peter pan and the amazing poptarts, or, bring out the buns and jam
Title: Peter Pan and the Amazing PopTarts; or, Bring out the Buns and Jam
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1326
Summary: Correspondence of the perverted variety.
Notes: Written for the miettes_desmots challenge.
Draco,
Well, I really am sorry I couldn’t come to see your play. I know you really wanted me to come-hell, I even wanted to go and you know where I stand on theatre-but they’ve got hold of a new suspect here, and everyone and everything’s buzzing like illegal Muggle drugs, and on top of that they’ve put me on the case committee so I’m not just here to ‘oversee’ anymore. You can punish-I mean, upbraid-me all you want when I go back, and I won’t mind because I deserve it. And I would really deserve it if you used the, you know…
…er, anyway. How was it? Did you throw your tea at anyone again? You know they said that if you did then you couldn’t attend the cast party. I know you love cast parties. Lots of free alcohol and people. And speaking of people-and I am not going to be jealous or anything as petty as that-be careful around those guys, okay? Because they scared the shit out of me when I met them. Who the hell carries around lighter fluid in a flask?
But then again, you are Draco Malfoy, and I suppose telling you to be careful is like telling…er…well, telling someone to do something impossible, that’s all I can say.
Anyway, I’m ranting. How was it?
- Harry
~
YOU GREAT BIG PRAT,
YOU DID NOT COME TO MY PLAY. I DO NOT WANT YOUR FUCKING EXCUSES, I WANT YOU TO COME HERE SO I CAN IGNORE ALL THE PRETTY MEN I WANT YOU HERE SO I CAN PUNISH YOU IN MY EXTREME DISTRESS.
I AM ANGRY. AT YOU. AND I WON’T BLOODY BE CAREFUL, I’M GONNA GO JOIN A MASS CHORUS ORGY THAT IS BEING HELD IN THE COATROOM.
AND I WILL NOT THINK OF YOU!
OR TELL YOU HOW IT WENT!
- DRACO
P.S. NO, I DID NOT THROW MY TEA AT ANYONE.
P.P.S. PRAT.
~
You jerk,
I know you missed me. And I said I was sorry! I really am! I really wanted to see you prance round the stage in tights, covered in silver makeup. Because that would really make my day. I mean, seeing you prance round a stage wearing tights-I mean, nix the tights-and definitely not the silver makeup. So just seeing you prance around, you nancy.
Also, what is this orgy!? You know multiple sex partners increases your risk of sexually transmitted diseases. I don’t want a broken pe-di-libi-sex dr-anything, so get the hell out of that coatroom. I don’t care if the chorus boys have better arses than I do. Which they don't, 'cos I’ve got the best buns in Europe!
- Harry
~
Dear ex-lover,
YOU ARE STILL A GREAT BIG PRAT. But since the cast party is over, and there is nothing to do anymore but sit around my hotel room, I suppose I could make do with writing you a letter, PRAT.
I did well. I mean, the critics were raving and ranting like mad, saying how absolutely fabulous I had been, and taking lots of stupid Muggle photos, and just being nosy indeed. And the worst part was they wouldn’t even let me wash off the paint! So I had to take photos for all of these prestigious newspapers with silver paint on my face! I was so disturbed but no one else seemed to notice. In fact, I was told numerous times that night how becoming I looked, tights and all.
I won’t send you a picture. You can just buy a newspaper. You could have seen me in person, but NO.
Hmph.
And relax, I didn’t do the orgy. I knew you’d probably pull out your medical text again and whine about STDs and so on and pull out your diagrams and plastic models and I don’t want that, that is horrible.
And the chorus boys don’t have shit on your arse. Hell, if you have the best buns in Europe, then I’ve got the best…jam.
- Draco
~
DRACO,
Jam?
What the fuck?!
- HARRY
~
You,
Yes, jam. I mean, the letters j, a, and m, when squished together in tight quarters, do form the word ‘jam’, don’t they?
- D.
~
Draco,
Er-what the fuck, is what I am still going on about. Why jam? Why not…butter or something? Tea, even. Buns and tea? Custard! You could have been custard. You are nearly the color of it anyway.
Plus I was meaning to ask, what exactly were you in the play? You never told me. Just tights and silver makeup, was all you mentioned.
- Harry
~
Potter,
I’ve got to make this quick, but why not jam? Jam is good. You know what jam’s good in? PopTarts. Mmm, PopTarts. Like the strawberry ones with the white icing and the colourful bits on top, or the blueberry ones.
Oh, in fact, speaking of the blueberry ones, the baritone has just got one out of the toaster for me. He’s quite nice, name of Erik.
- Draco
P.S. Ooh, whew. I ate so much.
P.P.S. I can’t sleep. Do you mind if I bombard you with P.S.s?
P.P.P.S. Wheee. Do you know, I tried a fudge one, and even though there wasn’t any jam in it it was still so delicious. Shall I go out and buy some?
