Fashion Disaster

Chapter 4

Day 4 AKA 'The Decidedly Normal Fishnet'

James almost doesn't go the next day.

He masochistically replays the scene from the street in his mind like an obsessed fool all through the rest of the day and well into the night. His only moments of reprieve arrive in the form of their schoolmates, Remus and Peter, who drop by for dinner and keep him occupied with stories of their own shenanigans during the holidays, and talks of how the four of them plan on getting a place together after Uni.

Naturally, as soon as a lull falls, Sirius diverts the conversation to his favorite pastime—ribbing James—and he's once again reminded of Lily, sending his mood tumbling down a hill. The boys tease him mercilessly, but for the first time, he wishes he didn't have to think of her.

In a strange act of tact, however, Sirius refrains from mentioning what James saw that afternoon to Remus and Peter, and it surprises him so much that he blurts out a thanks once the other two have left.

"I didn't say anything only because I know it's rubbish," Sirius yawns, slightly drunk on eggnog, "and you'll have changed your mind by this time tomorrow."

James doubts it, but doesn't say anything as Sirius saunters off to sleep.

Predictably, he lies in bed and tortures himself some more instead.

Inside his head, the bloke Lily went to lunch with has conveniently transformed into some tall, good-looking fellow with dashing hair and abs of steel, his face carved into perfection. This undoubtedly stems from James's inability to reconcile the thought of gorgeous, wonderful Lily with someone who has hair greasy enough to blind people from even a street away. Of course, such a shallow thought only serves to make him feel even more miserable—no wonder she doesn't fancy him—but James can hardly control the jealousy that bubbles within him, and fuck it all if he can't act the bitter bastard inside the safety of his own mind.

When he eventually falls asleep—despicably late—it's with a strong determination to put his foot down and not go to the store the next day.

All his plans for self-preservation, sprinkled with a heavy dose of moping and whining, are promptly thwarted come morning, however, by the one person who can be blamed for this whole mess to begin with (if one were to very, very carefully trace back the issue to its roots).

A pillow comes flying, smacking him right in the face.

"Get up," commands Sirius.

He doesn't even open his eyes. "You can fuck right off."

"I can, but I won't," replies the fiend. "I've let you moan and groan in peace for long enough. You've a dare to complete, James, and I'm not letting you off so easy."

The words give rise to proper indignation, and James pops an eye open, glaring. "Easy?! Easy, you say? Nothing about this—" but he breaks off almost instantly, unable to voice his vehemence, his face too busy twisting in alarm when he takes in the scene before him. Both his eyes have opened fully now, trying to make sense of what he sees. "What in the ever-living fuck —?"

"Pillows," Sirius supplies, a large smirk splitting his face as he lounges on the gaming couch amongst, indeed, a concerning number of pillows. He looks rather proud. "Collected as many as I could find around the house. Had to steal the ones from your parents' room."

"Well, this—this is strange enough to be a dream," James says, truly feeling his own words.

"Prongs, you can't keep dreaming about me. We've talked about this; it's extremely inappropriate."

His expression shifts further, one eye wider than the other as he finally sits up on the bed. "We have never—and I mean, never—talked about this. Ever. And just—" he struggles for a second, palms spread out in the air pleadingly as he gestures towards the fort of pillows. "Why?"

He receives his answer in the form of another flying projectile, this time aimed right for his head. James almost knocks his glasses off trying to fend off the vicious attack.

"So that I can do this," Sirius grins, crossing his ankles leisurely.

James groans, too morose to fall for his bait, and flops back onto the bed. "Leave me alone."

A heavy sigh cuts through the air, holding no pretense of patience or understanding whatsoever. "I came here armed with weapons, and this is all the enthusiasm I get? Is this still about Evans and that bloke you saw?"

"You know it is."

"And you know what I think about it. Let's be real here, mate, you're insanely prone to dramatics when it comes to this bird." James glares at the canopy, offended at the accusation. "I can bet your favorite jersey that you're probably jumping to conclusions."

