Happy Holidays, BESAMISLABIOS!
Title: Hot Cocoa Confessions
Author: katmarajade
Written for: besamislabios
Pairing: James II/Scorpius
Rating: PG
Word Count: 820
Prompt: hot cocoa
Summary: While staying over at his best mate's house, Scorpius finds he can't sleep. Heading down to the kitchen for a warm drink he runs into the very last person he wants to see (who is also the person he wants most.)
Notes: I had a lot of fun trying out these two! I had never written either so thank you for giving me something new to try.
It's midnight and, though exhausted, Scorpius can't sleep. Unfortunately for his insomniac self, he's not at home; rather, he's staying at his best friend Al's place. Wanting something warm to drink or perhaps simply something to take his mind off of his total lack of sleepiness, he's slipped past Al's snoring form and snuck down to the kitchen. Once there, however, he realises he hasn't a clue where anything is. He sighs and snugs his dressing gown tighter against the late December draught that keeps old homes so darn chilly no matter how many charms or insulation updates people try.
His silent night is broken by a series of quiet footsteps. Looking up, Scorpius finds himself face to face with James, Al's older and much cuter older brother. James' face shutters instantly.
"Malfoy," he says tiredly.
Scorpius tries for his usual sneer, but he's so exhausted that it's a pretty pathetic attempt.
"What are you doing up?" James asks, eyeing Scorpius warily.
A hot feeling of guilt twists in Scorpius' gut along with the quieter flare of desire that always floods his body whenever tall, gorgeous, Quidditch-toned James steps into a room. He almost laughs at how insulted he feels, because really he's done this-acted like the biggest, haughtiest, most condescending prick on the planet whenever James was anywhere nearby. It's protection he rationalises, because if he weren't absolutely as snide and prattish as possible, he would be pathetically swooning and as transparently smitten as a boy could be. And that was what humiliation was made of. No, it was better to keep acting like a jerk, even if it meant that the bloke he fancied the pants off of thinks he is the worst sort. He has some pride, after all.
"Couldn't sleep," Scorpius says stiffly, too tired to put much energy into his words but trained not to let his guard down lest he start with the moony-eyed stares or aw, shucks, you're swell, sort of nonsense. He wouldn't put it past his tired, smitten brain at this point.
James pauses, as if unsure what to make of this non-confrontational, non-sneering version of Scorpius. Finally he offers, "I'm going to make some hot cocoa. Do you want some?"
Scorpius is nodding before his brain catches up with his body. He attempts a half-hearted scowl but it doesn't have quite the usual feeling behind it. James gives him a curious look and Scorpius panics internally, realising that too-smart-for-his-own-good-golden-boy Potter is seeing through his carefully constructed shell. Clenching his jaw together, Scorpius tries to shut up.
James wanders through the kitchen using his wand to heat the milk; he's freshly seventeen and getting to do magic outside of school is still novel. A few minutes later he plunks down a ceramic mug of steaming chocolate in front of Scorpius and sits down across the table.
"So, can I ask why you hate me so much, Malfoy? I get that our dads had a rocky history, but you clearly don't hold that against Al. What's the deal? I've never been anything but nice to you, well, more or less." James tilts his head, acknowledging all the good-natured teasing he'd bestowed on his little brother and his brother's best friend those first few years at Hogwarts.
Scorpius sips his cocoa and tries to focus on the sweetness of the chocolate rather than the enormously dangerous question he's just been asked.
"I don't hate you," he finally settles on.
James just raises an auburn eyebrow and stares him down with those treacle-coloured eyes that turn Scorpius' insides into pitiful mush. Finally, Scorpius, exhausted, frustrated at himself for his constant cowardice, and bewildered by the intensity, gentleness, and confusion in those perfect eyes, breaks.
"I don't hate you. I really, really don't hate you. It's just you're ... I don't like how I feel around you so I act even more like a prick. Thin line between love and hate or something like that." Scorpius stares resolutely at his half-empty mug, trying not to make eye contact after that pathetic confession but unable to stop himself from glancing up to see James' reaction.
"So you love me?" James asks, eyes huge and stunned, perhaps dismayed but not horrified.
"Merlin, no! No, I don't. I just … yeah, kind of, or not but something a lot like it maybe. Which is to say that I don't but …"
"Scorpius, shut up," James says firmly but his eyes are warm and contemplative.
They finish their drinks in silence, but James gives Scorpius a sweet, quirky half smile when he says good night. It might not be love, but it's definitely not hate. As Scorpius lies in bed a few minutes later, elusive sleep finally pulling at his eyelids, he can't help the glimmer of hope that plays in his belly. It might not be something, but it's not nothing either. He can live with that.
