Drabble: Proud
Sick of me yet? Totally all right if that's a yes. This one's already been added to Farrago. It was written for lilyjames_fest's second drabble round. Go take a gander at the prompt and write and/or lavish other writers with L/J goodness. =)
There is a possibility I could finish 24 over the next couple of days, but only because my schedule is erratic, which means there's equal chance for me to have plenty of free time as there is none at all. Today I have time. Tomorrow, we'll see. As always (or, er, lately), I'll keep you posted. No one grab the pitchforks if it isn't done yet, though, mmkay?
Title: Proud
Words: 500
Rating: PG-13, language.
Summary: An unfortunate wager finds James playing waiter at Puddifoot's.
Really, he should know better by now than to wager with Sirius.
"Welcome to Puddifoot's. What can I get you?"
Someone clears their throat. Up until now, James has maintained a strict policy of keeping his eyes trained on his notepad to avoid the humiliation of actual eye contact. But at this light hemming sound-this familiar, light hemming sound-his gaze darts up automatically. He very much regrets the impulse when he meets the amused emeralds staring back at him, and even more so when he sees the blighter seated across from her.
Lily's lips twitch tellingly. Her eyes rove him. "Nice apron," she says.
James glances down at the bright pink apron Puddifoot had thrust at him this morning. He refuses to flush. "Thanks. My colour, no?"
"Definitely. New job?"
"Lost bet. Sirius conned Puddifoot into taking me for the day."
"Haven't you learned not to wager with that cheat yet?"
"Apparently not."
Lily smiles. She's opening her mouth to say something more-
"What do you suggest?" Bertram Aubrey interrupts loudly, cutting Lily off and giving James a baleful stare. James sneers at him, wishing he could swipe the plastic menu from the tosser's fingers and slice him with it. But that won't win him points with anyone-Puddifoot or Lily-so he resists the urge.
"The flapjacks," James barks. "Tea's not rubbish, either."
"We'll have the Cauldron of Love Set," Aubrey declares-just to be contrary, undoubtedly. His spite is about to blow up in his face, though. James watches as Lily flinches, then scowls in annoyance. Besides the fact that she abhors coffee and prefers scones to treacle, only an ignorant twat would think Lily Evans would tolerate being ordered for.
James waits for her to snap, but Aubrey's already shooing him. "Run off, Potter."
"You-"
"Off."
It's a sound dismissal, and Lily silently stews instead of speaking up for either of them. James wishes he was surprised, but he knows Lily and her pride too well-too proud to defend James because of what it might mean (and it does mean something, despite what she insists), and certainly too proud to row with Aubrey while James is there. It's almost enough to grab the nearest boiling teapot and dump it over his own head.
Instead, he leaves, burning-by-teapot postponed.
Soon after, James sweeps back to the table with a True Love Cream Tea and a blistering temper. He places the kettle and the plate of scones in front of Lily. He can feel her eyes on him. Aubrey is frowning.
"This isn't what I ordered."
"No, it's what she ordered," James snaps, nodding at Lily. "Or what she would have done, had you bothered to ask."
"James," Lily says.
He doesn't even look at her. He storms off.
It's only a few minutes later, while he's crossly throwing together another tea service, that he feels the tap on his shoulder. Angrily, he whirls around.
Lily is nibbling her lip.
"Need any help?" she asks.