Log Post.

[favouredson]

Who: Sirius and Regulus Black
What: Randomnosity, burned bacon, a pissed off mini-goat, and ridiculous amounts of cuteness.
Where: Regulus's cottage
When: Oh god. Ages ago. Rabid and I started this log like, two-weeks-ago-ish?
Why: Because we wanted to play.
Also: No witnesses, unless you happen to be a mini-goat.


The sun was being persistent that morning, and Regulus swore for probably the millionth time that he really needed to invest in dark curtains. It was rather late in the morning, but he wasn't quite ready to be up yet, and instead draped an arm across his face, blocking out the warm light and scratching idly at his chest.

The sounds of the television on in the living room filtered into the bedroom. It had been on for quite some time, unbeknownst to the sleeping younger Black. Either the mini-goat had developed a taste for Saturday morning cartoons, or someone else was in the cottage.

The sounds filtered in and out of Regulus's consciousness, but it didn't actually register for about ten more minutes. He frowned, sat up slowly. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of loose sweatpants, slinging low on his hips. His wand was retrieved from beneath his pillow, and he held it loosely at his side as he stalked to the door, the muscles between his shoulder blades bunching in anxiety. "What the hell," he nearly shouted, when he saw who his unexpected early morning visitor was.

Sirius Black was standing in Regulus' living room wearing star-print boxers. He was watching some sort of workout video on the television. "Good morning sleepyhead!" he beamed, then went back to the Passionflower Tree Position, which involved a bit of twisting and flailing.

"What are you doing here?" Black the younger deadpanned, and then decided he probably wasn't ready to hear the answer, before he walked very deliberately into the kitchen, stowed his wand in his waistband at the side of his hip, and proceeded to begin making coffee. Everything made more sense with coffee. Though his brother had persistently and annoyingly proved to be the exception to the rule.

"I made you breakfast" crowed the other Black, now jumping from one foot to the other in the Grasshopper Stretch Jig. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough considering I have an intruder in my house," Regulus growled, looking over the 'breakfast' that had been prepared. Of everything, only the bacon looked okay, but that was because he preferred it a bit on the black side. He picked up a piece and lifted it to his mouth as the coffee began to percolate, and it hung there halfway. "What did you do to this cantaloupe, Sirius?" he shouted.

Sirius bent over in the Gently Bowing Flower, or what would be a Gently Bowing Flower if flowers had bums sticking indignantly up in the air. The heir to the House of Black indeed. "I fried it, of course. Raw cantaloupe is barbaric. I thought you'd never get up!"

"Cooking things that were meant to be eaten raw is barbaric," Regulus pointed out blandly. He chewed on the piece of bacon thoughtlessly, stepping back to the doorway to the living room and leaning against the moulding. "Why are you here, Sirius?"

The elder Black tottered a bit, trying to touch his heels while bent forward, eyes darting up to the leg warmers clad woman on the television screen. "I fucking hate the Reverse Gently Bowing Flower."

"Sirius." Regulus was sorely tempted to point his wand at the older man. "Why are you here and ungodly-o'clock in the morning?" It wasn't really that early, but any time a.m. was too early to be dealing with Sirius Black.

Straightening back up [with a popping from his back he chose to ignore], Sirius looked over his shoulder at his brother. "I'm overexposing you. I don't care what you bloody say, I think it's worth a shot, and you're a prat." His attention turned back to the television. "I've never understood leg warmers. Why not just wear trousers if your legs are so cold?"

Regulus's lips firmed into a line, hands balling into fists. "Get out," he growled, voice low and angry. "I didn't agree to this, but perhaps it's worked already because I want to bloody kill you."

"Why won't you even try it!" snapped Sirius, not even pretending to watch the workout anymore. He spun around, hands on his hips. "Do you want to be- forever? Its worth a fucking shot isn't it!"

"Be what, exactly?" Regulus snapped. "A sick, twisted fuck? It's done me well so far in my life, why the hell not just continue along the way I have been?" His hazel eyes were dark and angry, a strange stormy mix of grey and green. "Just fuck off, alright? I'm not another of your projects that needs fixing. I don't want this," he waved his hand rather uselessly at the exercise video. "Do you want me to hate you, Sirius?"

Sirius' gaze faltered. "Well, hate I could handle, you know. I'm quite adept at hate." He fairly mumbled the last bit. "And it wouldn't be so hard for you."

