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makeste · 6 years ago

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KHR 061: Feelings All Up in My Daily Life Arc

If for some reason you ever ask me what my favorite Daily Life chapter is, and I tell you I don’t have one, you should know that I am straight up lying, because I do and it’s this:

This was requested by @gokudirt! This is also the last of the chapter requests, but seeing as it takes place right before the start of the Kokuyou arc, I’m thinking I might just continue the reviews chronologically from here. At least until I finally tire of doing this (which could be a good long while from now).

Anyway, let’s discuss Target 61, which started me on a path of being obsessed with Gokudera Hayato for the rest of my life.

Before we get to the actual chapter, I want to take a moment to appreciate that title page up there, because I think it’s the first time Amano successfully achieved what she was so obviously trying to do from the very start, which is to make Gokudera’s hair sexy. It’s not at peak sexiness yet, but it’s come so, so far from his intro nearly 60 chapters ago. I attribute this to him finally turning fourteen. We all know thirteen is a very awkward age.

Unfortunately the change is not quiiite permanent just yet, as we can observe on the very next page.

The thing is, I feel like she’s getting better at drawing him from side angles, but from directly front-on it’s a whole different story. His hair is still doing the thing where the back parts stick out awkwardly at extreme pointy angles, and also his bangs hang down way too straight and rigidly, like they’re one big sticking-together blob, instead of being all soft and ~wispy-looking~ the way they get to be later on.

I, a fully grown adult woman who apparently has nothing better to do than to analyze Gokudera’s hair and rant about it for multiple paragraphs, can actually tell you the exact moment when that transformation finally becomes permanent and perfect, and it’s right at the very start of the Future arc, immediately after TYL!Gokudera poofs back into normal Gokudera. It’s like Amano drew TYL!Gokudera’s hairstyle, and then suddenly everything just clicked about what the teenage version’s hair was always meant to be. It’s a beautiful thing. Haha, this chapter recap is going to be waaaay too long and very singularly focused, isn’t it.

Suddenly some thugs appear, because I guess they just wanted to get their asses kicked by the future Vongola Tenth’s right hand man!

Firstly, “as if there weren’t already this heat” is SUCH a July 2018 mood, so thank you, Gokudera.

Second, he’s really fucking violent here and I kind of adore it. He’s so often a glutton for punishment that it’s sort of nice on those rare occasions where he gets to kick ass himself. Especially here where it gets really physical with elbows and knees and the whole business! Usually this kind of brutality is Hibari’s domain.

Anyway, it turns out they were sent by Dino!

STILL SO HANDSOME. How come there were never any problems with his hair??

At any rate, Dino has some “good news” for Gokudera. (FYI those aren’t just any quotation marks--those are full blown sarcastic air quotes.) Now that he’s fourteen (ALL GROWN UP), the Ninth has apparently decided to promote him and put him in charge of a bunch of casinos. That makes so much sense! And he asked Dino to tell Gokudera because Dino is basically an honorary Vongola. That part actually does make sense. Does anyone really think of the Cavallone as a separate family? Pretty sure no one is raising their hand.

What great news! Oh but there’s just one small thing; the job is in Italy! Which, aside from probably not being Gokudera’s favorite place in the world for a multitude of other reasons, is also notably NOT where Tsuna is.

This is followed by one of my favorite Gokudera moments in the entire series.

Okay let’s press pause and engage rant mode.

So as we all know (I assume? Unless you’ve never actually read this chapter, in which case go do it! because it’s great and I love it!!), this whole thing is actually some kind of fucked-up loyalty test that the Ninth came up with, because for some reason he was suspicious of Gokudera and whether or not he’d actually stay devoted to Tsuna. So they figured they’d offer him a token power position, and see if he’d take them up on it, even if it meant abandoning his boss!

Here’s why that’s the most ludicrous fucking thing anyone has ever tried to do in this entire series.

SERIOUSLY? YOU NEEDED TO TEST GOKUDERA GODDAMN HAYATO’S GODDAMN LOYALTY TO THE GODDAMN TENTH? HAVE YOU EVER MET GOKUDERA?? PLEASE SPEND TWO FUCKING MINUTES WITH HIM AND THEN COME BACK AND APOLOGIZE TO ME ON YOUR KNEES FOR WASTING ALL OUR FUCKING TIME.

But okay, for some reason the Ninth has inexplicably become an outrageously bad judge of character. So fine, let’s test Gokudera’s loyalty. Except that

HE PASSES THE TEST ALMOST BEFORE THEY CAN EVEN GIVE HIM THE TEST TO BEGIN WITH.

Seriously. “Gokudera here’s a promotion for you but you’ll have to leave Tsuna and go to Ital—” “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS THE ONE I FOLLOW IS THE TENTH NOT THE NINTH, IF IT’S GOING TO BE LIKE THIS THEN I’M NOT GONNA DO IT.” Dino, your response should be, “Well, shit, okay then,” and then you walk off and tell the Ninth what an asshole he was to even fucking try this.

But instead!!!

So Gokudera already passed the test, which is all about being loyal to Tsuna, but Dino tries to guilt him by insisting that staying is selfish, and leaving is actually the best way to serve Tsuna? What kind of damned-if-you-do bullshit is this? We’re trying to see how loyal you are, so we’ll tell you how to be loyal, but if you listen to us you will actually fail the test. What the fuck kind of fucking logic…

Anyway, lacking any other type of mentor figure (because Shamal is a fucking deadbeat), Gokudera goes to talk to Reborn about it.

WTF WHO’S THIS RANDO—

REBORN-SAN YOU APPEARED OUT OF NOWHERE

Things I will never get tired of: this fucking gag.

So Gokudera explains his problems, but he frames them in such a way so as to make it seem like he’s worried that Tsuna won’t be able to get along without him, when of course it’s really the exact fucking opposite. Reborn is exactly as helpful as you would expect Reborn to be.

Having just savagely murdering Gokudera’s hopes and dreams, Reborn proceeds to set a challenge for him.

Hahaha. Okay, so. On the surface, this seems really fucking harsh, and kind of like Reborn is trolling the ever-loving shit out of Gokudera in this chapter just for giggles. However, I don’t think that’s what’s actually going on. But I’ll get to that in a bit.

So Gokudera accepts this challenge like the sweet delusional child he is, and goes to visit Tsuna.

Tsuna’s just so fucking thrilled to see him.

