Room Service

Chapter 15

"Lily, will you please stop yawning? It looks extremely rude."

"Sorry," she whispers back to her sister, stifling yet another evidence of her exhaustion in time to prevent Petunia's vein from popping under stress. Eyes blinking rapidly to allay the burn festering in them from lack of sleep, Lily morosely sweeps her gaze around the table once more, plastering on a smile when her mum nods at her sympathetically from a few seats down. At Petunia's derisive sniff next to her, she leans to the side to speak to her again. "It's just that, I work on a night shift, Tuney, so I haven't gotten much sleep today."

The true travesty of the situation—before Petunia even opens her mouth to respond—is that none of this is news to her sister, and Lily should therefore not be required to pose this as an explanation at all. But she does, because her current state of sleep-deprivation matters less than not even a little bit to Petunia, who cares only about the fact that—

"It's my wedding, Lily!" she hisses menacingly, pale eyes narrowed into slits. "The least you could do is be awake for it."

It probably won't make her any less mad if Lily were to point out that it's simply a brunch today, not her actual wedding by any means. And so, she buries down the impulse and tries to look something in the vicinity of remorseful as she nods her head.

"You're right. I will hold back the yawns." She turns back to the food on her plate, taking a small bite as conversation continues loudly around the table between Vernon—the despicable groom—and Marjorie, or "Marge"—the even more despicable sister-in-law. A few words float over to Lily, and she positively grimaces at her fork upon realizing that they're discussing why alcohol can be good for dogs, which, as far Lily knows, it can't possibly.

"Oh, God," Petunia says from the corner of her mouth. "I cannot handle this topic. Please distract them."

She immediately perks up, excitement erupting inside her chest at the uncharacteristic request from her sister. Lily gently places her fork on the plate, slumps against the backrest of her chair, and slides down a little so that she looks casually draped on the furniture. A furtive glance around the room confirms that no one's paying her much attention, not when there's such scintillating conversation demanding focus.

Perfect.

She winks at Petunia, who's surreptitiously watching her with an apprehensive side-stare while also pretending to be thoroughly fascinated by whatever Marge says, and promptly shuts her eyes, head lolling against her shoulder.

"Lily! What are you—"

But she cuts off her sister's panicked whisper with the most obnoxious, exaggerated, and deafening snore that she can manage; a sound that bounces around the hall with such fervour that it swiftly puts a halt to every other conversation taking place in the room. In the silence that falls during the next two seconds, Lily can feel the heat of more than a dozen gazes locked onto her face, and it's a true testament to her self-control and acting skills that she manages to not so much as twitch under the pressure, let alone release the wave of laughter cresting in her throat. Thankfully, right before she loses the battle with her quivering lips, one of Petunia's bony fingers pokes her sharply near the ribs.

The pained gasp that flies out of her mouth doesn't need to be faked, though the bleary blinks and confused frown stitching over her brows do. "What—?"

"You fell asleep," Petunia seethes, cheeks pinking (whether in anger, embarrassment, or disbelief, it's hard to tell). She proceeds to smile apologetically at everyone seated around the table, most of whom—Lily's relieved to notice—seem to take great amusement from her little show. Her mum, especially, throws a knowing look in her direction that almost shatters the barrier she's steadied between her expression and the hilarity that bubbles inside. "I'm so terribly sorry. Lily works on a night shift, and she's not gotten enough sleep today."

"It's rather unseemly for women your age to be working such hours, in my opinion," Marge grunts through her moustache, face already ruddy from all the wine she's consumed.

Lily gives her sickly sweet smile. "I will strive to do better for you."

The sarcasm flies straight over Marge's head, like Lily knew it would, and she returns her attention to Vernon, their topic of conversation now incidentally shifting to some delinquent cousin of theirs who used to work abysmal hours and was practically a heathen because of it. Feeling quite pleased with herself, Lily tucks back into her meal, tries not to look up out of fear of letting all her tightly held laughter spill out.

"You're so weird," Petunia whispers suddenly, and when she turns to look at her sister, it's to find that a small smile rests on the corner of her thin lips. "But thanks."

"Anytime, Tuney."

"Evans."

She hums softly, bones heavy and liquid, the familiar voice barely penetrating the thick sheet of sleep slung over the back of her eyelids.

