Fic! More of it!
Title: Thwarted Frogs And Other Kitchen Implements
Rating: Eh. PG, tops.
Pairings/Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.
Warnings/Spoilers: The Marauders? Exist. Lily? Exists. Kitchens? Exist.
Summary: Lily considered the odds of getting a word in edgewise (at the very least 5:1, and getting worse every second). Lily and the Marauders make cookies.
Notes: I started writing this zillions of years ago, stumbled across it the other day, and decided it had to be polished and posted. I am so fond of Harry Potter, guys. I miss it. *sigh*
Disclaimer: Don't own them! I'm gnashing my teeth as I type.
"Oy, Lily."
Looking more than a little flustered the red-head turned from the fridge and found herself confronted by the sight of Sirius Black, one eyebrow raised, poking a toaster.
"Looks like some kind of thwarted frog or something."
"No it doesn't." Remus contributed from behind the paper. "It looks nothing like a frog."
"Yes it does," Sirius insisted, while Lily considered the odds of getting a word in edgewise (at the very least 5:1, and getting worse every second). "Look, there's it's eyes, right there!"
"Oh yeah, I can see it." Peter said excitedly, gesturing.
"No you can't Wormtail." James said, leaning over with his elbows on the counter. "Padfoot can't see it either. Because it's not there."
James examined it for a moment longer, then turned to his girlfriend of seven months. "So as we've eliminated frogs, what is it?"
"It's a toaster," Lily said impatiently, standing on tiptoe to search the cupboard shelves. And then, as a hasty afterthought, "Don't bring silverware anywhere near it."
"Or any metal for that matter." Remus commented, standing up from the kitchen chair and wandering over to where his friends stood. "In fact Sirius, why don't you just sit in that chair and not move for the next hour?"
“That,” Lily said, looking harried, “is the best idea anyone’s had all day. And do you know why that is, Sirius?”
“Why is that Lily?” Sirius asked obediently.
“Because last time you were in this kitchen-” Lily broke off to impatiently swat Peter’s hands away from an electrical outlet.
“Because the last time you were in this kitchen, Padfoot,” Remus said, “you caused a power outage which not only thoroughly baffled the neighborhood, but nearly caused at least six car accidents by last count. And frankly, the last count was done in the dark.”
"Luckily Moony," Sirius said lazily, now examining the microwave, "my dashing good looks cancel any damage I might do to the general population. And anyway that sixth wreck was because of that thing with the fire hydrant, not the power in-age or whatever you call it."
“That thing with the fire hydrant,” James said, sounding thoroughly disinterested (possibly because he was opening and closing the fridge with something bordering on fascination), “was really your fault too Sirius. Only it was because of the explosions, not the lights.”
“Explosions cause lights, sometimes,” Peter pointed out helpfully, his voice muffled. This was mainly because he had his head in the dishwasher.
Lily glanced skyward as though expecting to see an escape route beckoning from the ceiling. When nothing appeared she turned back to her search for vanilla.
"Merlin’s trousers Prongs, your girlfriend has a ray gun in her kitchen!" Sirius yelped grabbing the mixer and waving it through the air with an almost Shakespearean flourish. Peter was forced to duck in order to avoid a what he would later insist would have been a ‘really nasty power in-age in my brain Sirius.’
"It's a mixer." Remus said, with the air of one who is not only utterly unsympathetic toward the potentially concussed, but also amused and trying very hard not to show it.
"Ah-ha!" Lily's voice came muffled from within the cupboard. She emerged triumphantly clutching a small vial of vanilla.
"There!" She said and then took in the sight of Sirius, brandishing the mixer.
"Sirius what --?" After a split second’s pause she seemed to think better of that particular path of conversation and turned to James. "James, what --?"
"Padfoot put the ray gun down. Lily needs it for her cookies.”
“It,” Remus repeated, sounding remarkably unconcerned. “Is a mixer. Sirius, in a minute, when you try to shoot it at James, it’s only going to start spinning around and making a whirring noise. No, it will not lift off. No, you cannot pretend it is the thing they attached to your bloodied stump when your hand was blown off in a horrific ray gun accident. No, it is not for giving people “mixer burns.” It is for Lily’s cookies.”
There was a moment of silence in which Sirius achieved what might, in crueler company, have been called a pout, and Lily blinked four and a half times.
“You’ve gotten really excellent at that,” James said admiringly into the silence. “Really Moony you’re like some sort of- what are they called. Compooter. Something like that. Anyway the point is- and I think we’re all aware of this- you know things Moony. It’s getting almost frightening.”
Lily blinked three more times.
“Sirius,” she finally managed, “stop pouting.”
“Am not!” Sirius said immediately and extremely loudly, just on general principles.
“Are too,” Lily said absentmindedly, then, “Oh God. I’m assimilating.”
“Moony,” Sirius said, not even pausing to acknowledge the (rather impressive, Lily felt) use of the word assimilating, “you’ve spoilt all my fun. All of it. There is not a whit of fun left to be had. What fun there was can now be spoken of only in the past tense. This glorious ray gun, and-or flight device, and-or really excellent component of a Halloween costume has been reduced to a mere mixer thanks to you. You sir, have no sense of adventure.”
“When you say it in italics like that,” James said, now fascinated by the various dials on the stove, “it really sounds more lethal than exciting.”
“Lethal is exciting,” Sirius reminded him, rapping him on the head with the mixer. “You’re getting a demerit for that.”
“Oh Sirius,” Lily said, sighing. “Now we’ll have to wash the ray gun.”