The younger Black really couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I have never hated you," he murmured in an equally hushed tone. "And I wouldn't even know where to start. You have no idea how hard this is on me, or not. I write filthy things to deal with it. Is that not enough for you? I don't want to hate you. And you'd have to do a lot more than burn my cantaloupe to get me there, anyway."

The other pureblood cracked a grin at the last bit, still looking a bit awkwardly off to the side. "Watch out, it'll be your fucking honeydew next."

"I don't like honeydew," Regulus deadpanned. "Just...stop with the schemes, alright? I won't try to molest you any more, and we can just not spend much time around each other." He snorted. "Maybe I'll start screening the pornography so you can't see it," he added in a grumble.

Sirius glared. "Oh no you don't. You're not cutting me out of your life because you're a fucking daft twat. I wore my favourite pants for you, for fuck's sake."

"If I hated you, you definitely wouldn't be in my life," Regulus pointed out, the beginnings of a triumphant smirk forming on his lips. And then, as he heard the coffeepot gurgle, he realized that it was just about time things started making some sense, and he retreated to pour himself a mug. After a moment's thought, he poured a second as well, and brought it into the living room for Sirius. "I can make you some tea instead, if you'd prefer."

"I do," replied Sirius, who was frankly quite high maintenance. "With milk and sugar." He flipped off the television and trailed his brother into the kitchen, pinching his cheek as he passed. "I let Procyon out, by the way."

While coffee was to be made by hand, Regulus was not so specific with his tea, and especially not with his tea which was intended for his prat of a brother, and he flicked his wand distractedly at the kettle, filling it and then putting it to a boil. "You can fix it yourself," he sniffed, moving to curl up in his favourite squashy chair, a ball of Nursing A Caffeine Addiction. "Let him out where?" he muttered, realization slowly dawning on him. "You'd best go get him now," he growled, louder. "If he gets eaten, it's on your head."

The elder Black rolled his eyes. "I let him out to do his goaty business." He paused. "Uhm. Isn't that what you do?"

"You have to stay out there with him," Regulus snapped, getting out of his chair again and stalking to the door. "A Thestral would consider him Bite-size, you twat." Luckily, there was a shivering black ball of goatling curled up on the doorstep, his hair looking a little more scraggly and mussed than usual. Regulus lifted the little creature into his arms, where it instantly burrowed into the crook of his elbow.

"I didn't know he had to be supervised to use the toilet," mumbled Sirius, fixing his tea. "You should have that Thestral put down." He brightened. "Did it get knocked up by the unicorn yet?"

"Well, I haven't had a vet around or anything," Regulus replied, more calmly for the goat's sake, "but they seem to be going at it less, so probably. She seems to be getting rounder about the middle, as well...though she's been eating better so that could be part of it."

Tea in hand, Sirius crossed the kitchen to usurp Regulus' favourite squashy chair just before his brother could take his seat there again. He reached out, stroking the little goat between the tiny horns, perhaps in apology for unknowingly abandoning him. "So you really don't think I'm like custard or pancakes?"

"I don't particularly like pancakes," Regulus responded spitefully, retreating to the couch since his brother had so rudely taken his chair. "So you might be like them. A little." Once he'd sat down, he put his mug down on the coffee table in front of him and allowed Procyon to get more comfortable in his arms, the little goat pawing at the folds of his oversized sweatpants until he'd made himself a comfortable spot to burrow into. He'd evidently had enough of an adventure for the day. "Are you really going to be this ridiculous?" Regulus grumbled, somewhat calmly, given the little creature in his lap. "I won't swear off all communication with you, but you will not be showing up every morning like this to do ridiculous exercise routines on my tv."

Sirius laughed, shamelessly. "It was either that or the one with the chap with the poofty waterpaints, and any programme including things called the Crouching Dog Position or the Hiccupping Hippo Squat is a programme I want to watch." The older pureblood sipped at his diabetes inducing tea, eyes closing blissfully. "Its not ridiculous, either. It might work. And I'm not doing this because I think you're sick or twisted, though you undoubtedly are," he went on in a drawl, "but because I do in fact give a small shit about you. So stop being a prick about it."

"Perhaps you are doing it because you are, in fact, sick and twisted and enjoy torturing your younger brother," Regulus sulked. "I have never been a morning person, and never will be, so it also has to be some small portion of masochism on your part to want to deal with me."