Gokudera’s wavelength: ~~~~~~

Tsuna’s wavelength:

~~~~~~

DO YOU GET IT THE WAVELENGTHS ARE DIFFERENT Critical lack of communication and understanding between these two kids who are trying to be best friends but neither of them has the slightest fucking clue how to do it. That’s all I’m saying.

This is something that’s better suited for an essay, so I’ll leave it alone for now, but it’s just interesting to note the contrasts in how they think of each other at this stage in their friendship.

They sit in Tsuna’s room and Tsuna drops moods for all to enjoy.

Pictured above: every thirteen-year-old since the beginning of time.

Gokudera has a stars-in-eyes moment of thinking Tsuna is about to ask him for help, buuuut

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF SOMEONE WHO’S FULLY AWARE THAT HE’S FUCKING OVER HIS FUTURE SELF, AND DOESN’T GIVE A DAMN.

Tsuna continues his mood marathon by freaking out at the sudden appearance of a cockroach!

Gokudera gets ready to BLOW THAT SHIT UP (you don’t fuck around with roaches okay)

But Tsuna ignores this completely and calls his mom because of course he does. What else are moms even there for?

Next, Maman calls Tsuna for help moving the couch. You can see where this is going.

…Okay, I was trying to hold off on essaying about this until the end, but this in particular is the perfect example of what this chapter is trying to get at (and outright says later on). Tsuna and Gokudera occupy different positions in each other’s minds, and right now, these feelings don’t line up. Gokudera thinks of Tsuna as his boss—someone above him. But Tsuna does not think of Gokudera as his subordinate (someone below him). He thinks of him as his friend! An equal!

But unlike Gokudera, Tsuna is actually aware of this dissonance between them. After all, Gokudera makes no secret of the fact that he worships Tsuna. And because Tsuna doesn’t like it, he goes out of his way not to actually treat Gokudera like a subordinate. Therefore, he doesn’t ask Gokudera to do menial tasks for him like killing a bug or moving the couch. If they actually were more like normal friends, he probably wouldn’t hesitate! But since Gokudera constantly treats him like a boss as it is, the last thing Tsuna wants to do is actively encourage it and actually start bossing Gokudera around in any sort of way.

This is something Gokudera just doesn’t get, and I’m 100% sure is one of the main reasons why Reborn came up with this challenge for him to begin with. Because if these two are ever going to learn to understand each other better, Gokudera needs to realize this for himself.

Anyway.

Next up, Lambo haphazardly endangers someone’s life again because that is basically his sole function in the entire Daily Life arc. Long story short, he blows up a telephone pole, which proceeds to fall over, nearly killing Tsuna in the process. Fortunately, Gokudera is there to save the—

Well. He tried.

Anyway, once this is all over, and Gokudera apologizes, Tsuna finally asks him what’s wrong, because of course he was able to tell because he’s the best, TSUNA I LOVE YOU. So Gokudera tells him all about the promotion.

Tsuna acts fucking thrilled and over the moon for him and insists on throwing a party to congratulate him, and I’m sorry but I have to stop and rant AGAIN, because Amano packed so many feelings into this simple little chapter, and I don’t have any more room in my closet to put them!! So I’m just going to vomit them all over my blog s-sigh.

This.

is.

all.

fake.

Tsuna is not thrilled to hear that Gokudera is going back to Italy. He is not actually happy. But he pretends to be happy, for Gokudera’s sake. Whoa there, HOLD THE FUCK UP because LOOK AT THIS SUPER SNEAKY CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT THAT JUST DIVEBOMBED IN OUT OF NOWHERE.

So Tsuna has gone from being terrified of Gokudera, to genuinely thinking of him as a friend! To the point where not only is he upset to learn that he might be leaving, but he’s also conscious enough of Gokudera’s own feelings to pretend that he’s not upset and to try and support Gokudera as much as possible.

And maybe that doesn’t seem like such a big deal, but it is, because if you go back to some of the earlier chapters and look at their relationship, it’s so fucking different from this. The only emotion Tsuna ever seems to show around Gokudera in the early chapters is “stressed.” There is literally a chapter dedicated to making fun of the fact that all Gokudera ever does is stress Tsuna out and all Tsuna ever does is complain about it.

Fast-forward to here, where Tsuna has become completely accepting of Gokudera’s weird behavior and just rolls with it, because underneath that initially scary layer of “wacky, destructive, overly-devoted Gokudera” is a solid core of “Gokudera who is my friend.” They’ve known each other for a year and a half now, and Gokudera has always been there for Tsuna no matter what—even when that commitment only ends up causing more trouble—and Tsuna has finally come to appreciate it. And it’s about damn time too, because Gokudera Hayatos don’t just grow on trees! KEEP APPRECIATING HIM, TSUNA. You lucky bastard.

Sob so where was I oh my god. Okay so Gokudera gets a ton of warm fuzzies from this and decides that he really will go to Italy, for Tsuna’s sake. Because remember, Dino is a fucking liar.

So Gokudera runs off! BUT SUDDENLY he realizes he left his lighter at Tsuna’s house. How convenient! And at this very same moment, Reborn abruptly decides to initiate a conversation with Tsuna all about how much he really does appreciate Gokudera as a friend and doesn’t actually want him to leave. ALSO CONVENIENT.

Except I don’t think for one second this is a coincidence, and in fact, I fully believe that Reborn actually stole Gokudera’s lighter, waited for him to realize it and come back, and then purposely went and got Tsuna monologuing at exactly the right moment for Gokudera to “accidentally” overhear it. Yep.

Am I giving Reborn too much credit here? Maybe. But then again, maybe not, because it’s Reborn, and if you don’t think he’s playing the long game with Tsuna’s future right hand man just as much as he is with Tsuna himself, then you may just be underestimating him.

Anyway, so we then get a page or two of Tsuna blabbing about his complicated Gokudera feelings, but since I already essayed about them above, I will spare you the rehash.

Gokudera overhears it and has a Moment of Feels and decides he will stay in Japan because Tsuna wants him there, as his friend, and to Tsuna that’s more important than Gokudera serving him in Italy as just his subordinate.

If you don’t think that’s exactly what Reborn fucking planned, then clearly we are not reading this series with the same conspiracy goggles.

The next day, a wild Yamamoto appears (wow it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport don’t you think that’s weird), all set to go on a trip to Italy with Dino, because Gokudera told him that was a thing that was happening, so obviously Yamamoto believed him because WHY WOULD GOKUDERA EVER LIE.

This is adorable, and while you may think it was kind of dumb of Yamamoto to actually pack his bags and everything, you have to consider that it’s impossible for anyone to actually say no to that face. Which was probably his back-up plan, AND IT FUCKING WORKED, too.

Dino is happy that Gokudera didn’t come, and Reborn pops up and they have a very disturbing conversation about how there was a plot to murder this innocent child if he actually did fall for their fucked up bait-and-switch, and even though Dino says he would have secretly helped Gokudera escape if it came to that, I still kind of want to punch him in his handsome face, just a little bit.

But Reborn knew all along it wouldn’t happen.

Because he’s the master fucking manipulator raising the splendid tenth generation of the Vongola, and we’re all just here to watch him do his thing

Finally this chapter ends, on two note-perfect moments.

This may honestly be my favorite line in the series.

