer erse saw herd ye'll no beable tae sit doon fer a week, ken? We baith ae us cam back on the train, aye? Aye? Got it?"
Angus gives a cheeky grin, "Aye? Whul, wass it wurth, Dougie? Dus this mean Ah'm gonnae be an uuuuncle?"
"Awa' an bile it, ya numpty!" comes the older brother's response, rolling his eyes. "Ah'm no that glaikit! Look, dinnae say a wurd tae mum aboot Malfoy an' mibbe ah'll gi yous a wee shotty wi' Gertie, fan she's trainit, aye?"
You say, "Aye? Did ye no mean Horace? And summit twards a Hotshot for mah Quidditch playin'?"
You probably suspect Angus is going to play along anyway, and is just trying his luck.
Douglas just eyes him. "Naw. Naw, ah didnae mean Horace. Horace is my wee burd, an' ah'm keepin' him. Gertie's awfy sweet, mind. She's braw. In her ain way. An' how's aboot if yous say a single wurd ah'll skelp yer erse an' ye'll nae get a shotty wi' ony ae they? How's that as a guid plan, wee man?"
Angus is a scrappy wee soul, so he just gives you an impudent grin, "Aye? Like yes culd, y'auld man!" He pats your arm, "Aye, Ah'll nae spull the beans on yon Malfoy burd."
Running a hand through his hair, then tucking his thumbs in his belt, Douglas just nods, offering a grateful smile and a nod. "Och, yous are aw richt for aw that. Mibbe ah wull gi yous yer Christmas presents the morra efter aw. C'mon an let's get oan ae road an' hame before it gets ony derker. Ah dinnae want tae be stuck in bloody London aw nicht. Fa's yer floo dust?"
You say, "Ah thut yous hed it? Ah dinnae have nae floo dist. Dinnae whurry me like thit, Douggie! Ah dinnae like Lunnon much. Naebuddy speaks a bluddy wurd of Inglish. They cannae unnerstand a wurd Ah sey."
"Fit'd ah need wi'it, ya bampot?" Douglas responds, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Ah dinnae need the stuff, wee man! Ah've got m'apparatin' licence, ken? Och fer fuck's sake, loun, turf oot yer pockits wid ye? If yiv spentit all yer siller on fuckin' sweeties an' lost yer dust, dad's gonnae fuckin' kill me."
Angus quotes, "You gonnae luk affer wee Angus, Duggie? He isnae old enuf to luk after th' Floo, y'ken?" He starts pulling his pockets out, revealing a large number of sweets, trinkets and other little objects, including a picture of the Aberdeen Ospreys quidditch team in full motion. "Ah's still got a wee bit left oh mah allowance. I dinnae luse it all."
"Fuck's sake, man," Douglas exhorts in irritation, placing a firm hand on Angus's shoulder and guiding the pair towards the Leaky Cauldron and the fireplace there. "Dinnae fash yersel' an ah'll buy yous some mair tae get hame on, then. So much for saving up ma siller, eh?"
Angus shoves the silver towards the older boy, "They didnae trust me with floo powder, Duggie! Did they nae tell yus? Seeminly Ah'm too 'inclined tae muscheef."
"Yer a fuckin' liability, Angus," Douglas insists, grumbling mildly as he waves the money away. Clearly not a true Aberdonian after all. "C'mon, ya fanny."
Angus trumps on after, muttering, "No mah fult yus lose everything in that sty o' a dorm."