Fashion Disaster

Chapter 2

Day 2 AKA 'The Sweatshirt of Death'


"But of course, she looks forward to it, Prongs," Sirius tells him the next day as they make their way back to the store, "anybody with the tiniest sense of humor would bloody well look forward to it."

"What?" James asks, his brows pinched dubiously.

"Who wouldn't want to witness this whole thing play out? I, for one, would never miss out on the chance."

"You really think that's why she said it?" James asks, his heart sinking. Although Lily didn't seem like the sort to bask in the misery of others, James supposes that there's some humor to the whole situation, from an entirely third-person-looking-in sort of way.

"I don't know, mate, I don't know her," Sirius rolls his eyes, "Now stop it. We've been talking about this bird for too long and it's annoying me. I'm supposed to be having fun!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if this is difficult for you."

"As you should be," Sirius replies flippantly, "It's cruel of you to take away this one week of happiness from my otherwise terrible life."

"You don't have a terrible life," James frowns, "you derive constant satisfaction from humiliating me in front of women I like and stealing my parents' affections."

"That's true, they do love me more," Sirius tugs on his jacket self-importantly, "but as far as the humiliation goes, you do plenty of that on your own, mate."

"Oh, is that right? Remind me again who wanted me to wear that hideous outfit to the store this morning?"

"You lost the bet. Those were the terms, if you remember—"

"I wrote the terms."

"Strange brag for a loser, but you do you."

James ignores him. "And it says that I only need to wear it for sixteen hours."

"You can't blame me for trying to prolong my amusement," Sirius grins remorselessly.

"I absolutely can!" James counters, "As my best-mate, you should be trying to make me look good in front of Lily, not make her completely forget what I look like when I don't have a garbled assortment of clothes on."

"What are you saying, Prongs?" Sirius asks, blinking innocently, "This is me trying to make you look good."

"One of these days, Padfoot, someone is going to kill you, and I won't do a damn thing to stop them."

"No need," Sirius smirks, pushing open the doors to Take a Bow, "As long as I get to enjoy this week without any hiccups, I would've lived my life to the fullest."

"Ah, if it isn't my favorite pair of walking fashion disasters!"

James's eyes immediately snap away from glaring at Sirius at the familiar voice. And there stands Lily—her beauty just as blinding as yesterday after a miserable twenty-four hours spent frolicking around in his tiger print slacks.

Not that James ever frolicked. He was way too cool for such silly verbs. But it was a term his mother had unabashedly used to describe her own son last night when he'd excitedly told her about his encounter with Lily.

That was, of course, after he'd finished appropriately hemming and hawing about the unfairness of the whole situation.

"I beg your pardon?" James raises his eyebrows with a small smirk, "My fashion sense, I'll let you know, is anything but a disaster. I can't speak for the smarmy git here, but I have simply been coerced into a treacherous deal."

"A treacherous deal you drew up yourself?" Lily asks, her eyes leveling him with a flat look even as her lips twitch slightly.

"Don't redirect the conversation, Evans," James grins cheekily, "I know you're bursting with the need to compliment my black jumper and what it does for my already devilishly handsome looks."

"Now that's just silly," Lily says, scoffing, "If I was going to compliment you, I would obviously mention your hair first."

"Ah, the true markings of a superficial heart."

"I am what I am, and I don't pretend otherwise. Give me a good face with brilliant hair, and I'm sold."

They're properly grinning at each other now, feeling quite pleased.

James doesn't know about Lily, but there's a sudden restlessness in him like he's consumed three shots of espresso in a one-minute span. His stomach bubbles giddily and he feels like he could do a hundred push-ups (this is, undoubtedly, wishful thinking on his part because James can barely do twenty).

He's supremely glad that he'd given himself a pep talk in front of his mirror in the morning, much to Sirius's unending amusement. But James has learned not to pay attention to Sirius several years ago.

He feels much better equipped to hold a conversation with the woman of his dreams now, such is his confidence.

Alright, maybe it's more hope than confidence, but opening his mouth certainly no longer makes James want to shrivel up and die immediately after.