And words can’t express how much I love the fact that Dino, faced with the prospect of turning down Yamamoto’s innocently smiling face, decided it would be easier and less taxing on his soul to just actually fly him out to Italy for a nice vacation. I wonder how many times Takeshi has pulled this kind of bullshit with his dad. I wonder if anyone has ever turned him down for anything, if it comes to that. Dino, you done been played.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #yay old chapter #long post #essay #character rant #gokudera hayato #sawada tsunayoshi #reborn #dino cavallone #yamamoto takeshi #don't you ever think #not for one fucking second #no matter how much I talk about how dino is handsome #or how many times I say that yamamoto is perfect #that it means gokudera hayato is not in fact my ultimate all-time favorite #because I will pretend to write a chapter recap and then make it actually a 3000 word essay all about how he is #thank you and good night

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sumigakure · 6 years ago

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To: @will-zeke-thomson

From: @fullmetalruby / @pwnie3

Title: a refuge for my spirit’s sake

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 3755

Prompt: Kiba Inuzuka is a “Bad boy” who looks tough and has a reputation for starting fights and a few run ins with the law for things but only gets in trouble because he doesn’t tolerate bad animal owners. He brings home strays to take care of. Shaggy and unkempt Kiba, piercings and tattoos, Kiba smart enough to one day be a vet like his sister, his friends supporting him but at the same time “Can you not call me at 3 am to bail you out of jail again?”, animal cuddling and shenanigans, Kiba and Naruto interactions.

Warning/Notes: Cursing, Kakashi is implied to be a bit of a floozy, Kakashi and Naruto speak to each other in Spanish for the most part but there’s translations

(It starts with Kiba following his sister’s path, and while he is very good at following he has always followed Hana a few steps behind and to the left.)

Naruto has always been on the fence about this whole “law” thing. Sometimes statues need to be defaced. Sometimes people need to get embarrassed in public. Sometime in his youth Naruto decided that “vandalism” and “public disturbance” are just things cops made up to take the fun out of life.

But that said, Naruto is usually alone in the police station at 1:15 AM, save for whatever unfortunate cop was stuck on what he knows to be called “Naruto Watch” while they wait for Kakashi to come pick him up.

Instead of solitude, Naruto finds himself staring down Kiba Inuzuka.

He’s not about to pretend that Kiba isn’t a bit threatening: Kiba is the same age as Naruto, 16, and has been wearing leather jackets and multiple ear piercings since before Naruto even met him. It might just be the fact that Naruto’s been awake since 4:30 this morning, but he could almost swear that the leather jacket is moving and making noise.

Kiba looks fit to murder, and from the look on Mrs. Inuzuka’s face when she shows up to get Kiba, it’s either a resting murder face or murder is an inherited hobby.

“What did you do?” She demands, grabbing Kiba by the ear and hoisting him out of his seat like a ragdoll.

Officer Whatshisnuts over behind the desk hands Mrs. Inuzuka the report without even asking. Is Kiba a repeat offender too, and has Naruto just never seen him before? Either way, his mom skims the report, never letting go of her son, and eventually snaps it shut.

She turns to Kiba. “Come on. Home.”

Kiba makes dead eye contact with Naruto on his way out, and he fights to not shiver.

In the end, Kakashi doesn’t actually make it to the station until after 2. Judging by the shirt he’s wearing (which, if going by the size, isn’t his), the expression on his face, and the blooming hickeys on his neck, the officer– who Naruto has learned is new to this precinct and is named Yahiko– interrupted an impromptu date night with his squeeze of the week.

Serves the guy right. By this point, Kakashi should know better than to think he can get anything done at night during a school break.

“Tell me, was it vandalism, public disturbance, or harassment this time?” Kakashi snarks as he waits for Yahiko to process Naruto’s release. “You’ve been inconsistent lately.”

“Breaking and entering,” Naruto answers without hesitation. “And vandalism, but that’s beyond the point.”

Kakashi fixes Naruto with a Look, turns away, then starts gossiping with Yahiko. It becomes quickly apparent that Kakashi is flirting. Also apparent is Yahiko’s reciprocation.

“Kashi, I wanna go home. It’s late,” Naruto says, tugging on his cousin’s sleeve.

The older man doesn’t skip a beat. “Suffer,” he intones, and Naruto picks Kakashi’s pocket for his phone. Predictably, Kakashi doesn’t have Sasuke in his contacts, but Naruto memorized Sasuke’s number ages ago.

“I don’t know what’s more pathetic,” Sasuke opens. “That you’re calling me at half past two in the morning, or that I picked up.”

“Definitely that you picked up,” Sakura says from the side, because of course she’s there too. “Or that Naruto is calling from the contact Sasuke has saved as ‘Naruto got arrested again’. What’s up with that?”

“I’m on Kakashi’s phone. Mine is still in evidence somewhere.”

Sasuke hums. “Was it vandalism or public disturbance?” he asks.

Naruto huffs. “I really wish people would stop asking that. I’m not that predictable.”

“Yes you are,” Sasuke and Sakura chorus. Naruto wants to be insulted with how prompt their answer was, but he really can’t.

“Whatever. I’m not gonna ask what you two are doing together after midnight on a weekday. But I’ll tell you that after I got picked up for breaking and entering–” Naruto stresses the new offense– “you guys will never guess who I met at the station.”

Sakura makes a contemplative sound. “Was it Shika and Chouji again? I think Ino said something about getting blazed in the park tonight.”

Somehow, Naruto gets the impression that Ino only told Sakura because she was pissed about being the designated sober person at that particular party, though that thought may come from the fact that he watched Ino hurrying the boys past the station at about 1:30.

“Nah. I saw them, though. Try again.”

“Was Sai vandalizing buildings again?” Sasuke groans. “He’s not home and Obito’s going spare.”

“If your cousin got arrested, then he wasn’t brought here. No, I saw Kiba Inuzuka.”

For a moment, the other end of the line is silent. “You saw him and survived?” Sakura asks. “Last time I heard, he switched classes for like, the third time because he kept getting into fights.”

“What did he do to get arrested?”

Naruto picks at a hangnail. “I dunno. The officer just handed Missus Inuzuka the file and she walked away.”

Sasuke groans. “Well, was he covered in blood or anything?”

“Not so much blood, more like, dirt and animal hair. I think that’s normal?” Naruto says. “I think he had more piercings than last time I saw him, but it’s been a hot sec.”

“Well, if there’s nothing really interesting that went on tonight, Sasuke and I should go back to studying. And you should gank Kakashi’s car keys and go home. You need sleep,” Sakura states, mother-henning him as always.

“You say that like I need sleep more than you do, Sak.”

Sasuke snorts. “Sleep is for people who don’t want a hundred percent. Goodnight, Naruto.”

Then, like a bastard, he hangs up. Asshole. Whatever. Kakashi needs sleep just as much as Naruto does, and if he’s forgotten that then Naruto is very good at reminding him.

He returns Kakashi’s phone to his cousin’s pocket without ceremony. Kakashi peers down at him with his real eye. “And what did Sasuke and Sakura have to say about your near-death experience with the opposing six-year-old?”

“If I’m eight then you’re only twenty, and that means you can’t buy alcohol. And, they said to make you take me home because it’s late and I need to go to bed.”

Kakashi hums. “Fair point. toddlers get cranky when they’re tired, after all.” He turns to Yahiko and smiles at him through the surgical mask. “Could I get my dear, sweet little cousin’s things, Yahiko? He needs his beauty sleep.”

Yahiko nods quickly, and soon enough Kakashi has not only Naruto’s belongings in hand, but a little slip of paper with Yahiko’s number on it too, and then they make their way home.

Naruto shreds Yahiko’s number, but Kakashi has already arranged a date.

Given that he doesn’t remember very much about Kiba, Naruto asks Ino the next day at lunch.

