[C] looking for a good time

Ian pitched forwards to catch the pretzel thrown back at him, eyebrows raising in silent triumph when he did catch it. Oh yeah, he was fucking good.

"My guess? Demir."

He snorted when Doc fell arse over teakettle, laughing, then tossing a pretzel at Doc's ass.

"Probably not the best idea to fuck Demir anymore."
The man was a bit too rough, sooner or later he was going to end up seriously hurt.

When he felt the pretzel hurt his ass deacon reached back, grabbing his underwear and flashing his ass at the man in retaliation.

He got back into his chair with a grunt, sprawling out comfortably.

"Smartest thing you've ever said. Fancy that, you do have a brain cell."

Doc mooning him just gave a target to aim for. Which he did.

He threw his arms up in triumph when the pretzel actually hit Doc's crack and settled where his underwear was bunched up. "Oh, I am fucking good," he crowed.

He couldn't do that again if you fucking paid him.

"He's the wrong kind of rough."
Each time they were together he was left in a horrible state, even Doc was smart enough to think that wasn't a good thing.

Demir needed someone less breakable.

"You're fucking kidding me?"

Deacon reached down and pulled out the pretzel, even he was impressed with that.

"Eat it" he joked, perching himself in Ian's lap as he tried to feed the man the butt pretzel.

"I can't believe I actually landed that." He was still elated.

He was quick to defend, though, when Doc perched in his lap. He threw up his forearm to keep the Warlock from shoving the nasty thing in his mouth.

"I don't want your fucking ass pretzel. There's a difference between rimming you and eating something that's been sat on your asshole. Fuck off."

"Rude, my asshole is clean, I just had a shower."

He replied with a laugh, still adamantly trying to feed the man.

"And here I thought you liked the taste of my ass."

Deacon grinned and popped the pretzel in his own mouth with a smirk, it was probably one of the cleaner things he had put in his mouth recently.

"I do."

He relaxed back into the couch cushions when Doc stopped trying to feed him. "There's just a difference between bending you over and being force fed food that's been sat between your ass crack and your skidders."

His pale eyes turned up to meet Doc's.

Deacon gave a shrug, his body was clean and so was his underwear.

"Being bent over does sound like more fun." He admitted with a grin.

The Warlock decided it was best to remove himself from Ian's lap before he did something stupid, instead perching himself back into his favourite chair.

"Doesn't it just?"

He watched Doc withdraw from him, blue eyes intense as they followed the man's movements.

He reached for the pretzels again. A distraction from his thoughts.

One flew up into the air. He caught it.

Deacon was painfully aware of Ian's presence and of his eyes watching him as he moved.

Everytime he felt a desire to be near the man, to touch him, to be close to him, he withdrew.

Deacon was wary of doing anything he'd regret later, they had only just started being friends again. If he made an advance and got rejected...he doubted he would be able to recover from that. He doubted they could continue being friends if it happened

As such he'd actively keep a small distance between them, even if he wanted the exact opposite.

He tossed another pretzel at Doc's forehead.

"You look like you're straining that last brain cell of yours. Don't kill it off yet. You might need it."

Then the game with the pretzels continued.

Deacon snorted a laugh and took another large sip of his drink. Before picking up the pretzel and eating it.

"Nah let's kill it, hasn't done me much good as it is."

The warlock sat back and opened his mouth, ready for the next wave of pretzel assault.

"Poor thing. It's the last of its kind and you want to send it to extinction."

Another pretzel.

And another.

He sent three in quick succession then. See if Doc could get those.

Deacon tried to catch the pretzels as they were thrown at him, sheilded himself with his arms when the bombardment began.

"How the hell am I meant to catch that many? Idiot"

Picking them out of his lap he slowly munched on them, washing it all down with more alcohol.

"You're supposed to be the all-powerful million year old Ron Weasley. I thought you'd figure out some way to stop yourself from being beaten with salty snacks."

He paused to chew on a handful of said salty snacks.