Improvement, if you ask him.

Sadly, the only thing Sirius asks is, "Are you going to start undressing right here? At least wait until you get to the trial room, mate."

Lily laughs, color blooming on her cheeks, and shakes her head. "Alright, let's get started then."


As Sirius gleefully peruses through clothes, James morosely walks around the store, deciding he'd rather not stand and observe the process when he'll eventually have to wear whatever the flavor of the day is.

So far, Sirius seems to be swaying between rubbish and garbage.

James notices that the store seems a little more crowded compared to yesterday; a little child dragging his feet behind his mother as she scans clothes, two schoolgirls giggling behind their phones, a merry brunette helping out a middle-aged woman who—even James can tell—seems like a difficult customer.

The woman sniffs her nose haughtily in the air and turns away from the saleswoman after saying something, going off on her own to the lingerie section.

The brunette rolls her eyes once the woman has disappeared, and she looks right at James when she catches him watching the exchange. She quirks a dark brow at him as if in challenge, and when James gives her a compassionate shrug, she raises two fingers to the side of her head and mimes shooting herself.

James chuckles, liking her immediately.

"I see you've met the female version of your friend," Lily's voice is a melody in his ear as she suddenly appears at his side. She's wearing dark blue skinny jeans and a black turtle-neck top today that seem to have been devised with the sole purpose of killing him in mind.

James blinks, his heart skipping a beat.

He takes a moment to understand what she's said, and inwardly berates himself for falling back to his moronic ways.

"Comparing anyone to Sirius is a difficult standard to live up to," James says finally, taking the chance to stare at Lily as she blows a kiss to Mary. Her green eyes stay diverted as she watches her friend—at least James assumes they're friends—catch it dramatically and clutch it to her chest. "You know, in terms of being an inappropriate arsehole."

An unexpected laugh bubbles out of her, and Lily turns her head to look at him again. That piercing stare makes James feel vulnerable, like Lily is entirely privy to all the ridiculous thoughts in his head. He tries to look away but finds that he can't.

"You're underestimating her."

"Maybe you're underestimating Sirius."

"From what I've gathered of Sirius thus far, he hates people, yet craves attention, finds no greater joy in life than annoying you, but would also do anything for you. Oh, and while he pretends not to care about anything, he cares entirely too much."

"That is…an alarmingly correct assessment."

"Of course, it is," Lily smirks at him, clearly proud of herself. "I'm quite a good judge of character."

"Is that right?" James grins, "Well, what do you have to say about me then?"

Her eyes seem to widen in pleasant surprise, full lips parting slightly to reveal an excited smile. She immediately schools her features into thoughtfulness, though, green eyes calculating as she hums contemplatively.

Meanwhile, James's stomach feels like it's decided to throw a raucous party, insides twisting and jumping around in strange ways that let him know that he's utterly and completely screwed.

"You're clearly ridiculous," Lily starts, ticking off on her fingers, "dramatic beyond measure, but you're going through with this fucking weird bet, which makes me believe that you really care about Sirius too, don't you?"

"I—"

"And you're kind, funny, you absolutely adore your mother," Lily goes on without waiting for him to answer, seemingly on a roll, "your abundance of money makes you uncomfortable, ergo you're down to earth. And you're hot obviously, very well aware of it too—"

James chokes audibly. He does know it, but hearing Lily Evans point it out to him like that is…

"Being hot's not a personality trait," He says like a dolt.

Lily smirks, looking glad to have made him uncomfortable, "Are you complaining?"

Is she…flirting with him?

"Oi, Prongs!" Sirius's irritated bark saves James from answering something—undoubtedly—stupid. "Would it kill you to not wander off like a headless chicken every two seconds?"

"Would it kill you to not embarrass me every two seconds?"

"Let's not risk it," Sirius says, flicking some hair out of his eyes. "Ah, Evans is here. That makes more sense."

"Sorry?"

"Found what you wanted then, have you?" James interrupts loudly when Sirius looks only too willing to clarify Lily's confusion.