(Okay, yeah, Ino is technically Sakura’s friend and not Naruto’s, but she’s also the biggest source of information for anyone who needs to know anything on campus.)

For a moment she stares at him like he’s grown an extra head, then she squints like she’s remembering seeing Naruto through the station door, and finally she demands to copy his Spanish homework before he gets another word out of her.

“Okay. What do you want to know?” She asks once she’s finished stealing his answers.

Naruto leans forward. “Anything and everything you can tell me about Kiba Inuzuka.”

She taps her chin with her eraser. “Well, he gets in trouble a lot. Fights, you know? Also breaking and entering, stealing, all that fun stuff. He doesn’t get expelled because admin is more scared of his mom than they are of like, all the other parents combined, and also she might be banging Principal Senju? I dunno, sources are murky on that. But like, I guess it started when his sister went off to college, but that’s when he stopped hanging out with me, so I don’t have the real deets there.”

He kinda feels like this is going to be on a test somewhere– why does Kiba Inuzuka act the way he does? Because a) his sister left, b) his father was killed by a six-fingered man, c)…– but instead of taking notes Naruto just nods along and tries to commit it to memory.

“He sticks to the yard during lunch, always sits in the back of the classroom and all that. The only people I ever see him hanging around are Shino and Hinata, and sometimes that Sabakuno kid,” Ino continues.

Gaara? Wait, no, Gaara has a brother, and Kankurou is much more the type of person who would want to hang out around a guy like Kiba. Not to mention that Ino wouldn’t be caught dead referring to Temari as “that Sabakuno kid” when she knows that Temari has ears like a bat and fists like lightning.

Ino rocks back in her chair. “That’s about all I can think of right now. Proofread my Spanish essay due tomorrow and I’ll see what else I can dig up.”

“No thanks,” Naruto says. Not that he doesn’t want more info on Kiba, but he’s shit at essays and his edits are only going to lower her overall grade.

He retreats to Sasuke and Sakura, placated with this new knowledge.

It takes a hot sec for fate to throw Naruto and Kiba together again, but in the end she does her work and, at 9:45 PM on a Saturday, Naruto ends up waiting for the bus under the same awning as Kiba.

Both of them are silent as they wait and Kiba is brooding, clutching something in a cloth bag close to his chest. Naruto rocks back on his heels. He debates whistling, but he’s hiding from the cops right now– Kakashi’s been ghosting the shit out of Yahiko, who probably should have known better than to put out on a first date with a man who was sporting hickeys and someone else’s shirt when they met, and he’s made it clear that if he has to go pick up Naruto while Yahiko is on shift again then he’s sending Gai– and sound isn’t conducive to remaining unarrested.

When the bus comes, it’s empty except for the driver. The driver looks ready to keel over, so Naruto just scans his bus pass and moves to the back. Kiba follows.

They don’t say a word to each other for an uncomfortable few minutes, but that’s when Naruto decides that if Kiba didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t have sat so close to Naruto on an empty bus.

He peers at the bag out of the corner of his eye. “So,” he drawls, extending the vowel further than necessary. “How’s about that weather?”

Kiba glares at him. “It’s pouring rain, and the forecast says it’s supposed to start snowing tomorrow. How do you think I feel about the weather?

Naruto shrugs. “Some people like the snow.”

Kiba moves suddenly, closer to Naruto than he’d like in an instant. Naruto starts praying. Then Kiba opens the bag in his arms, and Naruto closes his eyes, expecting some souvenir of murder–

Then, a tiny sound makes him look. The bag is full, not of severed fingers, but of five tiny, drenched kittens.

“Found ‘em on my way home from a friend’s house. Alley a few blocks back.” Kiba scratches the head of one of the kittens. “Little guys like these won’t survive in the snow, and I only have so much room at my house.”

“I’ll take one!” Naruto exclaims before he knows what he’s doing. Kakashi is going to kill him. Or maybe this will finally curb Kakashi’s boyfriend habit. Or maybe Kakashi’s dogs will kill the tiny creature.

Kakashi can’t get rid of what he doesn’t know about, Naruto’s mind supplies, and he smiles.

Kiba looks like he’s been slapped. “You want one?”

Nodding, Naruto reaches over and pets a red kitten. “And I can think of someone else who needs a cat too.”

“Do you even know how to take care of a cat?” Kiba asks incredulously.

Naruto pouts. “Of course I do. My parents used to have one, and my cousin has a few dogs. It’s not that different, right?”

Immediately, Kiba fluffs up like an animal on the defensive. “Not that different?”

And just like that, he launches into a lecture on proper cat care, and specifically proper kitten care. Naruto learns more in those ten minutes than he ever did in school, and by the end he’s kinda zoned out.

But fuck, has Kiba always been this pretty when he talks?

Not that Naruto has ever really watched Kiba talk before; they only ever exchanged a few words before Kiba stopped hanging out with most people, and this is the first conversation they’ve had since, but goddamn. Are all people this gorgeous when they get passionate, or it that just Kiba?

Yes, Naruto decides. Sakura gets like this when she talks about wrestling, and Sasuke is at his most ethereal when rambling about recent advancements in biochemistry. Maybe everyone is just pretty at all times.

After a while, Kiba just stops talking and makes a grabby motion at Naruto. “Gimme your phone. I’m just gonna text you all of this.”

Mutely, Naruto does so, and Kiba sends himself a text using Naruto’s phone. As soon as he has, he sets down the bag full of kittens on the seat between them, and Naruto is immediately drawn to a little red one.

Okay, so that’s the one he’s keeping for himself. Then he picks another, this time the tiniest of the litter, a black ball of fluff that hisses weakly at him when he tries to pick it up.

“He won’t hurt you. Their teeth can’t do much right now,” Kiba reassures. “It might sting a bit, but there’s no way he’ll break skin.”

Kiba spends the rest of the bus ride showing Naruto how to properly hold a kitten (“Supposedly there’s a right way to do this, but cats are essentially made of rubber so I wouldn’t be too worried. Just put them down when they squeak and you should be fine.”) and telling him about the best kinds of cat food.

Eventually, when Naruto’s stop draws near, he sticks a kitten into each inside pocket of his jacket and zips it up. Kiba looks at him funny, but doesn’t say anything, so as long Naruto’s careful to not bump into anything he figures he’ll be fine.

Naruto’s phone buzzes with a text from Kiba already. “Come by that address tomorrow morning, and I’ll hook you up with all the proper cat care equipment.”

The bus stop is about a block away from the apartment Naruto shares with Kakashi and his buddy Gai, and he spends the entire walk there trying to calm down and be inconspicuous.

It’s late enough that he almost expects Kakashi to already be asleep when he gets home, and he knows that Gai is always in bed at 9, so he lets himself in and tries to be quiet. The dogs don’t all maul him when he walks in, so he thinks that maybe they’ve already been put to bed–

Kakashi calls out a greeting from the living room. Damn.

He contemplates just going straight to his room and pretending that he didn’t hear his cousin, but decides in an instant that it would be a bad idea and proceeds to join Kakashi.

Bull immediately walks over to Naruto and ruts his head against Naruto’s hand and jacket, and one of the kittens in Naruto’s pocket lets out a tiny mewl.

Like a hawk on the hunt, Kakashi’s eyes narrow and he puts his book down. “Esta es una casa de perro.”

“Lo sé, pero uno de mis compañeros no tiene espacio en su casa para todos ellos.” Naruto hunched in on himself. He knew that this was the inevitable outcome. How long did he expect to keep a cat (or two) secret from a guy like Kakashi? “Además, uno de los gatitos es para Sasuke.”

Kakashi groans. “Eso no lo hace mejor.Todavía trajiste a casa a dos gatos sin preguntar.”