P.P.P.P.S. Oh, my stomach.
P.P.P.P.P.S. Let’s never stay up with PopTarts and a toaster, okay?
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. …’m not sleepy. Really I’m not. In fact I…
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Oh, shit. I’ll have to clean that up.
~
Draco,
What are you doing with Erik? NO, WAIT. DON’T TELL ME. THE POPTARTS ARE JUST A METAPHOR. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, PUTTING POPTARTS IN TOASTERS AND LETTING HIM PULL THEM OUT…OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD.
- HARRY.
~
You complete and utter nutcase,
The PopTart reference was not a metaphor. And what happened to you not succumbing to ‘petty feelings’ like ‘jealousy’? We were actually eating them, and I mean real PopTarts-the bread with the crust and the jam in, and the icing and bits on top. Stop thinking about it the way I know you are you SICK BASTARD. You probably pulled out the medical texts and looked for what a PopTart could have represented, huh? I bet you the On-Return Punishment that you did. Which means if you did, I’m gonna make it worse than I’d originally planned.
Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
And I’m not telling you what I played. Now you wish you’d seen the play, eh?
- The Actual PopTart Eater
~
Draco,
I am not admitting that I got jealous. Or that I pulled out the medical texts.
…but, um, don’t make it hurt too much, okay?
Harsh. A hint?
- Harry
~
Harry,
Ha.
No.
Well, maybe one. I had wings. And a suit. It was green.
- Draco
~
Draco,
OH MY GOD.
DON’T TELL ME YOU WERE PETER FUCKING PAN.
- Harry
~
Prat, again,
How dare you!
What the hell is wrong with being Peter Pan? I’ll have you know the audience loved me. And I didn’t even have to use the ropes to fly. Well, I had to make it look like I was, but I really wasn’t, you know, just a kick off the old broom and a brush of invisibility and bazamm, flying kid!
And I adored that extremely large dog; it was so cuuute.
- Peter Pan
~
Draco,
This is too good. Make sure you bring those tights back. And the wings. And the suit. In fact, bring everything home.
I’ll have the toaster and the PopTart waiting.
- Harry
~
HARRY,
YOU ARE A SICK BASTARD! YOU DISGUSTING, FILTHY SCUMBAG! I CAN SEE THROUGH YOUR AWFUL SUBTEXT, YOU GROTESQUE MEDICAL MAN. DON’T THINK YOU CAN FOOL ME! THIS IS PRACTICALLY PORNOGRAPHY!
- DRACO
P.S. Also the buns. I will supply the jam.
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1326
Summary: Correspondence of the perverted variety.
Notes: Written for the miettes_desmots challenge.
Draco,
Well, I really am sorry I couldn’t come to see your play. I know you really wanted me to come-hell, I even wanted to go and you know where I stand on theatre-but they’ve got hold of a new suspect here, and everyone and everything’s buzzing like illegal Muggle drugs, and on top of that they’ve put me on the case committee so I’m not just here to ‘oversee’ anymore. You can punish-I mean, upbraid-me all you want when I go back, and I won’t mind because I deserve it. And I would really deserve it if you used the, you know…
…er, anyway. How was it? Did you throw your tea at anyone again? You know they said that if you did then you couldn’t attend the cast party. I know you love cast parties. Lots of free alcohol and people. And speaking of people-and I am not going to be jealous or anything as petty as that-be careful around those guys, okay? Because they scared the shit out of me when I met them. Who the hell carries around lighter fluid in a flask?
But then again, you are Draco Malfoy, and I suppose telling you to be careful is like telling…er…well, telling someone to do something impossible, that’s all I can say.
Anyway, I’m ranting. How was it?
- Harry
~
YOU GREAT BIG PRAT,
YOU DID NOT COME TO MY PLAY. I DO NOT WANT YOUR FUCKING EXCUSES, I WANT YOU TO COME HERE SO I CAN IGNORE ALL THE PRETTY MEN I WANT YOU HERE SO I CAN PUNISH YOU IN MY EXTREME DISTRESS.
I AM ANGRY. AT YOU. AND I WON’T BLOODY BE CAREFUL, I’M GONNA GO JOIN A MASS CHORUS ORGY THAT IS BEING HELD IN THE COATROOM.
AND I WILL NOT THINK OF YOU!
OR TELL YOU HOW IT WENT!
- DRACO
P.S. NO, I DID NOT THROW MY TEA AT ANYONE.
P.P.S. PRAT.
~
You jerk,
I know you missed me. And I said I was sorry! I really am! I really wanted to see you prance round the stage in tights, covered in silver makeup. Because that would really make my day. I mean, seeing you prance round a stage wearing tights-I mean, nix the tights-and definitely not the silver makeup. So just seeing you prance around, you nancy.