Sirius leant forward to lean on his knees, looking quite solemn. "I simply cant be blamed for any masochism. My parents were mean to me as a child, therefore as an adult I like to be spanked and spend excessive Quality Time with my prick of a little brother."

Black the younger nearly choked, eyes gone wide, and he lifted his coffee mug to his lips so that he could hide behind its comforting warmth and avoid commenting on the rather interesting information with which Sirius had just presented him. "That Freud guy would love you," he muttered, which was a bit of hypocrisy, honestly, because at the same time, Freud would have been occupied for months with him.

"Was he the one with the ink splotches that were always supposed to be cocks?" drawled Sirius carelessly, leaning back again. He stretched backwards, giving an over the top lascivious wink. If he was going to do something, he was going to do it right.

"No, the ink splotches were someone else," Regulus grumbled, refusing to look anywhere near his brother. This really wasn't fair at all. "Though Freud did place undue emphasis on sexuality and humanity's baser urges. It was very controversial at the time, and still sort of is, considering how many people still think he's a quack." He emitted a long-suffering sigh. "And for the love of Salazar, could you put some bloody clothes on?"

"Didn't bring any. Was rather worried I'd singe something important in the floo, honestly." He made an affronted face, gesturing to his boxers. "You don't like my constellations? They're glow in the dark." He looked down, mock thoughtful. "You're in them somewhere."

Regulus had been in the process of enjoying a rather long draught from his coffee mug, and this time he did choke as he inhaled half a mouthful of the liquid and proceeded to dissolve into a fit of coughing. "Why would anyone put Leo on a pair of boxers?" he glared, since he couldn't think of anything more eloquent to say in response to his brother's ridiculous behaviour. "It's not a particularly notable constellation in the sky."

"Who knows?" replied Sirius blithely, apparently still engrossed in finding his brother's constellation. Suddenly, he smacked his forehead. "Bugger me, its on the back of course." Before his brother could protest, he'd twisted around on the squashy chair, one hand clutching the back, bottom protruding. "See it?" He arched his back slightly and looked over his shoulder, poker faced.

Careful not to disturb Procyon, Regulus stood up and, as eloquently as he could, retreated to the kitchen to get more coffee, some bacon, and possibly, a tranquilizer, if he had any lying about. Sirius was clearly too chipper in the morning, and not only that, was teasing him on purpose. "You'd better be back at your flat by the time I get done making more coffee," he called, voice strained with barely-controlled anger and embarrassment.

Sirius put his head down onto the back of the squashy chair, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "You don't have to be jealous," he called back when he'd calmed himself. "I cant get you a pair if you'd like. You'll never guess where the dog star is."

"I don't want to know, and I don't wear boxers, and could you just leave already?" Regulus nearly shouted, self-control fraying.

"Since when are you a briefs man?" asked Sirius unconcernedly, flipping back around. "It's right over the family jewels, by the way. And I'm not talking about Great Aunt Persephone's tiara."

"I don't wear those, either," Regulus snapped impatiently, ignoring Sirius's elaboration with all the grace he could muster.

"No?" Suddenly, Sirius' voice was a lot closer. The man had gotten up and was now leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. A hint of an amused smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "What do you wear?"

Regulus was chewing on a piece of well-done bacon as if it were a pacifier, something to keep him from utterly snapping. "I wear trousers," he ground out uncomfortably.

Sirius' head tilted, slightly inclined and politely attentive, clearly expecting Regulus to go on.

"With nothing underneath them," Regulus added slowly, as if speaking to an idiot (because he was), once Sirius hadn't responded.

The other pureblood continued to stare unblinkingly, politely inquiring expression never wavering.

"You can leave now." Regulus glowered back at his brother, very close to throwing the man out himself. Though that would have required touching, which was something Black the younger would not allow himself to do when Sirius had quite so much skin bared.

"Why don't you wear pants?" questioned Sirius happily.

"I don't want to. Probably the same reason you like wearing boxers covered all over in constellations." He picked up another slice of bacon and gnawed on it furiously. "Can you please go now?" he asked, this time a nearly plaintive note entering his voice.

A slightly uncertain expression flickered across the elder Black's face, hearing the undertone plea. "If I leave, it entirely defeats the purpose of me coming here at all," explained Sirius patiently.

"I really don't need you to do this. I am certain I will be fine without your well-meant help," Regulus explained, as calmly and as patiently as he could.