“No es como si los pudiera devolver ahora. Hice un compromiso.” Naruto rebutts. Also it’s his only excuse to see Kiba again, which is something he’s interested in retaining.

Burying his face in his hands, Kakashi sighs. He doesn’t say anything, then sighs again. ”Lo llevaré con Gai por la mañana.”</>

And Naruto knows he’s won: Gai will be on his side. If for no other reason than to disagree with Kakashi on something that won’t get him in trouble.

(Why aren’t Gai and Kakashi married already? Oh yeah, because Kakashi is an emotionally constipated twink who doesn’t know how to differentiate between love, lust, and friendship, and Gai is waiting for Kakashi to make the first move.

Idiots, both of them.)

He bids Kakashi goodnight, and retreats to his room before Kakashi can say anything else.

The next morning sees Naruto grabbing the two kittens from the sock drawer where they slept– he’s named the red one Kurama, but the black one is gonna be Sasuke’s so it’s yet nameless– plugging the address Kiba texted him into Google Maps, and borrowing Kakashi’s ugly mom van.

He probably should have figured it would be a pet supply store, but he’s still pleasantly surprised (disappointed?) when he arrives at Tsume’s Pet Supply. He had half been hoping it was Kiba’s house.

10:37 AM

Naruto to Kiba

Naruto: im here where r u

Kiba: come inside

The interior of the store is rows upon rows of different kinds of food, toys, bowls, leashes, and tiny outfits for every kind of pet that’s legal to own in the country and probably some that aren’t. Across one wall is an array of pens, each with an attendant or two and easily a dozen pets inside per employee.

One of the dog attendants is Kiba.

He looks radiant: the sun through the window opposite him is casting him in golden light and making him look like he’s been dipped in honey. His shaggy hair is pulled back, not into a ponytail but half of one, and his t-shirt in the warm interior of the store leaves his arms bare and actually fucking tattoos visible.

There, on Kiba’s bicep, Naruto can see a name inside a heart, but he can’t quite make out what the name is. Crawling up from his wrists are messes of vines in black or dark green. Small purple flowers peek out from between the tendrils– on his right, they’re lavender. On his left, indigo.

Is it possible to fall in love in twelve hours? No, of course not you idiot, says a voice that sounds suspiciously like Sasuke in the back of his head. Shut up Sasuke.

Kiba spots him and extracts himself from the mess of dogs he’d had in his lap. As quick as winking, Kiba is by Naruto’s side.

“I will admit, I did not expect you to actually show up, much less this early,” Kiba opens. “Did you bring the cats with you?”

Naruto nods. “I was hoping to take the second one to my friend right after this, so yeah.”

Kiba beckons Naruto to follow him further into the store, right to the cat section. He snags a cart on the way, and passes it to Naruto. “You’ll need this. You’re getting two of everything, right?”

Again, Naruto nods. Glancing at the prices on some of these items, he realizes that Sasuke is never getting another Christmas present from Naruto for the rest of his life.

Kiba loads the cart with what he deems to be the kitten essentials, and Naruto surreptitiously checks his account balance to see if he can afford all this. Probably? God he hopes so.

He ends up just barely being able to afford everything in his cart, and Naruto praises every god he can name.

“Are you dingle?” He blurts out just as Kiba is handing him his receipt.

Kiba raises an eyebrow. “Am I what?”

“Dingle! Ningle!” He takes a breath. “Single! Are you single!”

The other teen smiles. “Yeah. What about it?”

Seeing Kiba Inuzuka smile is like watching the sun rise, if the sun could literally bite your ear off and then probably howl over your corpse. Naruto never wants him to stop.

“Can I make you not single?” Naruto asks lamely.

Kiba’s grin grows wider, and he quickly scribbles something on the back of Naruto’s receipt. “Hell yeah you can.”

Sasuke answers his door to find his best friend looking blazed off his ass, and holding three large shopping backs and a kitten.

“Merry Christmas, sauce gay,” Naruto hums. “I got you a cat.”

He doesn’t know how to react. When did he ever say he wanted a cat? That said, he never said he didn’t want a cat, and to Naruto those things are synonymous, so Sasuke takes the fluffy black kitten from Naruto’s grasp and looks into it’s angry little eyes and immediately knows what to call it.

“It’s name is Madara,” he announces.

“What’s named Madara?” Obito asks, poking his head into the hallway.

Sasuke holds up the kitten. Obito starts to lose his shit. “You’re naming a cat after our great uncle?”

“Yeah? I don’t see your point.” Sasuke pulls Naruto into the house. “What’s got your head in the clouds?”

Naruto flops down on the recliner as soon as they enter Sasuke’s room. “I have a boyfriend now.”

Sasuke looks at Naruto, then at the bags he dropped next to Sasuke’s bed, then at the cat, then back to Naruto. “Naruto Uzumaki, tell me you’re not referring to the school delinquent Kiba Inuzuka. Please. For my own sanity.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed of himself, then mimes zipping his lips shut.

“God damnit, Naruto.”

#Prompt Fill #rated: T #submission #sumigakure #sumigakure winter wishes #sumigakure winter wishes 2018 #fullmetalruby #pwnie3

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fromthe-seoul · 7 years ago

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Seventeen Ways to Succeed in College: Drink Coffee

“you work in the cafeteria on campus and i order the same thing every day so we keep making small talk and wow you actually seem pretty cool”

genre: fluff

words: 1.6k

a/n: welcome to the next installment of the seventeen ways series! i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get any kind of writing out, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless~

The first time you encounter Jeon Wonwoo, you are sheepishly ordering an iced Americano with an extra shot at 9 o’clock in the evening. The dorm cafeteria is surprisingly lively with other students playing games and chatting over steaming cups, but you have a mission to complete.

The embarrassment is evident from the way your cheeks burn like self-powering space heaters, especially the tall, reserved boy taking your order. Or maybe not. He doesn’t seem to care too much that it’s only the second week of September and you’re ordering enough caffeine to fuel you through the first five hours of your first all-nighter of the semester. Your sweats and high-school tee pale in comparison to his simple, white button-up with sleeves effortlessly rolled up his forearms.

“May I have a name for the order?” he questions, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the rich, oaky timbre of his voice. It hits your ears like you would imagine it would be like to swim in a pool of chocolate: deliciously thick, warm, and viscous. You provide his question with the correct answer and watch as he scrawls it on the side of the clear plastic cup. You nearly ask him some asinine question just to hear him speak again but your wish is thankfully granted by his dulcet tones of “$2.95, please.”

You fumble in your wallet, muttering, “I know I have the exact change somewhere, I need to get rid of all these coins.” He snorts, not unkindly, and you feel acutely aware of his perceptive gaze. It makes you nervous for no reason, and your hands tremor as you produce two dollars, 3 quarters, a dime, and ten pennies into his waiting palm.

“Thanks for taking all these pennies off my hands,” you joke awkwardly, wishing that you could just implode into dust when he looks back up at you through the jet black bangs that frame his forehead. The metal name tag affixed above his breast pocket glints from the fluorescent lighting overhead, and you manage to make out the name: Wonwoo. A useful piece of information to file away.

No problem. It all spends the same, right?” he remarks back and you smile politely and not-at-all wistfully at having to step aside for the next customer. As you wait for your drink you stand and watch Wonwoo interact with other customers. He works with autonomy, fluidity. It’s obvious he’s done this a while; his motions are effortless as he taps the order into the screen and pulls the correct cup from the stacks to inscribe the customer’s name and their preferences in the tiny boxes. Wonwoo looks….dependable. A rarity among students who are only looking to survive themselves.