"Lily…" Her name, breathed so quietly, has travelled closer to her ears now. A tickle of fingertips brushes over her shoulder, against the bare skin of her neck, pushing back strands of hair that have tumbled out of her ponytail, loose. The warmth of this touch is strangely comforting, and she tilts her head to welcome more of it, a content noise sliding up her throat. "Lily, wake up. It's, um—I'm not sure you should be sleeping."

More than the actual words spoken, the audible tightening of the voice uttering them is what finally stirs her from slumber. Lily blinks her eyes open, head a little woozy when bright lights and sleek counters greet her sight. Air burns on its way down her throat, and she thinks she might've been sleeping with her mouth open for a while. And this—this knowledge, for some inexplicable reason, makes her shift her gaze, higher and higher, until she's looking into the quietly amused face of James Potter as he stands right next to her head in a sinfully gorgeous black button-down shirt.

"Good morning."

Oh, holy hell.

A gasp, and then she's practically upending the chair underneath in her haste to jump up, eyes frantic and disoriented as she realizes exactly where she is, what she was doing, and who has caught her in the act. Heart thundering, she twists on her feet to see that the lobby looks otherwise empty, and a quick drag of the computer mouse lights up the screen, shows her the time.

1:04 a.m.

"Oh, thank God," Lily huffs, gulping down some more air, letting the rate of her pulse slow as she leans back against the counter. Her eyes travel to James, who still watches her with a small smirk on his lips. "I must've fallen asleep. Couldn't have been more than ten minutes though."

"I won't tell if you don't." He shrugs, and it's only then that she notices the slight tinge of pink to his cheeks. There's something strange about the way he glances over her face, around it, almost as if avoiding truly looking at her.

"Thanks," Lily murmurs, reaching up a thumb to covertly wipe at her mouth, just in case there's drool there, putting him off. But the pad skims over clean, smooth skin, and she drops her hand back to her side, purses her lips in confusion. "What's the matter?"

He runs fingers through his hair, a sign that she's come to observe betrays his anxiousness. "Erm. What?"

"You're not looking at me."

"What? I am."

She cocks a brow, takes two steps forward, wanting to chuckle at the discomfort that seems to flash over his expression. "You're looking at my ear, James."

"I'm—" And here, he forces himself to shift his eyes, to let them land on her, finally, fully. Lily watches as the hazels settle on her face for a beat, before he bites his lip, looking pained. His throat moves, as if constricted. "Your button's come loose."

"Wha—"

He's right.

Gaze dropped to her chest, she notices that the second button of her white blouse has popped out of its frayed hole, probably when she'd fallen asleep on the chair, because as far as Lily remembers, she had not been flashing her nude coloured bra to the world the last time she'd checked—which, incidentally, had been right after she'd sat down. As the fierce flush of embarrassment makes its way up her neck and face, Lily rushes to fix her top, barely managing the task thanks to how her fingers scramble in their haste. Dear God. If only she'd worn something else to work.

The blouse is to be burned just as soon as she returns home.

"I, um—" she stutters through the roar in her ears. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, you don't—" James's voice sounds hoarse, and he takes a second to clear it. "It's alright. You look tired. Everything okay?"

The relief that flows through her limbs at the change of topic draws her eyes back to him, and Lily can't help the small smile that slips over her mouth when she notices how he's given her the privacy by tilting away slightly, the colour on his cheeks a little darker now.

Fuck her, he's—

He's inconveniently cute.

"Yeah, everything's good. My sister's getting married, and there was a brunch I had to attend today morning. So, you can imagine how much sleep I got." When he nods, still turned away, she stretches her right foot to playfully tap her shoe against his shin. James blinks in surprise, looks back at her with his lips parted. She holds his stare, and feels something flutter in her stomach when he smirks softly, slowly, upon seeing her smile. "Where were you? It's pretty late."

"Just work," he says, and it's like the reply reminds him of his exhaustion, sends him rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension knotted in them. At the crick that sounds from the stiffness of his neck, Lily feels her fingers twitch, almost as if tempted to reach out and comfort him. "Congratulations to your sister, by the way."

"Yeah, um—yeah, thanks." She blinks distractedly, surprised by her own impulse. Then, to push past the awkwardness that he's no doubt spied in her tone: "Where's Sirius?"