"What the fuck? Bet your own things."

"Focus."

"I'm trying to, but you're making it quite difficult," he frowns, distantly annoyed by the way his glasses sit crookedly on his face, but too lazy to put them straight. "I know what I saw, alright? She lied about who she was meeting—to Mary, at that, not even to me—and the way she hugged that guy, it was—"

"For fuck's sake, Prongs!" Sirius's voice suddenly barks from next to him, and James feels fairly justified when he jolts against the mattress in surprise, not having realized when Sirius had moved closer. Grey eyes glare at him, irritated. "So, she hugged some bloke. What's the big deal? As far as I remember, this is the twenty-first century, yeah? Did you catch them snogging or something?"

Even the thought of it is enough to make James feel like he's chewing around a particularly bitter lemon. "No."

"Then what's the problem?"

"You just had to be there! It felt like—like they were really close."

"Okay, hear me out, here's a wild theory: maybe they're friends."

"I know you're taking the mick right now," he grumbles, "and I do not appreciate it."

"And I don't appreciate you chickening out on a dare that you signed up for simply because you've decided to have one of your bloody episodes over nothing when the bird that you've gone loony over is clearly also loony about you, but we can't always have what we want now, can we?"

James blinks, churning that sentence over and over in his head as he sits up slowly. "You think she's clearly loony about me?"

"Fucking—" a pillow thwacks his face again, the impact sending his glasses firmly pushing against his nose. James supposes he should feel slightly thankful, except he doesn't because it still hurt and he doesn't want to encourage Sirius's violent tendencies. "Ten minutes, and you better be downstairs, Prongs."

"I don't—"

"Yes, you do."

"You can't just—"

Sirius pauses in the doorway, squinting his eyes as he turns his head around theatrically. "I swear I will walk down to the goddamned store and bring Evans here myself if you don't stop acting like a bellend."

That immediately gets James scrambling off the bed in a tangle of limbs, terror coursing right into his bloodstream. "Okay, okay! I fucking loathe you, just so you know!"

"Stop it, you're making me blush."

By the time they've entered the brightly lit premises of Take a Bow again, Sirius seems to have regained all his customary cheer that accompanies any act of making fun of James.

"Well, hello there," Mary saunters up to them, clad in black jeans and a white shirt that stretches over her chest fittingly. Sirius smirks at the view. "What will it be today? A glittering onesie? A cowboy jacket? Neon boots?"

James grimaces, not needing to look at Sirius to imagine the starry-eyed delight on his face.

"Do you have any of these?" he asks happily.

"No. What made you think that?" Mary shrugs, turns around, dark hair flipping over her shoulder dismissively as she walks away.

"She's so cruel," Sirius tells James with a grin.

"Why are you like this?"

"Well, I have to be to balance out all your depressing aura." He rolls his eyes.

"I don't have a depressing aura!" James sputters, bristling at such slight. "I'm just going through a difficult time, alright?"

"A difficult time? Say that to the homeless man we passed by three blocks back," he scoffs. "Mate, you just need to shag Evans. That'll get the…difficulty right out of your system."

"Shut up, you berk! Not so loud!" James yelps. Sirius simply shakes his head pityingly. "Besides, I don't want to shag her—"

"I'll eat my hair—"

"Not immediately!" James amends, "I haven't even kissed her yet."

"Well, that can be fixed easily. She's right behind you."

"What?" he twists around painfully fast, finding Lily indeed entering the store. Outside, snow falls in tiny fluffs from the sky, and when she takes off her beanie and shakes out that long, lustrous red hair, James experiences an extremely cinematic 'slow-motion' moment, complete with soft background music. It feels so potent, in fact, that he almost doesn't catch the fact that the melody is actually wafting through the store's speakers. Sirius sniggers from beside him. "Shut up, you wanker."

Lily looks up at the sound of his voice, and catches his eye. She smiles at him pleasantly, but James's stomach drops somewhere near his feet when he realizes her usual joy seems to be missing from the gesture.