Rating: Eh. PG, tops.
Pairings/Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.
Warnings/Spoilers: The Marauders? Exist. Lily? Exists. Kitchens? Exist.
Summary: Lily considered the odds of getting a word in edgewise (at the very least 5:1, and getting worse every second). Lily and the Marauders make cookies.
Notes: I started writing this zillions of years ago, stumbled across it the other day, and decided it had to be polished and posted. I am so fond of Harry Potter, guys. I miss it. *sigh*
Disclaimer: Don't own them! I'm gnashing my teeth as I type.
"Oy, Lily."
Looking more than a little flustered the red-head turned from the fridge and found herself confronted by the sight of Sirius Black, one eyebrow raised, poking a toaster.
"Looks like some kind of thwarted frog or something."
"No it doesn't." Remus contributed from behind the paper. "It looks nothing like a frog."
"Yes it does," Sirius insisted, while Lily considered the odds of getting a word in edgewise (at the very least 5:1, and getting worse every second). "Look, there's it's eyes, right there!"
"Oh yeah, I can see it." Peter said excitedly, gesturing.
"No you can't Wormtail." James said, leaning over with his elbows on the counter. "Padfoot can't see it either. Because it's not there."
James examined it for a moment longer, then turned to his girlfriend of seven months. "So as we've eliminated frogs, what is it?"
"It's a toaster," Lily said impatiently, standing on tiptoe to search the cupboard shelves. And then, as a hasty afterthought, "Don't bring silverware anywhere near it."
"Or any metal for that matter." Remus commented, standing up from the kitchen chair and wandering over to where his friends stood. "In fact Sirius, why don't you just sit in that chair and not move for the next hour?"
“That,” Lily said, looking harried, “is the best idea anyone’s had all day. And do you know why that is, Sirius?”
“Why is that Lily?” Sirius asked obediently.
“Because last time you were in this kitchen-” Lily broke off to impatiently swat Peter’s hands away from an electrical outlet.
“Because the last time you were in this kitchen, Padfoot,” Remus said, “you caused a power outage which not only thoroughly baffled the neighborhood, but nearly caused at least six car accidents by last count. And frankly, the last count was done in the dark.”
"Luckily Moony," Sirius said lazily, now examining the microwave, "my dashing good looks cancel any damage I might do to the general population. And anyway that sixth wreck was because of that thing with the fire hydrant, not the power in-age or whatever you call it."
“That thing with the fire hydrant,” James said, sounding thoroughly disinterested (possibly because he was opening and closing the fridge with something bordering on fascination), “was really your fault too Sirius. Only it was because of the explosions, not the lights.”
“Explosions cause lights, sometimes,” Peter pointed out helpfully, his voice muffled. This was mainly because he had his head in the dishwasher.
Lily glanced skyward as though expecting to see an escape route beckoning from the ceiling. When nothing appeared she turned back to her search for vanilla.
"Merlin’s trousers Prongs, your girlfriend has a ray gun in her kitchen!" Sirius yelped grabbing the mixer and waving it through the air with an almost Shakespearean flourish. Peter was forced to duck in order to avoid a what he would later insist would have been a ‘really nasty power in-age in my brain Sirius.’
"It's a mixer." Remus said, with the air of one who is not only utterly unsympathetic toward the potentially concussed, but also amused and trying very hard not to show it.
"Ah-ha!" Lily's voice came muffled from within the cupboard. She emerged triumphantly clutching a small vial of vanilla.
"There!" She said and then took in the sight of Sirius, brandishing the mixer.
"Sirius what --?" After a split second’s pause she seemed to think better of that particular path of conversation and turned to James. "James, what --?"
"Padfoot put the ray gun down. Lily needs it for her cookies.”
“It,” Remus repeated, sounding remarkably unconcerned. “Is a mixer. Sirius, in a minute, when you try to shoot it at James, it’s only going to start spinning around and making a whirring noise. No, it will not lift off. No, you cannot pretend it is the thing they attached to your bloodied stump when your hand was blown off in a horrific ray gun accident. No, it is not for giving people “mixer burns.” It is for Lily’s cookies.”
There was a moment of silence in which Sirius achieved what might, in crueler company, have been called a pout, and Lily blinked four and a half times.
“You’ve gotten really excellent at that,” James said admiringly into the silence. “Really Moony you’re like some sort of- what are they called. Compooter. Something like that. Anyway the point is- and I think we’re all aware of this- you know things Moony. It’s getting almost frightening.”
Lily blinked three more times.
“Sirius,” she finally managed, “stop pouting.”
“Am not!” Sirius said immediately and extremely loudly, just on general principles.
“Are too,” Lily said absentmindedly, then, “Oh God. I’m assimilating.”
“Moony,” Sirius said, not even pausing to acknowledge the (rather impressive, Lily felt) use of the word assimilating, “you’ve spoilt all my fun. All of it. There is not a whit of fun left to be had. What fun there was can now be spoken of only in the past tense. This glorious ray gun, and-or flight device, and-or really excellent component of a Halloween costume has been reduced to a mere mixer thanks to you. You sir, have no sense of adventure.”
“When you say it in italics like that,” James said, now fascinated by the various dials on the stove, “it really sounds more lethal than exciting.”
“Lethal is exciting,” Sirius reminded him, rapping him on the head with the mixer. “You’re getting a demerit for that.”
“Oh Sirius,” Lily said, sighing. “Now we’ll have to wash the ray gun.”