Your name is called and you hurriedly grab your cup from the girl working behind the espresso machine. Every second you’re standing there moony-eyed over a boy you don’t know is a second wasted when you should be cracking down on the essay you need to pull out of your ass before the night is up.

You do, however, chance a look behind you as you walk away. Wonwoo doesn’t look back at you like a scene from a rom-com, but remains focused, steady. You smile privately and leave, in search of a less distracting place to complete your work.

Unfortunately your dependence on caffeine and tendency to procrastinate leads you to similar interactions as the weeks go by. Each and every time it reaches that time of night where students are making the crucial choice to caffeinate and slug through their forgotten work or give up and just go to bed, you find yourself in line at the cafe for a concentrated jolt of power juice. And every time, you came face to face with Wonwoo, the apathetic receiver of your awkward small talk.

You assumed that after word vomiting and dragging this painfully cute and deadpan boy into multiple pointless conversations about the quality of the dining hall salad bar and the ever-relatable desire to be hit by a unwieldy campus bus, that Wonwoo would eventually start avoiding you and subtly have someone else take your order when you would show up every Sunday night. It was like talking to a brick wall trying to converse with him, but for some odd reason, you kept trying. Call you shameless, persistent, whatever, but for some reason talking to Wonwoo was...fun. He actually listens to you, and even if it was only out of obligation, he validated your strong opinions on the difference between iceberg lettuce and romaine.

Yet you still couldn’t avoid the encroaching guilt of annoying him. That’s why you were so surprised when you received your coffee with an extra shot of espresso that you certainly didn’t order. Wonwoo would occasionally ask the nature of the assignment you were rushing to finish, and today you were under the massive pressure of a midterm research paper. It was a pleasant surprise to find that perhaps you weren’t the only one who enjoyed every Sunday night. You smile into your coffee as you sit down at a nearby table with your laptop and notes. You had taken to sitting near the cafe, if only to casually sneak glances at Wonwoo as he worked.

Some small part of you hoped he was doing the same.

It became a pattern. Every time you had a large assignment looming over your head, an extra espresso shot would find its way into your order. Wonwoo had become even less subtle about it, writing the extra on the cup as you still chatted away. He’d even granted you a smile one time as you bragged about how smart your cat back home is. This boy had single-handedly made you into a reliable customer, but you couldn’t help but want more. You wanted to see him somewhere besides behind the cash register, in something other than a button-up rolled up to the elbows. You wanted to know what he does for fun, for boredom. You wanted to ask him out.

The next Sunday comes, and you steel your nerves for what you are about to do. With a nervous smile, you approach the counter. Wonwoo looks as gorgeous and stoic as always, but his eyebrows are relaxed, which you came to find means he was in a good mood.

“Hey, Wonwoo. The usual, please,” you greet cheerily, pulling your wallet out.

“How’s the workload this week, ______?” he replies routinely, scribbling on a cup and typing in the computer, just as usual. You swallow harshly, fiddling with the zipper of your wristlet. Get a goddamn grip, you berate yourself. You’re giving him your number, not getting married.

“Pretty light, actually. I only have a few more things to take care of and I should be free and clear through next week! I may not even need to come in next Sunday,” you joke, but your smile falls when you catch the briefest moment of furrowed brows following your teasing quip.

“Ah, I see,” he murmurs, handing your cup to the other employee and holds out his hand for payment. You hand him your credit card, and surprise flickers across his eyes. You have always paid with cash.

Nevertheless, he slides your card and returns it, handing you a receipt for you to sign--the whole point of your plan. You gingerly take the pen from him and slide behind the register, out of his view. Hurriedly you add a tip and sign for the purchase, but not before scribbling your number at the very bottom followed by a lopsided smiley face.

“Here you go, Wonwoo, have a good week!” You hastily hand him the slip and move out of line before you can see his expression when he sees the note you left him. You purposely stand out of his view waiting for your drink and don’t stick around to study. If he looks like he’ll reject you, you’d rather not have to see it now.

The week passes like molasses, dragged on by the fact that you receive zero texts from Wonwoo. The longer it gets from Sunday, the more your brain whizzes, jumping around from every possible scenario. Maybe he actually hates you and wants nothing to do with you? Maybe he didn’t even see your note and you’re waiting around for nothing? Maybe you’re just hopeless and should crawl into a cave and never come out?

Saturday night arrives and you’re snuggling yourself into bed for a long Netflix binge. Your snacks and phone rest just outside your blanket cocoon, and you’re just about to hit play on the newest season of Bob’s Burgers when your cell buzzes. The preview on your lock screen shows a number you don’t recognize, and the only message is a simple “hey.”

Your heartbeat picks up and you open the message, only to find another message pop up, and another.

>this is wonwoo

>from the cafe, of course

>i’m sorry i haven’t texted you until now, i’m not very good at the whole reaching out thing but i’m glad you gave me your number.

>you said you were going to be free sunday, and coincidentally i took the night off

>do you wanna go out?

You blush unconsciously at his multiple texts and clear nerves but your heart lightens. You were going on a date with the cute, quiet barista.

<Of course i’d like to go out~ What time tomorrow?

#wonwoo #seventeen #wonwoo scenario #seventeen scenario #fluff #seventeen ways to succeed in college

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lilieevans-blog · 8 years ago

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Build-A-Daddy

or “the college au where lily is a single mom struggling with finishing school and raising a child, and james discovers he quite likes babysitting” (AO3)

(p.s.: thank you to @gxldentrio for being a lovely beta reader!)

Chapter: 1/2

She’s just another face in the crowd.

But she stands out.

She’s battling her way through the waves of I’m late-s, I should have gone to bed earlier-s and Why haven’t I started that bloody paper yet-s entangling themselves in people's legs. They trip, but she bears on.

Her hair is made of flames; they lick their way through the sea of people, turning them to ashes, burning a path for her - James is entranced. Her brow is furrowed with decision, and she doesn’t hesitate to nudge someone out of her way with her shoulder, or to make herself bigger with the size of her backpack which looks like it could make her topple over. She parts the flood with sheer determination in her eyes.

She’s unstoppable.

“Hey!”

He goes unnoticed.

“Hey, er - you!”

James can’t resist. He has to talk to her.

The girl turns around and the force with which her backpack hits him almost makes him fall over, but he catches himself just in time.

“Oops, I’m sorry!”

“No worries, er…”

The girl glances at the clock that hangs in the school corridor, then balances on her heels, looking at him expectantly. James realises she’s waiting for him to say something; he’s the one who interrupted her march after all.

His mind, usually overflowing with colours, blanks out.

“Er - ”

He curses himself. He had been so busy trying to get her attention that he hadn’t thought about what he would say to her if he actually got it.

She peeks at the clock again, then takes a step back.