Author: katmarajade
Written for: besamislabios
Pairing: James II/Scorpius
Rating: PG
Word Count: 820
Prompt: hot cocoa
Summary: While staying over at his best mate's house, Scorpius finds he can't sleep. Heading down to the kitchen for a warm drink he runs into the very last person he wants to see (who is also the person he wants most.)
Notes: I had a lot of fun trying out these two! I had never written either so thank you for giving me something new to try.
It's midnight and, though exhausted, Scorpius can't sleep. Unfortunately for his insomniac self, he's not at home; rather, he's staying at his best friend Al's place. Wanting something warm to drink or perhaps simply something to take his mind off of his total lack of sleepiness, he's slipped past Al's snoring form and snuck down to the kitchen. Once there, however, he realises he hasn't a clue where anything is. He sighs and snugs his dressing gown tighter against the late December draught that keeps old homes so darn chilly no matter how many charms or insulation updates people try.
His silent night is broken by a series of quiet footsteps. Looking up, Scorpius finds himself face to face with James, Al's older and much cuter older brother. James' face shutters instantly.
"Malfoy," he says tiredly.
Scorpius tries for his usual sneer, but he's so exhausted that it's a pretty pathetic attempt.
"What are you doing up?" James asks, eyeing Scorpius warily.
A hot feeling of guilt twists in Scorpius' gut along with the quieter flare of desire that always floods his body whenever tall, gorgeous, Quidditch-toned James steps into a room. He almost laughs at how insulted he feels, because really he's done this-acted like the biggest, haughtiest, most condescending prick on the planet whenever James was anywhere nearby. It's protection he rationalises, because if he weren't absolutely as snide and prattish as possible, he would be pathetically swooning and as transparently smitten as a boy could be. And that was what humiliation was made of. No, it was better to keep acting like a jerk, even if it meant that the bloke he fancied the pants off of thinks he is the worst sort. He has some pride, after all.
"Couldn't sleep," Scorpius says stiffly, too tired to put much energy into his words but trained not to let his guard down lest he start with the moony-eyed stares or aw, shucks, you're swell, sort of nonsense. He wouldn't put it past his tired, smitten brain at this point.
James pauses, as if unsure what to make of this non-confrontational, non-sneering version of Scorpius. Finally he offers, "I'm going to make some hot cocoa. Do you want some?"
Scorpius is nodding before his brain catches up with his body. He attempts a half-hearted scowl but it doesn't have quite the usual feeling behind it. James gives him a curious look and Scorpius panics internally, realising that too-smart-for-his-own-good-golden-boy Potter is seeing through his carefully constructed shell. Clenching his jaw together, Scorpius tries to shut up.
James wanders through the kitchen using his wand to heat the milk; he's freshly seventeen and getting to do magic outside of school is still novel. A few minutes later he plunks down a ceramic mug of steaming chocolate in front of Scorpius and sits down across the table.
"So, can I ask why you hate me so much, Malfoy? I get that our dads had a rocky history, but you clearly don't hold that against Al. What's the deal? I've never been anything but nice to you, well, more or less." James tilts his head, acknowledging all the good-natured teasing he'd bestowed on his little brother and his brother's best friend those first few years at Hogwarts.
Scorpius sips his cocoa and tries to focus on the sweetness of the chocolate rather than the enormously dangerous question he's just been asked.
"I don't hate you," he finally settles on.
James just raises an auburn eyebrow and stares him down with those treacle-coloured eyes that turn Scorpius' insides into pitiful mush. Finally, Scorpius, exhausted, frustrated at himself for his constant cowardice, and bewildered by the intensity, gentleness, and confusion in those perfect eyes, breaks.
"I don't hate you. I really, really don't hate you. It's just you're ... I don't like how I feel around you so I act even more like a prick. Thin line between love and hate or something like that." Scorpius stares resolutely at his half-empty mug, trying not to make eye contact after that pathetic confession but unable to stop himself from glancing up to see James' reaction.
"So you love me?" James asks, eyes huge and stunned, perhaps dismayed but not horrified.
"Merlin, no! No, I don't. I just … yeah, kind of, or not but something a lot like it maybe. Which is to say that I don't but …"
"Scorpius, shut up," James says firmly but his eyes are warm and contemplative.
They finish their drinks in silence, but James gives Scorpius a sweet, quirky half smile when he says good night. It might not be love, but it's definitely not hate. As Scorpius lies in bed a few minutes later, elusive sleep finally pulling at his eyelids, he can't help the glimmer of hope that plays in his belly. It might not be something, but it's not nothing either. He can live with that.