"Bollocks you will. You'll just sit about and brood and be miserable and ridiculous," Sirius frowned. He shifted, a bit uncomfortably. "And I don't know, I feel kind of. Responsible. Or what the fuck ever." He blew an errant strand of hair out of his face, a bit peevishly.

"Yes, well, you flouncing around in naught but pants really isn't helping," Regulus responded, voice a bit tight and growing annoyed again. "If you wanted to help, you wouldn't be flirting, either."

Sirius pushed off the door frame, hands going to his hips. "That's exactly why I'm doing it, you daft fucker, haven't you listened to a single damn thing I've said? Pancakes, you utter twat, custard! Old people who've seen each other day in and day out for so long they don't give a shit! James doesn't even notice when I'm naked anymore!"

"James isn't interested in you!" Regulus nearly shouted. "Of course your nudity wouldn't affect him the same way!"

"You'd get numb to it," insisted Sirius. "You would."

"Either that, or every time I see you like this I'd develop the strongest urge to press you against a wall," Regulus ground out, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "Do you really want to test me? You're wearing my patience thin."

The elder Black's blue eyes were calculating, measuring. "You wouldn't have the bollocks, I think," he decided.

Regulus tilted his head, frowning at the rather obvious challenge. As much as he didn't want to follow through on the threat, for the sake of not getting eaten by an angry wolf, he wasn't sure he could back down to his brother's posturing and still escape with a scrap of dignity. He set down both his coffee mug and Procyon (who kicked a little in his sleep) on the kitchen counter and then stalked closer to his brother, until there was only a foot between them. "What did you say?" he murmured quietly, still building himself up for what he was going to do, wanting to make sure he'd have the self-control to stop himself.

"I said," responded Sirius slowly, outwardly unconcerned, inwardly wound tight, "that I don't honestly think you've got the bollocks." The words dropped off his tongue in a bored, offensive drawl.

And then Regulus couldn't stop himself, and he'd all but slammed the taller man to the wall behind him, trying to ignore the slight friction created by the brush of their bare chests. "Perhaps that's because you never had any desire to see them in the first place," he murmured, voice a low purring growl.

At that, the elder Black couldn't help but chuckle. He gave a crooked smirk. "Why would I? I'm sure mine are worth more of a look anyway."

Very deliberately, Regulus leaned down and buried his teeth in Sirius's shoulder, much more punishment than anything remotely sexy.

Surprised much more than he would ever care to admit, Sirius let out a strangled cry. His fingers immediately went to his brother's hair, yanking back on the strands roughly. "You mad fucking- agh-"

Smirking, Regulus focused and there was a soft pop and crackle of shifting bones, and Sirius was being pinned by a large panther with much shorter fur, so obviously there was nothing for him to grab. The cat pressed closer, and dragged a sandpaper tongue up the side of Sirius's neck and face, paws planted on the man's shoulders so he could reach.

The pureblood snarled, smacking the panther's face and horrid scratchy tongue away. "Fuck off! How dare you fucking use what I bloody well taught you against me, you dreadful little-" he bit off a round of frustrated swears, pushing at the enormous cat.

If he could have grinned, he would have, but the expression that formed on the panther's face was just short of terrifying. Without hesitation, his paws clung tighter, though he was careful not to use his claws; not with Sirius as unclothed as he was, anyway.

"I will knee you in the bollocks you don't have if you don't cut this shit out right the fucking now-" rasped Sirius. He yanked on the cat's whiskers none too gently.

Regulus hissed right in his brother's face. However, he also retreated to the floor, licking one paw with a distinctly wounded air, and then stretched lightly up to the counter, picking up Procyon carefully in his jaws, carrying him into the other room. The little goat had apparently gotten used to such treatment, because he didn't so much as twitch in his sleep, though his nostrils must have been full of the scent of predator.

Bemused and becoming more than vaguely annoyed, Sirius of course followed. His shoulder smarted as he pushed off the wall, and he looked down at a somewhat sluggishly bleeding bite. "Damn," he muttered.

Regulus had claimed his chair, curling up in it and then carefully arranging Procyon up against his side. At least this way he couldn't act on his rather obvious and blatant urges. It was safer for both him and Sirius this way. Well. Maybe not Sirius.

The elder Black glowered at his brother, standing in front of the chair. "This is not how mature adults handle things," he intoned haughtily, as if he hadn't retreated into Padfoot to avoid many things numerous times, or had any right whatsoever to be lecturing anyone on maturity.

