Leigh!fic- Kiss the Cook (1/1)- Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Title: Kiss the Cook (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: G
Word Count: 520
Summary: Ron tries to enlist the help of his girlfriend in the kitchen.
Author’s Notes: Written as part of my April Drabble Meme. persephone33 requested Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, using this recipe as the prompt. Carrie, my Pansy pales in comparison to yours, but I hope you enjoy this!
One finely manicured fingernail tapped on the marble counter as Pansy watched her ginger-haired boyfriend flit around the massive kitchen, pulling out baking supplies that she had no idea were even in the kitchen. Some warbled Christmas song was playing on the wireless, filling the room with its cheerful lyrics about peace on earth and goodwill to men.
Songs like that had decidedly not been played during the first seventeen years of Pansy’s life.
“Ronald,” she said, not for the first time, “you do realize we have an entire staff of house elves to do this for you, right?”
Her boyfriend’s head popped up from beneath the stovetop, a large ceramic mixing bowl in his hands. “Yeah, so?”
“So,” she drawled, “there’s no point in spending the hours these biscuits require when the elves can make them for us.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ron asked with that goofy Weasley grin of his as he set the bowl down next to the assembled ingredients.
Pansy had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as Ron pulled out an apron and tied it about his waist. “Kiss the cook?” she asked, quirking a brow at the words emblazoned across the navy apron. “Where on earth did you find that garish thing?”
Ron’s brow furrowed, and he glanced down at the apron in question. “Ginny bought it for me.”
Well, that certainly explained it. Ginevra was her complete opposite in terms of looks, mannerisms, and overall sensibilities. After all, the woman considered of the utmost importance because she could hold her own in a wrestling match. How Draco could put up with her, Pansy hadn’t a clue.
“Pans, stop it.”
“Stop what, darling?”
Ron snickered and turned to the large icebox. As he rummaged through it- for Merlin only knew what, half the contents of the kitchen were on the counters now- he said, “Stop thinking mean things about my sister.”
“What are you, a Legilimens?” Pansy muttered with a soft huff.
“No, but you get a little twitch to your lip whenever you hear her name. It’s like a little tic,” he replied as he shut the icebox door, a chilled bottle of wine in his hand. A wave of his wand had the cork popped and the wine poured, and Ron handed her a glass with a soft smile. “Mum always said cooking was better with wine.”
“Something your mother and I can finally agree on,” Pansy replied airily, her own lips twitching as she clinked the glass lightly against Ron’s. “Happy Christmas, darling.”
“Happy Christmas, Pansy,” he replied, taking a sip of the wine with her. Setting the glass own, his hands slid around her waist to pull her close.
“So,” he murmured, brushing his nose over hers, “what about a good luck kiss for the cook, eh?” His nose slid along her cheek until his lips were just in front of hers, and he whispered, “I’ve been told cooking is very sensual,” against her lips.
Her hands slid up to fist in his apron, and she murmured, “Is that so?” before drawing his lips down to hers.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: G
Word Count: 520
Summary: Ron tries to enlist the help of his girlfriend in the kitchen.
Author’s Notes: Written as part of my April Drabble Meme. persephone33 requested Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, using this recipe as the prompt. Carrie, my Pansy pales in comparison to yours, but I hope you enjoy this!
One finely manicured fingernail tapped on the marble counter as Pansy watched her ginger-haired boyfriend flit around the massive kitchen, pulling out baking supplies that she had no idea were even in the kitchen. Some warbled Christmas song was playing on the wireless, filling the room with its cheerful lyrics about peace on earth and goodwill to men.
Songs like that had decidedly not been played during the first seventeen years of Pansy’s life.
“Ronald,” she said, not for the first time, “you do realize we have an entire staff of house elves to do this for you, right?”
Her boyfriend’s head popped up from beneath the stovetop, a large ceramic mixing bowl in his hands. “Yeah, so?”
“So,” she drawled, “there’s no point in spending the hours these biscuits require when the elves can make them for us.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ron asked with that goofy Weasley grin of his as he set the bowl down next to the assembled ingredients.
Pansy had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as Ron pulled out an apron and tied it about his waist. “Kiss the cook?” she asked, quirking a brow at the words emblazoned across the navy apron. “Where on earth did you find that garish thing?”
Ron’s brow furrowed, and he glanced down at the apron in question. “Ginny bought it for me.”
Well, that certainly explained it. Ginevra was her complete opposite in terms of looks, mannerisms, and overall sensibilities. After all, the woman considered of the utmost importance because she could hold her own in a wrestling match. How Draco could put up with her, Pansy hadn’t a clue.
“Pans, stop it.”
“Stop what, darling?”
Ron snickered and turned to the large icebox. As he rummaged through it- for Merlin only knew what, half the contents of the kitchen were on the counters now- he said, “Stop thinking mean things about my sister.”
“What are you, a Legilimens?” Pansy muttered with a soft huff.
“No, but you get a little twitch to your lip whenever you hear her name. It’s like a little tic,” he replied as he shut the icebox door, a chilled bottle of wine in his hand. A wave of his wand had the cork popped and the wine poured, and Ron handed her a glass with a soft smile. “Mum always said cooking was better with wine.”
“Something your mother and I can finally agree on,” Pansy replied airily, her own lips twitching as she clinked the glass lightly against Ron’s. “Happy Christmas, darling.”
“Happy Christmas, Pansy,” he replied, taking a sip of the wine with her. Setting the glass own, his hands slid around her waist to pull her close.
“So,” he murmured, brushing his nose over hers, “what about a good luck kiss for the cook, eh?” His nose slid along her cheek until his lips were just in front of hers, and he whispered, “I’ve been told cooking is very sensual,” against her lips.
Her hands slid up to fist in his apron, and she murmured, “Is that so?” before drawing his lips down to hers.