Also, what is this orgy!? You know multiple sex partners increases your risk of sexually transmitted diseases. I don’t want a broken pe-di-libi-sex dr-anything, so get the hell out of that coatroom. I don’t care if the chorus boys have better arses than I do. Which they don't, 'cos I’ve got the best buns in Europe!
- Harry
~
Dear ex-lover,
YOU ARE STILL A GREAT BIG PRAT. But since the cast party is over, and there is nothing to do anymore but sit around my hotel room, I suppose I could make do with writing you a letter, PRAT.
I did well. I mean, the critics were raving and ranting like mad, saying how absolutely fabulous I had been, and taking lots of stupid Muggle photos, and just being nosy indeed. And the worst part was they wouldn’t even let me wash off the paint! So I had to take photos for all of these prestigious newspapers with silver paint on my face! I was so disturbed but no one else seemed to notice. In fact, I was told numerous times that night how becoming I looked, tights and all.
I won’t send you a picture. You can just buy a newspaper. You could have seen me in person, but NO.
Hmph.
And relax, I didn’t do the orgy. I knew you’d probably pull out your medical text again and whine about STDs and so on and pull out your diagrams and plastic models and I don’t want that, that is horrible.
And the chorus boys don’t have shit on your arse. Hell, if you have the best buns in Europe, then I’ve got the best…jam.
- Draco
~
DRACO,
Jam?
What the fuck?!
- HARRY
~
You,
Yes, jam. I mean, the letters j, a, and m, when squished together in tight quarters, do form the word ‘jam’, don’t they?
- D.
~
Draco,
Er-what the fuck, is what I am still going on about. Why jam? Why not…butter or something? Tea, even. Buns and tea? Custard! You could have been custard. You are nearly the color of it anyway.
Plus I was meaning to ask, what exactly were you in the play? You never told me. Just tights and silver makeup, was all you mentioned.
- Harry
~
Potter,
I’ve got to make this quick, but why not jam? Jam is good. You know what jam’s good in? PopTarts. Mmm, PopTarts. Like the strawberry ones with the white icing and the colourful bits on top, or the blueberry ones.
Oh, in fact, speaking of the blueberry ones, the baritone has just got one out of the toaster for me. He’s quite nice, name of Erik.
- Draco
P.S. Ooh, whew. I ate so much.
P.P.S. I can’t sleep. Do you mind if I bombard you with P.S.s?
P.P.P.S. Wheee. Do you know, I tried a fudge one, and even though there wasn’t any jam in it it was still so delicious. Shall I go out and buy some?
P.P.P.P.S. Oh, my stomach.
P.P.P.P.P.S. Let’s never stay up with PopTarts and a toaster, okay?
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. …’m not sleepy. Really I’m not. In fact I…
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Oh, shit. I’ll have to clean that up.
~
Draco,
What are you doing with Erik? NO, WAIT. DON’T TELL ME. THE POPTARTS ARE JUST A METAPHOR. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, PUTTING POPTARTS IN TOASTERS AND LETTING HIM PULL THEM OUT…OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD.
- HARRY.
~
You complete and utter nutcase,
The PopTart reference was not a metaphor. And what happened to you not succumbing to ‘petty feelings’ like ‘jealousy’? We were actually eating them, and I mean real PopTarts-the bread with the crust and the jam in, and the icing and bits on top. Stop thinking about it the way I know you are you SICK BASTARD. You probably pulled out the medical texts and looked for what a PopTart could have represented, huh? I bet you the On-Return Punishment that you did. Which means if you did, I’m gonna make it worse than I’d originally planned.
Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
And I’m not telling you what I played. Now you wish you’d seen the play, eh?
- The Actual PopTart Eater
~
Draco,
I am not admitting that I got jealous. Or that I pulled out the medical texts.
…but, um, don’t make it hurt too much, okay?
Harsh. A hint?
- Harry
~
Harry,
Ha.
No.
Well, maybe one. I had wings. And a suit. It was green.
- Draco
~
Draco,
OH MY GOD.
DON’T TELL ME YOU WERE PETER FUCKING PAN.
- Harry
~
Prat, again,
How dare you!
What the hell is wrong with being Peter Pan? I’ll have you know the audience loved me. And I didn’t even have to use the ropes to fly. Well, I had to make it look like I was, but I really wasn’t, you know, just a kick off the old broom and a brush of invisibility and bazamm, flying kid!
And I adored that extremely large dog; it was so cuuute.
- Peter Pan
~
Draco,
This is too good. Make sure you bring those tights back. And the wings. And the suit. In fact, bring everything home.
I’ll have the toaster and the PopTart waiting.
- Harry
~
HARRY,
YOU ARE A SICK BASTARD! YOU DISGUSTING, FILTHY SCUMBAG! I CAN SEE THROUGH YOUR AWFUL SUBTEXT, YOU GROTESQUE MEDICAL MAN. DON’T THINK YOU CAN FOOL ME! THIS IS PRACTICALLY PORNOGRAPHY!
- DRACO
P.S. Also the buns. I will supply the jam.