Act XIV
66. Bother
"It's early yet. Go back to sleep," he growled, closing his eye.
I subsided at once and dutifully closed my eyes for about five seconds before they popped right back open. This was Severus, right? My Severus? Severus who wouldn't get within two feet of me for the first days of our acquaintance?
"I can feel you looking at me. Am I bothering you?" Even half a sleep he was a bit of an ass.
Opting not to answer, I closed my eyes and nestled into him. Apparently this was his idea, and I was completely on board with cuddling.
67. Awkward
When I woke again I was wrapped in a blanket and hovering above the bathtub. Severus was sitting on the commode, reading the newspaper. At my gasp the shower curtain closed with a snap.
"Severus?"
"I had to use the loo and you were sleeping." His voice took on a decidedly whiny tone.
"I'm floating…"
"Well, I wasn't going to prop you up against the door," he snapped.
I closed my eyes tightly and pulled the blanket up to my nose, flicking my tongue over my lip rings. Would I ever get used to magic being bandied about like this?
68. Clothed
The bell over the thrift shop door jingled and I made a beeline straight for the men's rack.
"Ilsa, I don't need anymore clothes."
I gave him my best Snape impression: one eyebrow arched, lips slightly pursed, channeling 'you're an idiot' with all my might. He took one look at me and chuckled.
"You've been learning about Muggles for a month; I think you should dress like one when that bastard, Cumberpatch, decides to stick his dick where it doesn't belong and check on us. Dress shirts?" I flicked the first few patterned ones aside. "Perfect! Orange. My favorite color!"
69. Motivation
I considered our outing a success: three button up shirts for Severus, none of them black or white, and a soft cardigan with sparkly orange beads for me.
He was currently standing in the middle of our room, hands on his narrow hips, scowling.
"I'll buy us pizza for lunch if you wear it." I waved the burnt orange-colored shirt back and forth.
To my surprise, he started unbuttoning his dingy white one. I wasn't sure whether to be thankful or disappointed when I realized he had an undershirt on.
"The ones with the real, fresh mozzarella?"
"Of course."
70. Tattoo
I adjusted the collar and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. On his left forearm there was a faded, scarred tattoo. I turned my head to see it better. It was a snake spilling from a skull's mouth. Severus's slender hand covered it; he turned his head, his expression twisted with some deep inner agony.
"Sev—"
"Leave it," he hissed.
I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his sharp cheekbone. "I'm sorry. For whatever's hurt you so badly, I'm sorry."
He entered the bathroom and softly shut the door. I sat against it, head in my hands.
A bottle of sangria for my wonderful beta, renaid, who doubted the orange shirt... Does Ilsa or the pizza hold more sway over Severus, do you think?