"It'll do for now."

"Give it here, then. I'll go get it billed."

"What, you're not going to try it on?" Lily asks, looking aghast. "But what if—"

"I don't like it?" James asks, "I think that ship has sailed long ago, Lily."

"I was going to ask what if they don't fit?"

"Even better," He grins, stepping slightly closer to her to whisper conspiratorially, "I'll have an excuse not to wear them."

He enjoys the light spots that bloom onto her cheeks at the proximity, watching the way she opens and closes her mouth, no doubt unable to decide which of the many issues to point out regarding James's stupid answer. Truth is, he can't be the least bit arsed about whether the clothes fit him or not, seeing how he's bound to look like a complete clown anyway.

What he can do, instead, is deliberately find ways to spend more time in his normal clothes, hoping Lily can find it in herself to remember him like this if she ever decides to think about him during his absence.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Sirius grumbles, sidling up to him as they make their way towards the counter. He looks pissed in proper Sirius fashion. "And let me tell you now, Prongs; it's futile and pathetic."

"You're just bitter because the attention's not on you."

"That's precious. I can switch on my charm any second I want."

Not wanting to test out that claim—thanks to his complete awareness of the kind of effect Sirius seems to have on the female population (and sometimes the male too)—James decides to simply throw an ice-cold glare at his best-mate, letting the expression speak for itself.

"You look like you've been stunned," Sirius sniggers.

"Shut up," James smacks his upside the head, the scuffle causing enough noise to make Lily turn around and give them a questioningly amused look.


Sooner than he'd like, James finds himself secluded back inside the damning trial room. Not wanting to dwell too much on the ominous-looking clothes in his arms—he still dwells—he starts gloomily changing into them.

Once he's done, James just about manages to control the scream of horror that wants to slip out as he stares at his reflection.

It's not the yellow trousers with the polka dots that make him want to strangle Sirius—though they are abhorrent and the longer he stares, the worse they get—it's the revolting white sweatshirt with red vines (or is that blood?) crisscrossing all over it that really sets James off. Because the designer could've just stopped there—should've just stopped there.

But no.

There's a mouth.

There has to be a fucking mouth just splattered on his chest, with a long tongue lolling out from between huge red lips. There's even a small fang peeking out from the corner.

James can't decide whether to cry or die, so he instead shoves open the door to the trial room and walks outside, fuming.

"So, God help me, I'm going to kill you, Sirius—!"

But he doesn't get to kill him, doesn't even get to hold onto his anger for more than a second before it quickly morphs into shock, then confusion, finally settling on mild disgust as he takes in the scene before him.

Sirius is—quite unabashedly—sucking face with Lily's brunette friend.

James can barely do anything but stare at them like a startled deer, waiting for the pair of them to break apart—which they do, after a fashion, and much later than James would like. Sirius steps away from Mary—Mary Macdonald, her name tag reads—who'd been happily pinned against the wall, and turns to him with a smirk, cool as a cucumber.

"Wotcher, Prongs. If I may say, you look deadly."

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Mary laughs as soon as she catches sight of him. James notices that she has a bold tilt to her lips and confidence in her brown eyes that he's quite familiar with. "It's Christmas around the corner, sir, not Halloween."

"It's your damn store that had it!" James snaps, feeling frustrated at being unable to pummel Sirius like he wants to.

"Oh yeah, I think there may have been that one pile of Halloween's unsold stock that I'd stuffed somewhere at the very back. Why would you pick that up? It wasn't even on sale."

This is better than music to James's ears. "So, you mean we can't buy this?"

"Do I look insane to you? Of course, you can buy that atrocity. No one else will." Mary pinches her face in repulsion. "Are you sure this is your pick though?"

"Don't have much of a choice here, do I?" James grumbles bitterly. After a beat, he says, "Hang on, is it alright for you to just snog your customers?"

"Of course not," Mary scoffs, flipping her dark braid over her shoulder as she pushes off the wall, "But exceptions can be made when your best friend owns the store."

"Your best friend?"