James lets out a huff of exasperated laughter. "Still unwell from all the pizzas he's eaten. And honestly? Serves him right, the bloody git. I've told him a million times to order in something else."

"Oh." She frowns, runs her tongue over the back of her teeth contemplatively. "I can get some medicines sent up to him if—"

"Nah, don't bother yourself." He waves it off. "He's already taken some, and I'm almost a hundred per cent certain that he's actually perfectly fine now, but just doesn't want to work. Like I said: bloody git."

"Ah." Amusement sparks through her chest; lifts up the corners of her mouth again. "I suppose that does—um, one second—"

The incessant vibration within her pocket forces Lily to halt the conversation, and she pulls out her mobile from her trousers with a fleeting glance at James, who watches on patiently, looking entirely at ease and way too delectable in his work clothes for one in the morning. With a quick, inward beratement for letting her thoughts wander there again, she unlocks her phone screen, lets her eyes scan over the barrage of messages from Petunia, and groans out loud by the time she reaches the end.

"Um… alright, Evans?" James asks, sounding concerned despite the smile that lingers on his face.

"Ugh. Yeah, sorry. It's just—" A sigh. She returns the phone back inside without replying to the messages. "Petunia—that's my sister—she just told me that I need to make nice with one of the groomsmen for the wedding. And I'm, well, rather opposed to the idea, because he's already asked me out twice, and been completely disrespectful of anything I've had to say in return, and just seems to think I'm playing hard to get. So, naturally, I've been a little less than warm towards the pig."

"Wow." He blinks, eyebrows arched high. "And your sister still wants you to be nice to this bloke?"

"Actually, she wants me to apologize," Lily confesses, attempting to rub away the pounding in her temples with her fingertips. "Petunia is… complicated."

"Sorry you have to deal with that." He takes a step forward, and suddenly, the air around her feels completely inadequate, breath catching in her lungs. For a second, she thinks he's about to hug her, but then his fingers reach out, skim over her knuckles, settle over her hand to squeeze gently when she doesn't pull back or resist. "If it counts, I think you should knee his groin the next time you meet. Keep things interesting."

Lily laughs, something soft, properly distracted by his hand on hers. Sirius's words from yesterday swirl in her mind still, inducing a strong bout of guilt as James's thumb rubs circles over her skin. Unfortunately, the guilt just isn't strong enough to make her put a stop to this.

"Thanks," she sighs eventually. "Some blokes just can't take a hint."

His reaction precedes her understanding.

In all of a second, his hand drags away from her own, and she looks up to find that there's a bit of a crease between his brows now. Before the question and confusion can materialize on her tongue, James turns away, easily slipping around the counter so that he's on the other side again. His absence seems to abruptly expand the space around her, and not in a comforting manner.

"Right," he says, and Lily twists on her feet to find a tight smile on his face. "I'll—uh—let you rest, Evans. Pretty tired, myself. See you later?"

But he's walking past without even waiting for her reply, and it takes another half a second for her to realize where it went wrong. A soft curse filters out of her, and then she's rounding the desk too, desperate in a way she hasn't been in the longest time.

"James, wait!" She winces when her voice echoes around the silent lobby, despite the normal volume she'd spoken at. Thankfully, his feet halt at the call, and he half-turns to look at her, expression clearly probing. Lily feels her pulse thunder away in her neck, but licks her lips and gives him the truth. "I wasn't—I wasn't talking about you. If that's what you thought. When I said that about blokes not being able to take hints, I mean."

For some reason, it surprises her when he doesn't automatically pretend like she's got it wrong. Instead, some long-held breath seems to escape his lungs. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, and—" she probably shouldn't add this. No, she definitely shouldn't add this: "If things weren't how they are, right now, and if we weren't…. then I—well, then I wouldn't, you know, knee you in the groin. If you know what I mean."

He doesn't say anything for a while, and if not for the way his gaze practically blazes her to the spot, Lily would want to run screaming after what she's gone and spouted in front of him. However, after what feels like an eternity, James smirks, and despite the feet of distance spread out between them, a stupid tingle runs up her spine at the sight.

"That was a bloody terrible analogy, Evans." His eyes gleam. "But good. I'm—really fucking glad."

And then he leaves.

The tingles don't.

A/N - Thank you for leaving reviews! They always make me smile :')