"But maybe you're more like George... Drop out of wizarding school before that class?" he guessed with a teasing smirk.

Then he sent another three pretzels flying at him in quick succession.

"When have I ever claimed to be all powerful? And how old you think I am exactly?" He replied with a snorted laugh a million years was pushing it by a long shot.

Harry Potter references, they made Deacon shake his head it reminded him of the year Ian had brought him a sweater with 'Must be a Weasley' printed on the front of it.

"Never did go to school for it, but I tell you what, I'm definitely better than George."

With a muttered word and flick of his hand the three pretzels came to a stop right before they hit him, suspended mid air. The man gave a grin picking them out of the air with his teeth and eating them.

"Well, there was this one drunken night back around when we first met and you were bragging..." That had been a funny night. Doc had gotten fucking totalled and started ranting.

He grinned when Doc started shaking his head. He knew he didn't appreciate being called a Weasley. Which meant that he did it all the time.

"Mhmm, sure."

When the pretzels from in the air, he just threw more before Doc could get over his gloating smirk. 

Smack bang in the middle of his forehead.

"That doesn't count, I can't be held accountable for what drink Deacon says."

Granted he was drunk Deacon more than he was sober Deacon, and that was the way he liked it.

He shut his eyes and pretzels hit him in the face to avoid any renegade salt.

"You're in for it."

He growled, a grin spreading across his face and he crossed the room in a few strides, trying to wrestle the packet of pretzels out of Ian's hands.

"If that were true, you'd never be held accountable for anything you said." Ian rolled his eyes and grinned good-naturedly.

He scrambled up when Doc strode towards him, holding the pretzels close to his chest protectively.

"You stay away from these."

He lifted his leg, pressing his foot against Doc's chest to keep him away from him.

Deacon gave a wide grin as Ian caught on to what he was saying.

"Exactly."

If that was his rule he was never accountable for anything he said or did.

"You've abused your rite to have them."

He replied, leaning over Ian's leg to try and swat at the bag, he'd get them off of the Shifter even if he had to play dirty.

"Nu-uh!"

He stretched out, keeping his pretzels as far away from Doc as he could, with his foot still pressed firmly against his chest to keep him away.

He'd defend his pretzels to the death.

Well, maybe not that far, but he'd defend them for a while.

A cheeky smirk spread across the Warlock's face, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes, he had an idea.

"Cruth-atharrachadh" he muttered, his accent thickening at the ancient Gaelic words.

He gave a victorious smile as Ian's body was forced to shift, instead of a man a small fluffy bilby sat in the middle of his couch.

"I'll be taking these, since you have no thumbs."

Deacon reached down and snatched the packet of pretzels off of the chair, taking one out and tossing it at the small creature.

Ian was much easier to handle when he was smaller than Deacon.

Ian's blue eyes narrowed into a deadly glare when he felt the tinglings of a forced shift creep into his body.

He didn't get to throw the insult that he wanted to before his body shifted, and he disappeared into a mound of clothes.

Ian burrowed out of the clothing and sat on top of the pile.

Not many people would say that a bilby could pull off an evil stare, but Ian was giving it a real good go, glaring up at Doc as angrily as he could.

"The all powerful millions year old warlock strikes again!"
He mocked, meeting Ian's angry glare with eyes of absolute amusement.

Deacon picked Ian up by the scruff of his neck as he sat back down, plopping the creature into his lap.

"Didn't you say you'd be my kinky shifter pet back at the club?"

He asked with a laugh, tilting his head down at the creature, he had spelled out all those words correctly.

He was going to chew Doc's smug face off.

When he was picked up by his scruff, he wriggled, trying hard to get himself free, but succeeding only in tiring himself out.

He stayed still when he was dropped into Doc's lap, debating how dead he'd be if he bit Doc's crotch in an attempt to escape...

The kinky pet comment had him huffing loudly, the sort of huff that shook his entire body.

He didn't think Doc would have actually gotten that one, in his defence.