Of vintage flicks and coffee with a mind of its own

I don’t often go out and be social on my own. More often now, ‘course, tryin’ to give the clone his space and sorta try this being a single number ‘stead of a double. S’pose I gotta get used to it if things continue the way I think they will with Astair. We never discuss what’d happen, if she’d move in or he’d move out, but whatever the future…

I take a deep breath and grab up the coffee pot. I need company. Just can’t be a me. So I figure I’ll take Coffee to visit it’s pal. Poor bloke’s probably bein’ a mope, too. Hope a nice little cuppa with Coffee’ll cheer ‘im up.

Coffee sorta glorps to a stop against the side of the pot and I shake it with a sigh. “Come on, eh? Gonna see your mate. Your coffee mate. Heh.”

A little tendril extends out from the glorp and inches tentatively toward the spout. “That’s right, your pal Mr. Nickerson! You liked ‘im! Think he liked you too!”

I watch it liquidify and pour slowly into the vacuum flask. “Aww, don’t be sullen. Sorry I haven’t taken you to see ‘im in a while! Buck up! You gotta cheer ‘im up. He’s been feelin’ lonely.”

I look down into the top. It swirls around a mo and then settles down for the ride. “That’s a beverage,” I say fondly and screw on the lid.

With vacuum flask in hand, I head out the door, down the stairs, and Apparate to South Kensington to Babsy’s townhouse. Then I jog up the stairs and knock on the door.

“Oi! H’llo! Anybody hoooooome? Yoooooooohooooooooo!”

It takes a bit, but the door finally opens and Neddy pokes his shaggy head out, already looking puzzled.

“Oh!” he says, opening the door wider and smiling a little, “Hello George. I’m afraid that Blaise is… away at the moment.”

“Can’t be helped, I s’pose,” I say with a shrug. “Besides, Coffee was gettin’ mopey. So I figured I’d take it out, cheer it up a bit.”

“That’s nice of you,” Neddy smiles and then addresses the flask, “Good afternoon. I hope you’re well.”

We hear a metallic tinging noise from the flask. “Oh! Oi, s’pose I should open it up, you two can chat each other up proper-like. Mind if we pop on in, or we interrupting anything?”

“Well, as I said Blaise isn’t home…” he starts, then cuts himself off, blushing furiously, “That is… uh… yes, please come in. I wasn’t doing anything in particular.”

“Ta,” I say, stepping in. “Much obliged. Now we can release the little devil.” Ned closes the door and I unscrew the cap. Then I tip it to the side. I little glop sneaks up to the edge.

“Hello again,” Ned tells it, “Would you both like to come into the sitting room? I need to turn off the television- I was watching a movie.”

“What movie?” I ask, holding the cup of the flask out and shaking a bit of coffee into it so’s it and Ned can chat up proper.

“Oh,” Ned ducks his head, lookin’ sheepish, “The Maltese Falcon. I’m not a big fan of new movies.”

Well, that just tickles me bubblegum, blushin’ bride, and any other shade o’ pink! “Really now?! Well, you happen to be talkin’ to a true appreciator o’ vintage.”

“Really?” Neddy smiles, motioning me into a large armchair, “It’s nice to finally meet someone else with similar tastes, then. Blaise tolerates it fairly well, but he doesn’t much care for films at all, so…” he breaks off, biting his lip and lookin’ distinctly miserable.

“Aww, what’s up, Buttercup?” I ask ‘im, rufflin’ his hair. “Ya know, I have the same problem with that bloke. He doesn’t know how I can have such wrinkly tastes. But I tell ya, there’s just somethin’ super sultry ‘bout that Mae West, you can’t deny.”

Ned cracks a bit of a smile at that, “Agreed. I’m not even straight and I think she’s gorgeous.” Then he blinks, “Wrinkly tastes?”

“Let’s just say that twice my age is a tad too young for me,” I tell ‘im. “Well, you met my current squeeze, right? Iva?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. Sorry.” He says, looking sheepish, “You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve not been… quite myself the past week.”

“S’alright,” I say, handing him the cup. “We can’t all be 100% all the time.”

He peers down into the cup, and smiles, “Oh, hello. I’ve been ignoring you dreadfully, haven’t I?” he glances up at me, “You and it won’t be offended if I don’t drink it, will you? I don’t usually fancy coffee… drinking it anyway.” He adds hastily.

“Nah, think that’s why the little cuppa likes ya so much,” I dismiss. “You’re not a barbarian, and you’re not half-bad at makin’ conversation at that.”

“Well, thanks.” He says smiling, “The same to you too. How are things at your shop? I’m sorry I haven’t had time to come by…” he blushes pink, probably rememberin’ all I said bout him comin’ in.

“Busy,” I answer. “Between that and our other business, we’re not bored, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad. Can I get you anything? Er… coffee?” he says, glancing back at the cup, “Maybe some tea?”

“You askin’ me or Coffee?”

“Either,” he shrugs, smiling, “I have some biscuits too, if you’d like. I made them this morning.”

“Biscuit for each, sure,” I answer. “And a cuppa tea for me, but only if you’re makin’ a pot anyway.”

“I’ll be right back with it then,” he smiles, “If you like, feel free to start the film up again while the tea’s brewing. I was right near the beginning anyway.”

Ned sets the cup on the table and heads off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving me to get comfortable with the flask filled with the rest of our fantabulous coffee. I choose a super-cushy lookin’ seat and flop down in it, snugglin’ extra-snug into the cushion. The coffee in the flask sloshes cheerily and I tip the flask back, lettin’ a bit of it pour into my mouth. Mmm, delish.