"The very same redhead you've been drooling after."

James's eyes immediately flash to Sirius, his stare accusatory. Backstabber, he thinks.

"Oh, don't look at me," Sirius rolls his eyes, "I didn't say a word. Not that I need to, to be honest."

"He's right, you know," Mary laughs, now straightening her shirt as she makes to walk back outside, "I could sense the sexual tension in the air from miles away."

"There's no sexual tension."

"You're right, mate," Sirius claps a hand on James's shoulder, mock sympathy shining in his grey eyes, "There's only you and your desperation."

"Ha! If only," Mary scoffs.

James's heart gives a dangerously loud thump, as if unable to contain the hope that her four syllables spur on. He's just about to ask her what exactly she means by if only when she saunters back to work.

"What have you been up to?" He hears Lily's skeptical voice float to his ears as he follows Mary outside. "You've got that 'I'm-so-smooth' look on your face right now."

"That's my constant charm, darling. Don't worry your pretty head."

"Mary."

"Lily."

"Tell me."

"I may have snogged one of the customers."

"Mary!"

"What?" Mary cries, looking slightly chastised now but not nearly enough. "He's hot, and I was getting bored helping out sexually frustrated ladies."

"That's not—you can't—so inappropriate—" Lily struggles with her words. Her frown deepens, and then she sighs. "It was Sirius, wasn't it?"

"We didn't get around to exchanging names," Mary smirks.

"So glad to know you think I'm hot, Evans," Sirius interrupts, and Lily blinks, startled to find him there. "And here I was, thinking I wasn't your type."

"Don't flatter yourself," Mary grins, "Lily has a very specific type—"

"Mary, I swear—"

"Well, I guess I shouldn't dally. Lots of work to do," Mary spins on her heel, "See you tomorrow, boys."

James mumbles something in return but can't be sure what exactly. He finds himself rather preoccupied with staring at Lily—who seems completely speechless as she takes in his attire—and mulling over the various hints dropped by Mary.

Was she kidding? Was she only pulling her leg or had Lily actually mentioned him to her? If yes, was it out of pity? Amusement?

Or was it—as he could only hope in his wildest dreams—out of interest in him?

"I know this is terrible for business," Lily says at length, "but please don't waste your money on that hideous sweatshirt, James."

Okay, it was definitely pity.

"I've already paid for it," James says, nursing his bleeding heart.

"I'll accept the return."

"We're not returning it," Sirius smiles happily, "James loves it."

"Fuck off."

"I'd intended to burn the thing when the stock came in initially, but Mary kept it around for Halloween," Lily sighs, "Says a lot that no one bought it even for the scariest holiday of the year."

"I think we've established I look terrible in it, thanks," James frowns.

"Oh!" Lily's eyes widen, and she shakes her head rapidly, "No, no, that's not—James, come on, I wasn't implying anything about you."

"That's not what it sounds like. You seem quite insistent that I return it."

"Well, excuse me for wanting my customers to look good! Or not waste their money. How awful of me!" Lily scowls. After a beat, her expression softens a little. "If you're going to be a dolt about it, then I'll let you know that you pull this rubbish off better than anyone else could."

"Ah," James chokes, feeling the tips of his ears warm, "You—er—that is—"

"The words he's looking for are 'thank you'," Sirius rolls his eyes, elbowing James none too gently, "Even though we both know it's an absolute lie, Evans, and that I would look much better in it than old Prongs any day."

"Please do support that claim by trying it on. And don't be the least bit shy about keeping it on either."

"And deprive myself of all the joy in the world to prove something we know to be true already? Hardly!"

Sirius slings his arm around James's shoulder with his shit-eating grin, winking at Lily.

And despite the fact that he finds himself forced into clothes that he wouldn't have been able to dream of even in his worst nightmares, James—noticing Lily's carefree laughter join Sirius's amusement, albeit at his expense—can't help the small smile that slips onto his face.

Boy, what a mess.


A/N - I'm having such fun writing this, you guys! Do leave some reviews and come chat with me on Tumblr. Lots of love xx