Title: Thought Process
Archive: Ask me first please.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nadda, zilch, and what-not. JK has the ticket.
Summary: James contemplates an issue, and makes it make sense. Sort of. er.
Authors Notes: This is one of those strange things that pop into your head at 11:30 at night, right before you watch a disturbing movie and right after you've read a disturbing book ('disturbing book' can be translated into 'text' and 'studying' and 'I don't want to'). Enjoy.
This just wasn't him. This entire Situation simply wasn't suited to his personality. James Potter was an action man, and spent most of his time reacting to things.
It was hereditary, and he felt, would be passed down from father to son for eternity.
Inevitability, and all that.
He also wasn't much at thinking things through, which is what this Situation called for, but James had it on Good Authority that teenagers weren't mentally capable of thinking properly until they reached nineteen or so.
Well, his mother was a Good Authority on such matters.
And it safely explained why Evans hadn't fallen for him yet.
Unfortunately, it didn't explain the Situation.
The bickered. They didn't fight; at least, it didn't seem like fighting. Just scathing little comments about intelligence, hair, body-odor, who looked better in green tartan, and who had the nicer fur (James thought that his own fur was rather fetching, but figured –somewhat wisely- he didn't need to mention it).
James had no idea what to do.
Which is why he was presently sitting under a tree by the lake, nervously fluffing his hair, and watching the giant squid lazily swim laps in the dark waters. It was so bloody confusing, after the whole Incident (which is what the Marauders had taken to calling it, as it involved a Snape, Whomping Willow, full moon, and a particularly feral Moony…well, that's what James and Peter called it, Sirius and Moony never mentioned it, really.) everyone was forgiven and tolerated, somewhat, and things had gotten back to their regular definition of normal.
Until now.
Which if James considered it, 'now' actually started about two months and six days ago, but it didn't start to bother him until Saturday, for some reason.
"What are you doing here?" Demanded the voice of James' rather graphic fantasies.
James looked up at Evans balefully; noticing despondently that her wind ruffled hair was making her look almost angelic. "Contemplating existence. Go out with me?"
It never hurt to try.
"Drop dead Potter." She snapped.
Ah well, maybe next time.
"Hey Evans, if your not looming in front of me to profess your undying love for myself, why are you here?" He drawled, ignoring her last comment, as he was fairly sure she didn't mean it.
"I was looking for a place to study, since your stupid friend is in the library, wreaking havoc." She muttered sullenly, annoyed at her loss of personal time with books, James supposed.
"Remus?"
"I said stupid, Potter."
Oh, Sirius; he must've been looking for Moony then, Sirius was rather wary of books, and Madam Pince took a strange pleasure in beating him with them.
"Well, excuse me Evans, I'm not a bloody mind-reader!" James retorted, glaring at her and wondering why he was annoyed.
Evans narrowed her eyes at him. "No kidding, you bloody git."
"Bint"
"Toe-rag"
"Beautiful Dove"
"I hate you" and Evans stalked off. Really, James thought, frowning after. That was a bloody compliment!
It was always like this, James would say something charming and endearing and sickeningly sweet and they wouldn't shout at each other for at least a week. Evans and him were acting like Sirius and Moo-
Oh.
Like Sirius and Moony. Because James fancied Evans and they fought-
No.
James and Lily bickered.
James stood up suddenly, and dashed to the dormitories, making a quick calculation in his head that Sirius would have been thrown out of the library at least seven minutes ago.
He practically bellowed (He didn't shriek. Men Don't Shriek) the password at the Fat Lady and tore through the common room, upstairs, and paused by the door to the dormitories when he heard two familiar voices.
They weren't bickering.
James opened the door an inch, and peered through, mentally preparing himself for anything he might see.
There wasn't much.
The note-taking part of James brain was oddly disappointed.
Sirius was curled up around Remus like a cat; who was thumbing through a thick book.
"I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry, Pads." He said, turning a page.
Sirius, much to James shock, nuzzled Remus' neck, and blinked at the dusty pages.
"You sure?" he asked fretfully
Moony snickered "Animagus can't get fleas, you git, unless there in their form for a long time, ages like. Alright?"
Sirius nodded, looking immensely relieved, and buried his face in Remus' hair. "Was such a scary dream though, couldn't stop the itching."
"Poor puppy." Remus said in amusement, twisting slightly, and scratching Sirius behind the ears.
"Prat" He said, cuddling closer. Moony laughed.
James closed the door and sat down on the stone floor. He was in shock.
Sort of, it was rather like the shock you got when you made an unfounded accusation and you were completely right (like the other incident involving that Lucius Malfoy fellow and those women's thongs).
'If I bicker enough with Evans, she really will go out with me." He said to himself very quietly, lest the cuddly canines heard him. James grinned and rolled so he was lying on the top step of the stairs, (making unwary people trip over him, and thus fulfilling his mischievousness for the day).
There wasn't really a Situation, not if this bickering was actually repressed affection.
James grinned again in triumph, as Frank Longbottom went sprawling down the stairs.
He was right, and technically, Evans did profess her undying love for him.
Back in the Dormitory, two canines dozed, curled up together peacefully, after a long, arduous debate on who really did have the nicer fur. They both agreed that James' was rather fetching.
fin
Well, that's it! Just a one-shot. Tell me what you think! Thankie.