"Hi," she greets, moving closer to them. "Sorry about leaving yesterday without saying goodbye. Something important came up."

"Right," James nods, "lunch with your sister." He makes a concerted effort to not look at Sirius as the words leave his mouth.

But Lily simply rubs her hands, blowing on them casually as she tries to warm her cold fingers. "Yeah. I'm guessing Mary told you?"

He stays silent for a second too long—unable to respond through the despair crawling over his heart—and so, Sirius steps in. "Yeah, she did, because James was about ready to scour all of England looking for you."

What the fuck?

James throws him a sharp glare, unable to understand why he's hell-bent on painting him in an even more pathetic light. But Sirius doesn't look back at him, grey eyes fixed instead on Lily, watching her closely for a reaction. Unable to help himself, James follows his line of sight to find her blushing prettily, a reaction that well and truly baffles him.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," she laughs, some brightness returning to her eyes. "I've gotten quite used to the drama you two bring myself."

He can't help but be slightly miffed at her need to add you two in the sentence.

And he knows he's being glaringly obvious now, but suddenly, the thought of standing there and grinning until his face hurts when he's actually brooding something horrid feels unbearable. Without a second thought, James mumbles something about needing to "get the nightmare done with" and traverses deeper into the store, away from Lily.

"Um, is everything okay?" he hears her quiet voice ask Sirius behind him.

"Yeah, just a bit of… diarrhea."

"Mate, what in the bloody hell were you thinking, sulking off like that?" Sirius whispers furiously once he catches up to James several minutes later. "She had this really concerned look on her face that women sometimes get. Their eyes become all sad and this strange frown thing happens. It makes me uncomfortable."

"I figured that from your response about my bowel movements."

"You left me no choice."

"There were plenty other—never mind."

Sirius frowns, the defeated tone somehow bringing forth more seriousness in him than any words have been able to do so far. He drags him off to the trial rooms, bringing an abrupt halt to James's sad excuse for clothing-perusal. "Stop it," Sirius growls, looking annoyed.

"I'm literally not doing anything."

"Yeah?" he deadpans, "then why are you staring at the fucking wall like some traumatized soldier returned from the battles of yore?"

James tears his eyes away from said wall with a glare. "What's your problem?"

"Easy: you're fucking ruining this for me. Now, you go."

He groans. "Like you don't know."

"No, I don't, Prongs, because if you haven't noticed—" Sirius throws out an arm, flapping it wildly as he points outside the trial rooms, "Evans was blushing for you back there."

"And if you haven't noticed, she lied to us."

"So what? Are you her bloody mum? Or her boyfriend?"

"Well, why would she lie about meeting that bloke if she wasn't—I don't know, secretly dating him or something?"

"Maybe ask her that yourself instead of being a dramatic sod?"

"You're shite at this," James snaps, beyond annoyed at how easy Sirius was making it all sound. "Did you know that? Absolutely shite."

"At least I can snog the bird I want," Sirius shrugs, suddenly shoving a bundle of clothes into his arms. James hadn't even noticed him carrying them. Fuck, he must be really off. "Now go change into these so we can get out of here. I've already paid for them, so you'll need to buy lunch."

He looks up, blinking. "What?"

"You want to leave, don't you? I don't care one way or another, Prongs. I just don't want you to be miserable."

James hates how those words douse any remnants of irritation inside him entirely. Fucking bastard, always reminding him why he keeps him around at the most inopportune moments. James supposes his expression softens visibly from the sudden warmth in his chest because Sirius groans, trying to look disgusted.

"Okay, don't cry now."

"I'll do as I please, you tosser," he laughs, entering one of the stalls.

It truly says something about Sirius's sympathy—as half-hearted as it may be—for James's current state that he's picked the least abhorrent clothes the dare has witnessed so far in the week. The top is a full-sleeved green mesh t-shirt that he can't possibly be expected to wear by itself at this time of the year unless he wants to freeze his nipples off, so Sirius has thrown in a matching zipper jacket that is honestly too tame by his standards. And after the red leather pants from yesterday, when James pulls on the skin-tight ripped jeans, he feels—well, not hot, per se—but almost like himself.

