Room Service

Chapter 16

Lily is already grinning when James and Sirius—his stomach perfectly recovered now—return from a party they'd been attending that evening. Even if it weren't for the text that had lit up on her phone screen several hours ago, she knows she would have noticed the happiness that glints openly in their eyes with ease, simply because of the way their presence seems to light up the entire lobby when they enter. Despite the relatively late hour, she doesn't try to temper her own jubilance as she rounds the counter and meets them halfway down the space with a large smile splitting her face.

"Congratulations on the promotion!" she cries.

Her arms lace around James's waist in a congratulatory hug, and she feels the warmth of his skin seep through another one of his gorgeous, simple t-shirts as the fabric presses against her cheek. It doesn't escape her notice that this is the first time she's allowed herself to touch him so freely; the first time she feels those marvellous forearms of his circle around her shoulders and pull her in tighter against him. The effect of it: fucking devastating. "I'm so happy for you!"

His voice sounds giddy over the crown of her head. "Thanks, Lily."

A pointed clearing of someone's throat, and she immediately pulls back with blushing cheeks, turning to Sirius—thankfully, without the lingering look that she's tempted to direct at James.

"You, too, of course! Congratulations, Sirius!" And though the quirk of his lips tells her that he's not fooled by that pathetic attempt at nonchalance at all, he doesn't protest when she slips her arms around him as well, smiling sheepishly. His returning embrace is surprisingly genuine and lovely.

"Thank you," says Sirius, pulling away with an affectionate ruffle of her hair; an action that might've felt condescending if it didn't immediately warm her heart. "It's always nice to become incrementally richer."

"And progressively dumber, in your case," James adds, grinning so lazily and enunciating the syllables in a way that she zeroes in on the glaze in his eyes. He catches her stare, winks slyly, and her blush glows stronger.

Oh, he's drunk drunk.

Sirius seems to know it, too, and perhaps he's even a little tipsy himself, because despite the ribbing directed at him, he simply rolls his eyes, smiling back stupidly. It's quite possibly the first time she's seen such easy adoration on his face. "Get fucked, Prongs." Then, after a beat: "Actually, no, do that tomorrow, or you might pass out mid-way."

"Shut up." James shoves him half-heartedly, eyes flicking to Lily momentarily in a way so obvious that she suspects he would have held back had he been any soberer. "Go on upstairs. We'll FaceTime Mum and Dad."

Sirius is already a few steps ahead when he realizes he's not being accompanied, and turns around to shoot a quizzical look at James. "Aren't you coming?"

"In a bit," waves James.

Lily watches as Sirius levels a flat stare at him, then looks to her with a meaningful arch of his brows, before turning back to James again. The whole of this non-verbal communication playing out on his features loudly shrieks, "I'm onto you, and I disapprove!" but with a healthy dose of exasperation laced in. Ultimately, he just gives a resigned shake of his head and walks towards the elevators.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!" he shouts in farewell.

Lily is eternally glad for the empty lobby.

Once Sirius is well out of earshot, James leans down and whispers the response to her. "That really doesn't leave much for me not to do."

She steadfastly ignores the flaming of her skin and makes a show of appraising him. The result: still fucking devastating. "You're really drunk, aren't you?"

"Not really," he scoffs. "A smidge less than that."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"I don't know…" and he moves even closer now, the scent of his aftershave and the hints of alcohol on his breath making her nonsensically woozy. "Should I be trying to reassure you?"

"Well," Lily starts, the words constricting in her mouth, "If you don't want to be tossed out of the hotel for drunken behaviour, then I believe you do, Potter."

"You know, for some reason, I don't think you'll do that, Evans." He hums, and something about that tilt of his lips there sends a swoop through her stomach, a tug through her chest. She feels her breath still entirely when his fingers reach out to brush down the end of her ponytail, slung over one shoulder. The expression on his face softens, throat bobs. "And you already know that I'd be willing to leave… if you asked."

Oh, boy.

This is too much.

This feels… too much.

Panic and emotion swirling messily inside, Lily takes a measured step back, hair slipping out of his palm, and casts her gaze around the lobby to make sure no one's paying them any attention. Thankfully, apart from just one guest strolling down the space, probably back to their room, the area remains largely safe from prying eyes. Still, the drumming inside her rib cage doesn't relent much.

"You should go sleep," she makes herself say, face warm, "It's getting late, and… you're saying things."

James looks at her ruefully. "I'm sorry."

"No, you—" her eyebrows stitch in the middle, the mismatched threads of guilt and fondness pulling them together. "Fuck, you don't need to apologize, James. I just think you need to sleep it off—"

"Have a drink with me."

"I—what?" Lily laughs, because what else can she do? "That is literally the opposite of what I'm asking you to do."

But he's grinning again, all straight perfect teeth and charming dimple, as if bolstered by the laughter she has spilled. "Come on, Evans! Just one shot. And then I'll be out of your hair, I promise."