Ned’s only gone a few minutes before he emerges from the kitchen bearing a tea tray complete with pot and biscuits stacked high.

“Here you both are.” He smiles, “Please help yourself.”

“Ta,” I say and pour myself a cuppa, then take a biscuit and lower it into the flask’s lid. The coffee hardens, so’s the biscuit’s stuck at a jaunty angle, half-submerged. I grin and pick up a biscuit for myself.

“Um, I hope you and…Coffee won’t think me rude for asking,” Ned says, pouring himself his own cup, “but does it… eat the biscuit? Or what?”

I scratch my chin. “Ya know, not really sure. I never fed it anything before, so guess we’ll see. S’pose it’ll just sorta poke holes in it, or maybe turn liquid and dissolve it.”

“Oh.” Ned seems to consider that, “How interesting. Oh, I meant to ask, how’s your brother? Blaise said you’re a twin, too.”

“Too? Is Babsy hiding something, or are you the multiple?” I ask, raisin’ a curious eyebrow. “And Fredgie’s fine.”

“It’s me.” Ned smiles, “My sister Josie and I are twins. She’s at university in Dublin.”

“Uni, eh?” I ask with a grin. “She roundin’ her ejamacation with muggle know-how, or are you muggle-born?”

“Half blood.” He answers, sipping his tea, “Mother’s non-magical and so is Josie. Only Dad and I have magic. Though I hardly ever use it anyway, so I don’t know if I count.”

I scoff at this. “Sure you count! Must be sorta weird, your twin all that different and such. Wouldn’t quite know what to make of it if Fredgie was a squib. But come to that, wouldn’t make all that much difference anyhow. Magic or no, twins are twins. You two close?”

“Oh yes,” Ned smiles, but then frowns a little, “Well, yes, we’re very close, but Josie… she’s about as complete an opposite from me as you can get. So we don’t agree on much.”

“Ah come on,” I say, leaning back in my chair and picking up another biscuit. “You both like blokes. And you’re both in the UK. And ya love each other. Wouldn’t quite call that complete opposites.”

“No I suppose not.” He agrees, then grins, “And how do you know my sister likes blokes? Maybe being gay runs in the family.”

“Call it twintuition,” I say. “And ‘sides, if she didn’t like blokes, you’d still have something in common on that front. But all differences aside, when it comes to twin, the twin-love’s really the only thing that counts.”

“Of course.” Ned smiles, “She’s a doll, really she is, and I love her to death. I kept pestering her to go to Oxford, but I think she was dying to get as far away from Mama and Dad as possible. Not that there’s anything wrong with my parents, mind, but Josie’s very independent, and Mama… well, Mama likes to be in charge of everything.”

“As mums will be,” I agree. “Mine’s been after me a bit about my dating preferences.”

“Thankfully my parents have no problem with my dating preferences,” He smiles, then looks a bit puzzled, “What’s wrong with dating older women?”

“Well, they’re all around Mum’s age, first off,” I say with a shrug. “And second, I’ll never have kids. Apparently she wants me to breed. I woulda thunk she wouldn’t want the future of impressionable minds in my hands.” I smirk. “But then again, they already sorta are, what with the clone’s and my joke shop. Also spendin’ time with Aley, teachin’ him to make disgusting lookin’ food.”

Neddy grins, “I’m sure you’re good with kids. You seem the type. And I can relate about the breeding bit. Mama is terribly distressed that if she wants grandchildren, Josie has to have them. Loads of my cousins already have kids of their own, so of course, the pressure is on. Never mind that we’re only twenty.”

I snort. “So, adopt! Then you wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout them unsightly stretchmarks or the like.”

Neddy chuckles, “Oh yes, I can see the look on Blaise’s face when I bring that subject up. He’d bolt for China or something.” He gets that depressed look on his face again. Seems he’s missin’ his Babs pretty bad.

“To pick out a kid?” I ask and poke ‘is side. “Soz, guess it’s an American joke. Gay couple with a Chinese kid.”

He lets out a little squeak at the poke, then smiles, “I don’t know if I’d want kids anyway. I’m not much good with them. They sort of frighten me.”

“You get on with me well enough,” I point out, “and I’ve been told by numerous folks I’m just a big five-year-old.”

“You don’t seem that immature to me.” Ned says, shrugging, “It’s not just me not liking kids- they don’t like me either. My cousins’ kids all cry when they see me.”

“The trick with kids,” I tell ‘im, “is not to let ‘em see you’re uncomfortable. It’s like cats. Cats can sense it just like kids. Only with cats, if you’re not comfortable with ‘em, they give you extra attention just to unnerve ya more!”

“I’ve never had a cat,” Neddy tells me, “but we always had kneazles. My dad works with animals, you see.” He grins. “Blaise hates cats, you know. He said you had a kneazle.”

“Reggie,” I supply. “Yeah, she’s a princess, she is. We got ‘er the same day Babs got his snoozer of an owl, fact. Twas the first time we say him since school.”

“Poor Rafi,” Ned murmurs. “He hasn’t been himself since Blaise went away. He’s been awake all the time and he’s not eating well.”

“Woah there!” I gasp. “That owl, awake?! I thought ‘e sleep-flew!”

“So did I,” Neddy agrees. “But he seems to have gotten insomnia. I just don’t understand. Blaise hardly pays him any attention, so I didn’t think he’d miss him that much.”

“Sorta like that white noise. While it’s there, ya just don’t notice, but when ya don’t hear it anymore, can’t sleep.”

“I suppose so.” He smiles. “Shall we put on the movie? It might be nice to have some company, if you’re not too busy.”

“Sure,” I answer, snuggling back against the cushion. “Start ‘er up!”