So, kind of hot.

He grins at his reflection, an act he didn't think was possible in these particular cubicles.

When he eventually steps out, however, it quickly becomes evident that Sirius finds his own picks a tad too benevolent in retrospect. He steps forward and tugs down the zipper of the jacket almost to James's navel.

"There," he smirks.

"There?" James squawks. "What the bloody hell do you mean by 'there'? It's December! It's fucking snowing outside!"

"No!" he gasps, hand over chest, "is it really?"

"Sirius, mate, come on," James whines. "You honestly mean to drag me through the north pole in this fishnet?"

But despite such a logical argument, his words all but fall on deaf ears, in through one and out through the other. Instead, Sirius grins, a look so smug and horrifying that it leaves no doubt as to the fact that he's clearly done feeling sympathetic for the day. "I won't if you sort out this shit with Evans. Fair trade."

James narrows his eyes. "You can't do that."

"I just did. So, what do you say?"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "I say that you can bloody well shove your fair trade right up your stupid, smirking ar—"

"Erm, Potter?"

"—senal."

Some sort of a strangled noise erupts from Sirius. "Did you just say…Arsenal?"

James ignores him, face aflame as he turns around to face Lily. She peeks into the waiting area a little hesitantly, smiling nonetheless. Behind him, Sirius continues to hack up a lung, and he can't even be blamed. James doesn't understand the nuances of his brain misfiring himself.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" she raises her brows, "privately?"

Well, that sounds completely terrifying and makes him want to run a thousand miles in the opposite direction.

"Sure," he shrugs, walking out to join her.

"Arsenal!"

Lily throws him a sideways glance at Sirius's parting cry. "What's that about? Is there a match today?"

James doesn't know how to answer that, so he runs a hand through his hair. "I'll have to check."

She hums, gaze roving over him, pausing noticeably over his half-exposed chest. "You look decidedly normal today."

He, a mere mortal, doesn't stand a chance in the face of her teasing. He smiles. "Thank you, Evans. A compliment of the highest order, that is."

"Do try and stay on the ground, will you?"

"I'll do my best for you."

Lily stops him a second later, a hand on his arm, sending tingles shooting all the way up to his neck. Stupid body. He looks down at her, feels too much, looks instead at the stack of leggings beside her head. "Here," she says, opening his palm and dropping something onto it.

James peers down at the tiny green-white capsule in confusion. "Um. What?"

"It's medicine," she clarifies needlessly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Loperamide. For your stomach? Sirius told me you weren't feeling well."

Kill him.

Kill him now.

He wants to sob. He wants to drop to the floor and bawl his eyes out. Instead, he settles for an aghast expression, shaking his head. "Evans, I'm not—that is, I don't need—"

"Don't be ridiculous, James," she pushes back his extending wrist. "It's absolutely normal. We're humans. Our bodies fall sick sometimes."

Fucking hell.

"Yes, but I'm not—will you just—Evans!"

"What are you getting so embarrassed for?" she laughs, amusement shining in her eyes as she stares at his reddening ears. "It's just diarrhea, James."

"No, it's not!" he implores, "I mean, I don't have it."

She expels a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, now you're being really immature about this."

"Jesus Christ, Lily, I really don't have it. I'm absolutely fine! My digestive system is so perfect it could be placed in a museum. Truly."

She bites her lip around the grin that tries to spill out, and fails. "A museum?"

"Absolutely. I can devour two large pizzas by myself in one sitting without a single consequence, except for a bloated stomach and an angry mum."

"Sounds like you speak from experience."

He shrugs. "I was hungry."

"I'm not judging," Lily laughs, holding up her palms in front of her. She looks so damn beautiful that it almost makes him cry. "But then…Sirius told me that you had—"

"He lied," James says, temples aching.