“Listen, I really need to go - sorry!”

She turns around and dives back into the crowd that swallows her whole.

“But -”

It's too late. She's gone. James shakes his head, then runs a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on the spot from which she dropped out of sight.

∞

He starts seeing her everywhere; in the library, walking past the fall of the Roman Empire and the Renaissance, in the corridors between classes, at the bus stop on campus. She’s a spark that bursts out of a fire, only to die out just before he has the chance to catch it.

This time he notices her in the cafeteria. He’s sitting down at a table when he distinguishes her now familiar crimson hair. She’s in the queue waiting to pay, a sandwich in one hand, a twitch in the other, while she taps her foot to the beat of a seconds clock hand. She doesn’t have a tray in her hand. She’s eating out. Damn it .

“Earth to James.”

James blinks and slowly sits down, his eyes glued on the girl.

“James’ middle name is -”

He snaps out of his entrancement and plunges onto the long-haired boy sitting next to him, covering his mouth with his hands.

“You promised, Sirius! You promised you wouldn't say anything!”

“Let me go!” says the boy, his voice muffled by James’ hands.

A second later he jerks his hand away, howling with pain. The people in the Great Hall steal glances at them.

“You animal! You bit me!” he says unfazed by the attention they’re getting.

Sirius bites the air and looks at him with a self-satisfied grin.

“Kinky,” says Remus.

James glares at him and latter squints his eyes giving him a fake smile.

“What was the sole center of your attention this time?”

“A girl probably,” Peter purrs.

Sirius swings an arm around James’ shoulders.

“A girl? You should have said so immediately! When do we get to meet her?” he says loudly, turning around to look at the queue.

Remus strains his neck and Peter gets up on his chair, standing on his toes.

“Cut it out! She’ll see you!” he says grabbing Sirius by the chin, forcing him to look in the opposite direction.

Sirius bares his teeth at him.

“Who’ll see you?” says Marlene dropping her tray on the table with a clatter, then plopping herself next to James.“James’ COTW,” says Remus.

Hestia, who’s arrived with Marlene, takes a seat next to him.

“James’ what?” she says, her soft-spoken voice barely audible over the roar of the cafeteria.

“James’ Crush of the Week.”

“I thought he already had a crush of the week.”

“Technically, he's had four,” Peter says taking a bite out of his sausage, having given up the search of James’ new crush.

Marlene turns around, perching her elbow on the back of her chair.

“So, who is this mystery girl? Anyone I know?”

James peers at the queue again, then slumps in his chair.

“She's not there anymore,” he says, his lower lip dropping like a child’s.

“Poor bloke. Can’t keep a girl satisfied,” Sirius says leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head.

“Neither can you,” snaps James.

“But that, my friend, is for a whole other reason.”

“She probably saw the lot of us staring and ran for her life,” says Remus.

Hestia nods approvingly.

“Clever girl.”

“What sort of friends ruin your only chances to speak to the girl of your dreams?” he says glaring at them.

“So this would be James’ fifth GOHD ?”

“Sixth,” says Peter counting on his fingers. “No, wait! Seventh. Two of them he's met this week.”

“I'm sensing a pattern here…”

Marlene snorts.

“Yeah, it's that this love-struck dork will have the hots for anyone who sets their eyes on him for more than five seconds.”

Sirius gasps, his eyes alight with understanding.

“That explains why he's always been in love with me,” he says snapping his fingers. “I mean, I keep telling him he's like a brother to me.”

“Kinky,” says Remus, his lip curled.

“The chances of me being in love with you are lower than those of me kissing Filch!”

Sirius clutches his heart.

“Ouch.”

“How did you meet this girl anyway?” says Hestia, honest interest in her voice.

James messes up his hair and sighs.

“I saw her in the corridors, but I don't know who she is. I haven't seen her around before.”

He looks up at them with hopeful eyes.

“Do you guys know her? She’s got deep red hair and these amazing green eyes. Like emeralds,” he says a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Remus snorts.

“Have you already written sonnets about those eyes, James?”

“He's probably written his next essay on them.”

“I know her,” pipes in Hestia.

James slams his hands on the table, making Peter jump and spill lemonade all over his Star Wars t-shirt.

“Prick!”

Sirius snickers.

“You do?! You’ve got to introduce me to her!”

“But - ”

“Hestia, you don't understand! My life depends on it!”

“But, James - ”

James throws his arms in the air.

“Hestia, I thought we were friends! Friends are supposed to be there for one another! And have each other’s backs!”

“James - ”

“Hestia, what if she was actually the one? The true love of my life? What if she’s really my soulmate, my better half, my kindred spirit, the Juliette to my Romeo, the Isolde to my Tristan, the Angelina to my Brad? Would you really want me to miss the single opportunity that whatever God above - thou be merciful - has given me to meet them? What if I never find someone again? What if I chase aimlessly after love for the rest of my life, because you didn't want to introduce me to her? What if I grow old alone and end up raising an army of fifty-three cats? What if I depart this miserable life alone? Do you really want to live knowing that it’s your fault? Do you really want that weight on your shoul - ”

James feels a splash of cold water hit his face and his fringe slaps against his forehead, soaking wet.

“God, that was getting annoying,” says Marlene banging her empty glass on the table.

A roar of laughter bursts out of Sirius’ mouth, while James’ falls open.

“What goes around comes around,” Peter chants.

James spits water out of his mouth.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Perfect timing, Marlene,” says Sirius while holding his sides. “He really needed a cold shower.”

“Hey look.” says Remus whose squinting face is a couple centimeters away from Peter’s chest. “It looks like pee is leaking out of this storm trooper’s suit.”

∞

James stuffs his paper between his books and empty wrappers - the contents of his messenger bag practically spilling out - unbothered by the fact that it is getting completely crumpled. The last thing he wants right now is to get started with McGonagall’s corrections, but given that his mates have disappeared to God knows where and that his football is currently sporting a hole the size of a ping pong ball in it, he has nothing better to do on his agenda.

(Yes, he has checked. Multiple times.)

He opens the door of the Art History Department and walks down the small flight of stairs, two steps at a time. It's a perfect day to play football, he notes bitterly. The breeze has chased all the clouds away, letting the sunshine warm the fields on this pleasant autumn afternoon. Unfortunately, practice won't start until Wednesday, by when he will have to have bought a new ball. His feet falter and he finds himself walking in the direction of the sport shop close-by. It won't hurt to just have a quick look after all.

His phone beeps, and he opens it, then curses under his breath. Goddammit, that woman can read his mind.

He’s just received an email from McGonagall reminding him of the due date of his paper - that is, in two hours. Begrudgingly, he turns around and drags his feet towards his flat, through the Forbidden Forest, which is the student’s nickname for the park on campus that it had received after last year’s infamous Easter holidays. So infamous had it been that some faculty members - and by faculty members he means McGonagall - had had to draft a series of decrees particular to these events.

(Such of these decrees include:

It is forbidden to push a fellow student on the playground’s swing high enough that they do a complete 360.

It is forbidden to use the slide, causing a fellow student to get stuck in it.

It is forbidden to sneak into the school’s kitchens and steal three pounds of butter in order to unstick forenamed fellow student.

It is forbidden to play on said playground, resulting in the escape of scared children from it.

