Prompt 4
Title: A Tear for a Tear
Author:
devonwood
Format & Word Count: Ficlet; 475
Rating: PG/ K+
Prompt: Prompt 4 (tear)
Warning: None
Summary: “Sirius, you must be joking.”
Author's Note: This came about when I wasn’t sure whether to interpret the prompt as tear (rip) or as tear(drop). So, being my usual “witty” self, I decided to play off of that. And, I’m sticking by the fact that the serious/Sirius thing is still funny, no matter how many times it’s been used. ;)
“Sirius, you must be joking.”
“No, Moony, I’m quite serious.”
“Seriously?”
“Siriusly.”
Remus stared at the bed in front of him in what could only be described as sheer revulsion and horror. Sirius, on the other hand, had his dog-like brow knitted together in confusion.
“You can’t possibly have done this on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Moony. I followed your in-“
“Like Hell you followed my instructions!”
Sirius was clearly taken aback at his longtime friend’s sudden shift in mood. He licked his lips and swallowed carefully.
“I read and re-read your note at least five times, Moony. And I quote- ‘I have a date with Tonks tonight at a Muggle carnival. Make sure to find me a pair of jeans, and please put a giant tear on them.’ End quote.”
Remus stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head sadly, resting his forehead on the palm of his hand.
“Damn those pesky homonyms....Sirius, I wrote tear, not tear. I wanted you to do that old wizarding tradition- ‘If the relative of a courted woman cries onto the man’s clothing, the two will live in prosperity for eternity’.”
“Oh, you know that tradition’s bollocks. Really, crying? That’s not very manly.”
Remus sighed deeply. “I don’t care if it’s manly, it’s a tradition. And what am I going to do with a pair of jeans that are ruined!?”
“They’re not ruined, Moony. Just....worn. Worn is apparently in now.”
“I’m thirty-seven, Padfoot. I haven’t been ‘in’ for nearly twenty years.”
“Well, now’s a good time to get back in the swing of things!” Sirius quipped, yipping a laugh. Remus just stared at him with a morose expression. “Oh, honestly. I’m sure Tonks won’t mind an old fuddy-duddy like you trying to look ‘cool and hip’ like the kids.”
“But I wasn’t trying to look ‘cool and hip’! I was just trying to be Remus!”
Sirius frowned for a second, before walking around to the other side of the bed. “You’ll be fine. And if not, I’ll hex my cousin for being so tight-arsed about a man’s clothing.”
Remus smiled, albeit a weak one. “Thanks, Padfoot. You really know how to cheer a guy up, even if it was entirely your fault in the first place.”
-----------------------------------------------
“Killer jeans.” Remus heard a voice say from the stairway. He turned around to see Tonks heading down the stairs, bubblegum pink hair sprouting from her head, Weird Sisters t-shirt clinging to her curves, and (to his great relief) a pair of jeans with a giant hole over the knee that nearly qualified them as shorts.
And when she looped her arm through his as they headed out the door, gripping tighter to his elbow when she almost sprawled over the front step, he thought that maybe a tear was better than a tear after all.