Her brows knit together. "Why would he lie?"

"Because he's a sodding liar, that's why."

"James."

"Hm?"

"What's really bothering you?"

"What?" he grips his neck. "Nothing's bothering me. I'm fine."

"Want to try that again? This time without talking to the leggings?"

James closes his eyes, words climbing up his throat, gurgling out. "I can't look at you."

"Well, why the fuck not?" she sounds frustrated.

"You're too pretty."

A beat of silence passes, then another.

He can distinctly hear the blood pounding inside his head, and thinks he might just combust on the spot, leaving Lily to scrub off his splatters from the wall, when she speaks again. Her voice is quiet, meaningful. "James. Look at me."

"I just said—"

"Shut up and look at me." Obviously, he does as she says, face twisting painfully as his gaze travels back to her. Green eyes blink at him, bright. "Is it really that awful?"

"What?" he swallows, noticing that she's stepped closer.

"Fancying me."

James's stomach has traveled halfway to Asia. He thinks he might take that medicine, after all. It's not even possible for him to properly comprehend the fact that she knows, she knows, she fucking knows, because he feels rather sick. "Sometimes, yes."

Lily tilts her head, red hair spilling down one side of her neck. "Why's that?"

"Because I can't think straight. I can't—I can't figure you out."

"What do you mean?"

He draws in a deep breath and lets it rush out. "I know you lied, Evans. About yesterday."

The confusion on her face persists for more than a few seconds, before he watches her entire being tense, the little smile falling away from her lips completely. The softness that had lined her eyes disappears, and James notices the deep bags under them for the first time. "What?" she asks, voice as stiff as the rest of her.

It feels quite strongly as if he's dug his own grave, but there's no going back now, so he might as well lie in it. "I saw you yesterday. With that bloke in the café—"

"Were you following me?"

He reels back, alarmed at her instant accusation. "What? No! Of course, not. I was just waiting for Sirius to—why did you immediately think that?"

But relief flashes over her face, and James feels honestly put off that she'd thought him capable of stalking her. "Sorry, I'm just a bit on edge."

"Because of me?"

"No, not you, it's actually—" but she stops, narrows her eyes. "Hang on, let's circle back. You saw me with a bloke and—what? Got jealous?"

He looks to the floor, annoyed. "Well, you lied, didn't you? To Mary. To me. And I don't really know you, so I thought—"

"You thought what?" she snaps, and James looks up, surprised by the sudden anger in her voice. "That I'm the sort of woman who dates someone else while also throwing herself at you at the same time?"

His head is spinning.

She'd been throwing herself at him?

"No, I just—"

"Or did you think I just enjoyed leading you on?" Lily's eyes blaze, and he doesn't think he's ever been more terrified in his life. "Fucking hell, James. You could've just asked me, you know? Instead of thinking such awful things about me and then jumping to whatever conclusions you did."

She was tearing up now.

This was bad. This was really bad.

"I'm sorry," he blurts like a moron. "I honestly didn't know what to think. I saw you hug him from across the street and—"

"He's just a friend!" she flails her arms, face flushed. "Or was a friend, until yesterday, I don't know anymore, but, like—were you ever even going to talk to me about this? Or did you just plan on brooding your way through the dare and then never seeing me again?"

The grimace on his face says enough.

Lily scoffs, shaking her head.

"I don't believe this," she says, suddenly brushing past him. "Go to hell, Potter!"

"No, wait, Lily!" James calls after her, but feels his insides twist in on themselves when she doesn't even turn around.

Sirius leans against the wall a few feet away, making no attempt to hide the fact that he'd clearly been eavesdropping. Lily ignores him as well, storming past all the clothing racks and disappearing inside a storage room. The 'Authorized Personnel Only' sign on the door mocks James cruelly.

Sirius levels him with a flat stare and claps his hands. "Bravo. Encore."

A/N - No homicidal thoughts, please! Leave me some reviews xx