Unwanted Service
Remus/Sirius
PG-13 at the outside
Words: 451
The word this week was 'competition'
It was official; Sirius Black hated the Three Broomsticks. He hated everything about it: the table cloths, the watered-down drinks, the over- priced food, the chairs, the obnoxious customers, everything. But more than the Three Broomsticks, he hated the waitress. Rosmerta was an ugly, desperate, middle aged hag, who could really forgo that frightening amount of make up she wore and just hang a sign around her neck that said 'To Let'. Rosmerta was the thing he hated most.
Walk over, put the drinks on the table, ask if the need anything more, walk away – that was her job. Standing there – giggling and flirting with Remus, leaning over to show him her sagging breasts, touching his shoulder –twice– was not.
Sirius tried to be nice. He tried to smile at her. He thanked her for the drinks, three times, hoping she would take the hint and leave. But no, she hardly even glanced at him. She just kept talking. No, not talking, flirting.
The only thing Sirius hated as much as Rosmerta was Remus Lupin. Smiling back at her, letting her paw him, acting like Sirius didn't exist, wasn't sitting next to him. Like Sirius didn't matter at all. Remus was worse than Rosmerta. Remus knew what he was doing.
Sirius realized there was one thing in the Three Broomsticks that he loved, as a table full of Hufflepuffs called the banshee away. He promised himself he would never pull another prank on that house.
"Are you alright, Sirius?" Remus had the nerve, the gall, to sound concerned, shocked even. Like he'd just remembered Sirius was there, just realized Sirius was fuming.
"Perfectly fine, why wouldn't I be? Don't you know that I love watching my boyfriend flirt with other people? It's one of my favorite hobbies, right up there with talking to my mother and blowing Severus." Sirius tried to keep his voice down. Unfortunately he failed at the last phrase.
Almost everyone in the hated pub was looking at him, and he hated them that much more, even the Hufflepuffs. "Can we just freaking go now?"
Under the table, Remus' hand settled on Sirius' leg, as though that was going to make everything better. "Calm down, Sirius. Let's just finish our drinks. Then we can go."
The hand moved up Sirius' leg a little, and Sirius had to admit, it did calm him a little. But only just a little. He swallowed his butterbeer in three great gulps and stood up expectantly.
Remus, with an irritating sigh, put down his half finished drink, stood up and started toward the door.
Before following, Sirius gave the pub one last disdainful leer and swiped the tip Remus had left off the table.
writing in 15 minutes is harder than you think. Trust me. You start off with the best of intentions, then you watch the clock, the whole time... you have this mental countdown going... 7 minutes... 4 minutes... 45 seconds... and then the damn buzzer goes off (yeah, I use my alarm) and you realize that the last half of it is SHIT. But it's too late to change anything (except spelling... there are typos and you don't go back and change them during your 15 minutes, that would be insane!)
So, I write these every week. I hate them every week. This one kind of amused me more than others, so I decided to finally post one.
Love and Dollars,
Jo
PG-13 at the outside
Words: 451
The word this week was 'competition'
It was official; Sirius Black hated the Three Broomsticks. He hated everything about it: the table cloths, the watered-down drinks, the over- priced food, the chairs, the obnoxious customers, everything. But more than the Three Broomsticks, he hated the waitress. Rosmerta was an ugly, desperate, middle aged hag, who could really forgo that frightening amount of make up she wore and just hang a sign around her neck that said 'To Let'. Rosmerta was the thing he hated most.
Walk over, put the drinks on the table, ask if the need anything more, walk away – that was her job. Standing there – giggling and flirting with Remus, leaning over to show him her sagging breasts, touching his shoulder –twice– was not.
Sirius tried to be nice. He tried to smile at her. He thanked her for the drinks, three times, hoping she would take the hint and leave. But no, she hardly even glanced at him. She just kept talking. No, not talking, flirting.
The only thing Sirius hated as much as Rosmerta was Remus Lupin. Smiling back at her, letting her paw him, acting like Sirius didn't exist, wasn't sitting next to him. Like Sirius didn't matter at all. Remus was worse than Rosmerta. Remus knew what he was doing.
Sirius realized there was one thing in the Three Broomsticks that he loved, as a table full of Hufflepuffs called the banshee away. He promised himself he would never pull another prank on that house.
"Are you alright, Sirius?" Remus had the nerve, the gall, to sound concerned, shocked even. Like he'd just remembered Sirius was there, just realized Sirius was fuming.
"Perfectly fine, why wouldn't I be? Don't you know that I love watching my boyfriend flirt with other people? It's one of my favorite hobbies, right up there with talking to my mother and blowing Severus." Sirius tried to keep his voice down. Unfortunately he failed at the last phrase.
Almost everyone in the hated pub was looking at him, and he hated them that much more, even the Hufflepuffs. "Can we just freaking go now?"
Under the table, Remus' hand settled on Sirius' leg, as though that was going to make everything better. "Calm down, Sirius. Let's just finish our drinks. Then we can go."
The hand moved up Sirius' leg a little, and Sirius had to admit, it did calm him a little. But only just a little. He swallowed his butterbeer in three great gulps and stood up expectantly.
Remus, with an irritating sigh, put down his half finished drink, stood up and started toward the door.
Before following, Sirius gave the pub one last disdainful leer and swiped the tip Remus had left off the table.
writing in 15 minutes is harder than you think. Trust me. You start off with the best of intentions, then you watch the clock, the whole time... you have this mental countdown going... 7 minutes... 4 minutes... 45 seconds... and then the damn buzzer goes off (yeah, I use my alarm) and you realize that the last half of it is SHIT. But it's too late to change anything (except spelling... there are typos and you don't go back and change them during your 15 minutes, that would be insane!)
So, I write these every week. I hate them every week. This one kind of amused me more than others, so I decided to finally post one.
Love and Dollars,
Jo