Boutasnug
Title: Boutasnug
Pairing: Sirius/Rosmerta for rarepair_shorts
Prompt: of the spectacular sort
Rating: PG
Word Count: 377
Summary: Sirius's bottom lip quivered. "Boutasnug?"
Author's Notes: Don't even ask. *facepalm*
Link to Prompt Table: Accio!
Sirius was amazingly, earth-shatteringly drunk, and had been as such nearly all night. In the course of three hours, he had managed to overturn fourteen chairs, two tables, and seven mugs containing various types of drink. He had also succeeded in driving away The Three Broomsticks’ usual patrons, all of whom had suddenly decided that a visit to Aberforth down the road was long overdue.
Now, without having to worry about stumbling into anyone, Sirius had begun to dance an Irish jig at the center of the pub, a bottle of Firewhiskey in hand. Occasionally, the liquid would spill out onto the floor, and Sirius would either splash or slip in it with his bare feet.
James, who was as far away from sobriety as Sirius, struck up a lively tune using mainly spoons and a saltshaker. Peter clapped, but not in time, and Remus was slumped over the nearest table, his forehead pressed against a stack of unopened books.
At length, Sirius suddenly left his post and staggered toward the bar, behind which stood Rosmerta, hands on her hips as usual.
“Givmasnug, Rosie?” Sirius called out to her, opening his arms widely. “Or… ‘bout ‘nother round?”
Rosmerta looked at him with amusement. “I suspect you’ve had enough to drink tonight, Black.”
Sirius’s bottom lip quivered. “Boutasnug, then?”
“What?”
Much to her disapproval, he hopped onto the counter with remarkable ease. “Boutasnug?”
Rosmerta frowned. “I don’t know what tripe you’re on about, but-”
“Bouta… givm…” He paused, and then beckoned to her with his finger.
Warily, Rosmerta leaned forward.
“Give… me…” he said slowly and loudly.
“Give you what?”
“A… a… ohshodit…”
Before she could stop him, he reached across the bar and pulled her closer with surprising gentleness. Then he kissed her sloppily yet passionately upon the lips.
“Mmph!” she cried, her cheeks growing red. She struggled to get away, and tried her best not to enjoy the feeling of his hands in her hair-but was failing at this miserably.
After less than a minute had passed, Sirius abruptly broke away and stared into her eyes, attempting to focus. “Rosie,” he said solemnly, “’wisha knew ‘owta quit yoou…”
And he promptly passed out, giving a tiny snore before he went falling to the ground.
Pairing: Sirius/Rosmerta for rarepair_shorts
Prompt: of the spectacular sort
Rating: PG
Word Count: 377
Summary: Sirius's bottom lip quivered. "Boutasnug?"
Author's Notes: Don't even ask. *facepalm*
Link to Prompt Table: Accio!
Sirius was amazingly, earth-shatteringly drunk, and had been as such nearly all night. In the course of three hours, he had managed to overturn fourteen chairs, two tables, and seven mugs containing various types of drink. He had also succeeded in driving away The Three Broomsticks’ usual patrons, all of whom had suddenly decided that a visit to Aberforth down the road was long overdue.
Now, without having to worry about stumbling into anyone, Sirius had begun to dance an Irish jig at the center of the pub, a bottle of Firewhiskey in hand. Occasionally, the liquid would spill out onto the floor, and Sirius would either splash or slip in it with his bare feet.
James, who was as far away from sobriety as Sirius, struck up a lively tune using mainly spoons and a saltshaker. Peter clapped, but not in time, and Remus was slumped over the nearest table, his forehead pressed against a stack of unopened books.
At length, Sirius suddenly left his post and staggered toward the bar, behind which stood Rosmerta, hands on her hips as usual.
“Givmasnug, Rosie?” Sirius called out to her, opening his arms widely. “Or… ‘bout ‘nother round?”
Rosmerta looked at him with amusement. “I suspect you’ve had enough to drink tonight, Black.”
Sirius’s bottom lip quivered. “Boutasnug, then?”
“What?”
Much to her disapproval, he hopped onto the counter with remarkable ease. “Boutasnug?”
Rosmerta frowned. “I don’t know what tripe you’re on about, but-”
“Bouta… givm…” He paused, and then beckoned to her with his finger.
Warily, Rosmerta leaned forward.
“Give… me…” he said slowly and loudly.
“Give you what?”
“A… a… ohshodit…”
Before she could stop him, he reached across the bar and pulled her closer with surprising gentleness. Then he kissed her sloppily yet passionately upon the lips.
“Mmph!” she cried, her cheeks growing red. She struggled to get away, and tried her best not to enjoy the feeling of his hands in her hair-but was failing at this miserably.
After less than a minute had passed, Sirius abruptly broke away and stared into her eyes, attempting to focus. “Rosie,” he said solemnly, “’wisha knew ‘owta quit yoou…”
And he promptly passed out, giving a tiny snore before he went falling to the ground.