"I really doubt that," she sighs. "And besides, I can't drink during work. No matter what you say, no one will serve me any alcohol at the bar, and I'll definitely get in trouble for even asking."

"Who said anything about drinking at the bar?" He cocks his head. "I have some upstairs."

Her heart takes this inopportune moment to slam against her chest.

"James—" she rubs her lips, exhales a heavy breath. "I… I can't. We decided I can't anymore, remember?"

"Please?" And now he's just trying to melt her, and she knows it. Unfortunately, possessing the knowledge doesn't make his tactics any less effective on her. "It's purely pla—platonic. A drink between mates. I did get promoted today, you know. I thought—I thought you'd want to celebrate with me."

Lily narrows her eyes. "Oh, you—you're such a jerk."

"Is that a yes, then?" He's already grinning, and she wants to smack him for that shameless display of arrogance, but… Jesus Christ, she also wants to snog him for it. What's wrong with her?!

"It's a fuck you," she lowers her voice, mercifully not mental enough to forget that she stands in the middle of the hotel lobby, and cursing out a guest isn't considered very good manners. When James continues to look at her expectantly, it jolts her to realize that he already knows she's not done with her response. "...but also a yes."

"Okay, but just one shot."

"Of course," he agrees, entirely good-humoured as his keycard slips and slides around the slot without avail. "That's what I said. Just one, and—ah, fuck, what's wrong with this..."

"For Christ's sake—here, give that to me!" Lily stalks forward with an amused smile on her lips, easily taking the key from him and unlocking the room. "There we go. Now, go on, hop to!"

"Sheesh, give a block some time to breathe, will you?"

"Can't. I've got to get back to work. You know that. I can't expect Amelia to cover for me for more than a few minutes; she'll have her own duties, too." Lily watches him move around the room as she speaks, taking off his shoes, ruffling his hair, collecting two shot glasses, bringing out the alcohol, and all the while, nodding his head with a dumb grin on his face. She's suddenly struck with how domestic this feels; her, standing in James's room, trying to act like she wants to leave when they both probably know that she really…

Doesn't.

"Yes, yes, alright," he's saying, pulling her out of her thoughts and putting an end to the way she'd started gaping at him with her lips slightly parted. With a rapid shake of her head, she moves closer as he pours out the drink and holds one glass out to her. "I'm a simple man, Evans. A few minutes of your friendly attention is all I need."

And then, before she has to formulate a response to that, James clinks his glass against hers with a smirk. "Bottoms up."

"Cheers."

Momentarily distracted by the sight of his strong neck and the way he throws back his head to down the alcohol, Lily hurries to toss her own drink back immediately, lest he realizes—and accurately, at that—that she's losing her mind and ogling him at every possible opportunity. The burn that coats the lining of her throat with the motion seems to jar some clarity back into her, and she places the empty glass down onto the table with a sharp exhale.

"Congrats again, James," she says brightly, offering him a genuine smile as she turns to look up at him. There's a strange expression on his face—hazel eyes thoughtful, tilt of mouth soft—that sends her stomach fluttering again. "I, um—I should go downstairs now. Goodnight."

But the intention to actually unstick her feet and move dies a quick death when he suddenly takes a step forward, right into her personal space, close enough that she finds herself shifting back, table digging into her arse as she grips onto the edge tightly. Funnily enough, all the moisture in her mouth has seemingly dried up. "James…"

The whispered warning in her tone doesn't even register on him, and she feels her heart trying to escape from her body when he reaches up a hand to lightly trace fingers down her jaw. "You…" he breathes, eyes following the path of his hand, watching the way she struggles to pull in air. Another step forward, and he's all but locked her into place, eyes darkened to a warm chocolate shade. She thinks her hand rises to push at his chest; instead, her grip curls around the front of his t-shirt traitorously. James swallows, and before she can prepare herself for it, his head lowers, mouth skimming gently over the flushed skin of her cheek in a slow, languid drag.

"Oh," Lily says, eyes falling shut.

It's ridiculous—downright insane—how she feels aroused by nothing but a drunk, paltry kiss on the cheek. Because the heat down below, it's arousal alright.

"Thanks for the company," he sighs, pulling back with an inscrutable light in his eyes. The space that yawns open between them finally gives her the permission to breathe again.

Feeling quite like she's downed ten, not one, shots of alcohol, Lily stumbles away unsteadily, no longer sandwiched between the table and that incredible-smelling body of his. "Go to sleep, James," she chokes out. "You're…"

"I know." He runs a hand through the back of his hair again, offering her a barely-contrite smile.

She pushes down the frustrated groan in her throat, huffs out an annoyed breath, and walks out of the room, cheek burning the entire time from the ghost of his lips on them.

A/N - Yes, this fic is just me trying to find all the ways I can create sexual tension inside a hotel, why do you ask?