AN: Thanks for the reviews – if I've forgot to say thanks via PM, it's because I'm a fail and my internet is naff. I'm a failure, I know. Also, this one may be a teensy bit more graphic than the others, but still not enough to qualify for an M in my opinion, but I know fanfiction have been a bit strict lately (Bitch is not a swear word omg, I'm still fuming about that but oh well), so I thought I'd give you heads up.


Skinny Jeans

Albus was wearing skinny jeans.

Scorpius did not like them one bit. No, not at all. He did not like the way they clung to Al's arse when he walked and he definitely didn't like the way that they made his slim legs appear when they stuck so damn tightly to them. Most of all, he didn't like the way that they bunched up around Al's general crotch area in a way that just forced people to stare. Really, Scorpius hated the things.

Scorpius' loathing for the jeans explained why he spent the entirety of that night huddled away in a dark corner of the Slytherin common room, trying to concentrate on his book. Trying was the important word there, due to the fact that the offending item of clothing was distracting him beyond belief.

Scorpius thumped his head against his book, willing himself to concentrate. If he didn't finish this damn assignment then Albus was going to pay. In fact, Scorpius was contemplating strangling Albus with that bloody pair of jeans, when Albus bent over to pick up a sickle that was lying on the floor. All thoughts of just about anything quickly exited Scorpius' head, replaced only by the image of Albus' clearly defined arse. Those jeans were going to be the end of him.

Scorpius threw his potions book to the floor, stepping on it as he stormed upstairs. He wasn't going to get anything done tonight, not with that mental image fresh in his mind. All in all, he thought, it would just be better to go to sleep. He could get up early, and by tomorrow the jeans would be gone. Scorpius assumed that Albus would have to take off his jeans sometime, and Scorpius knew a perfect little spell that would make the complete annihilation of those denim bastards look like a total accident. Scorpius stripped off and collapsed onto his bed, the thought of burning those sodding jeans making him smile. He was just drifting off, when he heard a sound from the doorway.

"Scorpius," said a familiar voice, and Scorpius groaned, burying his head in his pillow.

"I'm asleep," he told Al, refusing to open his eyes.

Scorpius could practically sense Albus' pouting, and his own lips twitched upwards for a second.

"I've hardly seen you all day," Albus said, as Scorpius felt Al's weight on the end of his bed, "What's up?"

"Nothing," muttered Scorpius, his eyes still closed, "Go away."

Scorpius felt a gentle hand on his chest, and he jerked away quickly.

"You never even told me what you thought of my new jeans," Albus said, sounding hurt.

Scorpius opened his eyes, and an instant later he wished that he hadn't. Albus was crouched above him, still wearing those damn trousers.

"They're awful," Scorpius told him, "They're vile. They're repulsive. They're disgusting," Scorpius' eyes couldn't help but drift downwards. He swallowed, trying to make his throat less dry, "They're tight."

Albus laughed, "They're not that bad. You like them really." To prove his point, Albus wiggled his hips a little. Scorpius groaned and closed his eyes again – another image that would keep him up all night.

"I definitely don't like them," Scorpius couldn't help but look now, and his statement wasn't exactly supported by the groan that escaped him a second later as Albus shifted above him.

"Really," Albus asked, tickling Scorpius' neck with his breath, "Maybe it's just the way I'm wearing them. Maybe they'd look better in a pile on the floor next to your bed." He began to unfasten his button.

Scorpius nodded vigorously, "Yes, that would look so much better."


AN: Please review – and you all know the score, don't favourite without doing so. I'm sorry I'm such a review whore but screw it I like reviews.