Regulus emitted a coughing growl, akin to a snort, his tail lashing back and forth with agitation. Procyon kicked him in the side in his sleep, clearly just as agitated by the constant relocating, and must not have appreciated the noise, either. The panther stroked his tongue lightly along the miniature goat's back soothingly, before shooting his brother a scathing glare.

"Don't give me that face, kittyboots," snapped Sirius. "If you're too cowardly to face me as a man, its hardly as if you've any leverage."

That was a challenge, too, but Regulus chose to ignore it, though his tail flicked back and forth like a metronome, a sort of barometer of his demeanour. Eventually Sirius would get sick of not getting any sort of verbal response, and maybe he'd leave. Maybe.

Sirius stalked a line, uncertainly. He wasn't giving up that easily. Inspiration hitting, he too changed; seconds later, Padfoot laid his ears back, and began to bark as if he were mad.

As Procyon squirmed against him, trying to bury his head under layers of thick black fur, Regulus emitted a coughing roar, rising slowly to his feet. However, before the panther could even do anything, the goat, who was now too agitated to sleep anyway, took a flying leap off the chair and rammed his tiny horns into Padfoot's flank, baa-ing angrily. And the cat could do nothing more than look on in shock and amusement.

As tiny, projectile goats are never what one quite expects Padfoot howled in shock and pain. Those little horns punctured. Whimpering and whining, the dog rolled away from the enraged mini-goat, swiftly morphing back into a very shocked looking man, clutching the side of his thigh. Sirius sprawled on the carpet, and swore something about ungrateful little arsehole mountain dwelling herbivores.

Regulus swiftly leapt from the couch then, carefully seizing Procyon before he could back off for another charge. He supposed Sirius had learnt his lesson, at least. With a little more swagger than was entirely necessary, he retreated back to his chair, though he only placed the goat upon it, nuzzling the creature comfortingly and dragging a thick blanket overtop of him with his teeth.

"Regulus," snapped Sirius, without much menace, as he was really in rather a lot of pain. That little horned bastard.

The panther snorted and turned, eyeing Sirius over his shoulder. The look clearly said, 'And what do you want?'

Regulus turning to look at his brother was clearly a mistake, as Sirius' features were fixed a worryingly kicked-puppy like expression.

Clearly it was a mistake, though it still wasn't enough to force the younger Black to revert to his true form. He padded quietly over to his brother and rubbed their cheeks together reassuringly, before dropping his eyes to the miniscule puncture wounds. Regulus squinted a little. They were barely even visible.

"Please change back," murmured Sirius, colouring a little with the indignity of having to actually ask rather than demand. It simply wasn't how he worked. He pushed his pants up, revealing more thigh, to press on the little wound. It spurted. "Apply pressure my arse!

Instead, the panther dipped his head, dragging his tongue across the wound, cleaning it fastidiously with his tongue.

"Owwww," hissed Sirius, squirming a little. "I don't half know where that tongue has bloody been, you hairy berk."

The panther paid Sirius no heed, stretching out on the floor with his paws planted firmly across his brother's thigh so he couldn't move it, working attentively at the wound. He was sure it wasn't infected anyway, but if Sirius wasn't going to take care of it by himself, Regulus would offer the feline equivalent, not in any rush to revert to his human form.

The elder Black tugged on the panther's left ear lightly, a wry smile on his face. "I wonder if Id be a hypocrite for calling you a weird licking freak." Another tug. "If you were human this would be immensely weird. Not that it isn't already, of course. Ow, too hard!"

Finally, Regulus paused, though he didn't move away, simply resting his head on his paws, which were still placed over Sirius's thigh. He decided that it would be very hypocritical, not that he could comment on the fact. He'd move soon. When he felt like it. When Sirius decided it was finally time for him to leave.

"Oi," huffed Sirius, completely failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Now is not the time, and that is not the place, for a cat nap, you fucker." He stroked the top of the panther's head, then flicked an ear.

Regulus yawned theatrically, slitting one eye open at Sirius, and then thwapping his brother in the side of the head with his tail, before closing the eye again.

"Oof," grunted the pureblood, who grabbed after the damned tail but missed. "Ya cunt, that hurt. And I'm already fucking injured." He smooshed up the panther's face with a hand, ignoring every basic instinct of self preservation.

