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are we; we are

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“How about… how about…” Drawing a blank, Johnny took a long swig from the bottle of vodka in his hand and tried to focus his eyes. “Got it got it!” He grinned and prodded at his friend, until he had his attention. “How ‘bout… Marcus!” Johnny said this with the same sense of pride that a child might have telling its parent that the collection of scribbles that it had put on the wall with crayons was a family portrait.

It was also almost as useful as this hypothetical portrait.

“Who is called Marcus?” The smaller boy beside him, sat on the desk with his feet on Johnny’s lap, sounded to be a combination of baffled and incensed. “Anyway, my surname is Marshall, fuckhead. That would sound stupid.” Obviously somebody about three quarters of a bottle of the cheapest vodka that money could buy wasn’t going to take things like that into consideration, but it would have been nice to think that Johnny would do.

“I dunno, then,” Johnny said, giving the last of the vodka to the younger man, who was, for the time being, without a name. “Get me drunk and ask me to give you a name,” he giggled.

In response, his friend finished off the last of the bottle of vodka, his pupils briefly blowing out, before returning to normal. “Try a baby name website?” Johnny suggested after a few moments of quite, calm consideration.

“Well, it can’t be worse than fucking Marcus.” He pulled his phone out from his pocket, still holding the bottle of vodka in his left hand as he scrolled through possible baby names. “Hah. This list has Michael right after Jackson.” He continue scrolling, looking increasingly disgusted. “These are shit names. Choosing a name is shit.”

“Give it?” Johnny said, inarticulately. “I got an idea.”

“Oh God.” But he still dutifully handed his phone over, even though he was slightly concerned that Johnny was just going to drop it.

“How in the fuck do you-?” Johnny fought with the unreasonably tiny keyboard on his friend’s phone for a moment, before finally managing to put in what he wanted. “Here. Here.” He shoved the phone back into his friend’s hands.

“That’s shi-” He cut himself off before he could finish what he was saying. “Actually… actually, that might work.” He frowned. “James. Or Jamie.”

“Or Jimmy. Jimmy’s good.” Johnny’s speech was becoming increasingly slurred.

“I never thought I’d agree with one of your ideas.” Lightly, he – Jimmy, now – hopped down off the desk he was sat on. “…Can you walk home, or are you going to stay here.” Obviously, he already knew the answer, but it could still be worth checking, who knew?

“’S fine,” Johnny said, not really answering the question.

Jimmy sighed and got a blanket out of the cupboard. He threw it over Johnny’s head. Johnny made no effort to rectify this fact. “You’re a parrot now. Shut up until the morning.”