Regulus instantly rolled over, using the bulk of his body to push Sirius onto the floor completely, on his back. This certainly made his brother much more fun than he had been earlier in the morning. Perhaps this was the best and most effective defensive manoeuver he could have taken.

"Fuck!" laughed Sirius, pushing at the big cat's shoulders. "Gerroffame! Gahhh, you weigh a bloody ton, panther my hole, you bloody elephant!"

Regulus purred, shifting more of his body on top of Sirius. He draped his tail across the man's thigh, spine arching as the younger Black yawned again, clearly demonstrating just how bored he was pretending to be.

Sirius' mouth gaped like a fish as he was yawned at. "Why you little-" he started indignantly. Instead of elaborating, he instead barked a laugh. After a moment of black fur swirling up like storm clouds and limbs rearranging, he laughed a bark, paws scrabbling at his brother's belly.

Regulus instantly scrambled to his feet, and then all but pounced on Padfoot, attempting to keep the dog pinned beneath him. He seized an ear between his teeth, not hard enough to draw blood, but forcefully enough that it was obvious he had every intention to dominate.

After a bit of wriggling and a mischievous pause, Padfoot yawned. What goes around comes around. His tail thumped against the floor.

The panther snorted quietly, not particularly caring if Padfoot was pretending to be bored. He was still on top. He shot the dog a toothy almost-grin, his tail flicking languidly back and forth.

Plan having failed, Padfoot whined high in his throat, ears drooping pitifully. The puppy dog look on an actual dog was nigh unbearable. His tail thumped again, this time hopefully. With another whine, he licked his brother's nose, though whether it was in affection or aiding to an escape attempt was up for debate.

Unfortunately for Padfoot, the panther was not particularly impressed, and wrinkled his nose in vague annoyance as he settled himself more deliberately upon the dog's back, keeping him effectively pinned. Now that he had an advantage, he was all about pressing it. His tail twitched back and forth lazily, utterly comfortable.

Padfoot gave a snort of air as the panther pushed down, seemingly defeated. A few short seconds passed, until Padfoot's head suddenly whipped around and chomped onto the big cat's face. Not hard, but a threat; the dog breath was almost enough in itself.

A low rumble of a growl erupted from the panther's throat, and he batted at Padfoot's head with a paw, trying to remove his muzzle from the dog's mouth. When the first cuff didn't work, he repeated the action, this time much harder, but still without claws. His tail lashed back and forth angrily; he was Not Amused.

Ears back, Padfoot let out an insistent whine, jaw tensing slightly. Said whine seemed to communicate something along the lines of, I'll eat your whiskers if I have to.

How annoying. The panther cuffed his brother hard, once more, and then rolled off of Padfoot, effectively performing a barrel roll, and wrenching his face from the dog's mouth because of the twisting motion. He tersely stalked away, back to his Chair, and leapt into it, barely disturbing the minigoat curled there as he found an awkward perch on the back of the chair, his tail draped and twitching down to the cushion where the tiny creature was curled.

Padfoot shook himself, then gave a leisurely stretch. Watching his brother carefully for signs of any Pouncing Nonsense, he padded closer, limping outrageously with every step.

Regulus wasn't fool enough to Completely Ignore his brother, either, and he had one eye half-open, watching Padfoot's progress very carefully, though his body gave every indication of relaxation and unconcern. His tail finally went still, draped comfortably over Procyon, clearly protective.

In two quick movements, Padfoot leapt up on the couch, frightening the little goat into giving a startled BAA! and scampering into the kitchen. With a satisfied huff, Padfoot curled up in the goat's place, and turned an almost impossibly bright look up at the big cat.

Regulus was rather startled as well, and he watched the goat run, an eyebrow rose at his brother a moment later. Procyon knew he could escape to the bedroom if he really wanted reprieve from the dog's teasing, and so he was unconcerned. And made that abundantly clear when he rolled off the back of the chair and onto Padfoot, curling up with him rather awkwardly in the chair, which wasn't really large enough to accommodate two not-very-small quadrupeds.

The shaggy dog wriggled back slightly, making himself comfortable- apparently only accidentally giving Regulus a little more room. He gave an absent growl, as if taxed.

Unfortunately, the happily wagging tail gave him away.

The panther took advantage of the extra space to drape himself comfortably on top of Padfoot, his tail, one paw, and head all resting over the dog's body. In order to make them both fit better on the chair. Yeah, that was it.