It is forbidden to climb the trees whilst pretending to be the baboon from The Lion King.

It is forbidden to build a fence around a section of the park and call it the Independent Republic of the Marauders.

It is forbidden to make Professor McGonagall, or any other faculty members, the Public Enemy of the Independent Republic of the Marauders.

It is forbidden to threaten aforementioned faculty members with exile or execution when they attempt to cross the borders of the Independent Republic of the Marauders.) He doesn't worry about how long it takes him to get his flat, given that it’s practically on campus. For the price he pays, he doesn’t expect anything less than that. Luckily, sharing it with Sirius, Remus and Peter makes it affordable, although a bit crammed from time to time. Not that he needs to worry about the rent. He could have easily afforded with all the money he inherited.

A little boy cuts him off. He’s toddling after a flock of pigeons, as fast as his small legs can take him, clapping his hands together in front of him. The birds taunt him; they stay still until he's a second away from catching them, then take flight, leaving the boy grasping at thin thin air. It doesn't wipe the smile off his face though. On the contrary, his silvery laugh echoes through the empty park.

James turns on the spot. There is no one around. He looks over at the playground. No one there. Not on the bench, not on the slide. Not on the empty swing that balances in the wind, its oxidised hinges piercing the stillness with a grating, shrill cry. Where are the boy's parents? He's barely older than one, he can't have possibly gotten here by himself.

He turns around again and finds the baby sitting on his bum, looking shocked. He’s just fallen down. The birds have taken flight and he looks around him with big, watery eyes, his mouth slightly jutting.

“Ma-ma? M - ma-ma?”

He scrunches his face and starts crying, his mouth wide open, and his wails quickly overwhelm those of the swing.

James panics. He strides over to him, but hesitates, and his arms fall at his sides, useless. He has no idea what he should do. Should he pick him and try to calm him, even though it might look like he’s taking him, or should he just sit with him until someone arrives? He runs a hand through his already messy hair, pats his sides awkwardly, his darting eyes searching in the distance, then finally decides to sit down next to him, waiting for his parents to come. The baby’s cries are as loud as an ambulance’s siren, and he hopes that whoever’s looking for him will hear him soon.

“Hey, hey little fellow,” he says with a soothing voice.

“Harry!”

James turns around and sees her running towards them; the girl, the one he’s been seeing everywhere. She screams urgency with her open arms and her flaming hair.

At the sight of her, the little boy named Harry reaches out to her, clutching his small, chubby hands and she picks him up as soon as she reaches him.

“Oh my god,” she says squeezing him and resting her chin on his head “I'm never ever letting my eyes off you again. Never.”

She kisses his forehead, cheeks, neck, nose. Anything she can find. Harry squeals with delight.

“I - I found him here and I had no idea what to do. He started crying and I didn't see anybody around and I couldn't leave him, so - so I just waited.”

“Th - thank you,” she says wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“It's nothing really. It was pathetic.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and studies her. Running a hand through her hair with shaky fingers, she takes a deep, forced breath. She notices him looking and chuckles awkwardly, before tucking her trembling hand under the baby’s arm.

“Are you - er, okay?”

She laughs again, but it ends up sounding like a cry. She breaths deeply.

“Er, y - yeah. Yeah,” she says nodding as if trying to convince herself. “I'm fine. I should, er - ”

“I'm James, by the way,” he pauses, then rubs his neck. “I don't know if you remember this, but we've meet before. In the corridors - ”

“Yeah, I remember. I'm sorry I wasn't particularly nice with you. I was in a hurry.”

She shrugs.

“Don't worry about it,” he says.

He looks at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I'm Lily. Listen, thank you again, but I should - ”

She’s going to leave again.

“ Wouldyouliketogetsomecoffee ?” he blurts out before she has the time to disappear.

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to get some coffee? Or tea. With me.”

She shifts Harry from one hip to the other.

“Er - ”

“Some water?” he says in a high-pitched voice.

She glances at Harry who’s poking a strand of her hair, before yanking his finger away as if he were playing with flames. He squeals with delight when a ray of sunshine catches it on fire.

Lily sighs.

“Okay. Sure.”

A smile tugs at James’ lips.

∞

James grabs the two mismatched mugs and heads to the table where Lily is playing with Harry. They’ve walked into a small cafe, barely five minutes away from campus. The tall window panes on each side of the door let in a clear light that brightens up the whole space and reflects on the checkered clothes that cover round, dark-wooden tables, a small vase of a single, fresh flower on each one. The back wall is covered with a shelf so full of books it seems it could topple over any moment, while the one behind the counter shows a display of teapots of all sizes, shapes and colours.

James sits down and watches Lily lay a napkin on Harry’s head and the little boy scrunches up his face with delight the moment she pulls it off his face. He’s made of rosy cheeks, missing-toothed smiles and giggles that make James’ chest swell. She sets the napkin on his head again and James can almost see the boy shiver with anticipation under it.

“Peek-a-boo!”

His clear laugh fills the air and Lily kisses his temple, laughing against it. A little old couple sitting at the table next to them whisper to each other while stealing glances at them, their faces wrinkling with the lines of past smiles.

“He’s got your eyes,” James says suddenly.

She looks at her son, her eyes shining with happiness, and tucks his fringe behind his ears, unaware of the mop of hair standing up at the back of his head.

“Yeah, he does. He’s the spitting image of his dad though.”

“Does he also go to Hogwarts?”

The question wipes the smile off her face and she nods slowly. They fall silent. James kicks himself mentally.

“I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. I’m not bitter about him looking like his dad.” she says, laughing to herself. “We were never together. His dad and I. One-night stand. I know. Stupid.”

Her lip twists and James scratches his neck.

“It happens.”

Lily snorts.

“Yeah, if you’re stupid enough.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“How would you know?” she says arching her brow. “You've just met me.”

“I just do. And I’m rarely wrong,” he adds with a cocky half-grin.

She shakes her head, but her eyes betray her; they smile.

“It’s true! You look smart!”

“Tell that to my grades.”

“Oh, don’t be modest. I’m sure you smash all your exams.”

She snorts again, but doesn’t contradict him.

“So what are you degreeing in, Mr. I’m-always-right ?”

He puffs his chest out.

“English lit and history of art. You?”

“Bio-chem.”

James crinkles his nose which makes Lily laughs.

“What? You didn’t do well in high school in chemistry?”

“Oh no, I aced my finals,” he says, a smug look painted on his face. She rolls her eyes, but it doesn't discourage him. “What about you? What did you get in your A-levels?”

“A star.”

“See,” he says pointing his hand at her. “I told you you looked smart!”

Harry slams his fists on the table, bringing their attention back to him and Lily strokes his cheek.

“He looks like a nice kid.”

“He is,” she says nodding unconsciously. “He just takes a lot of time.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know, school, being a mum, everything.”

She chuckles.

“I have a sitter that looks after him while I’m in class. The rest of the time I take care of him.”

“When do you study?”

“When he’s asleep.”

“At night?”

She nods.

“And how much sleep do you get?”

“Enough.”

Her voice wavers and she clears her throat to cover it up.

“How is that working out then?”

“I’ll tell you when I find out.”

She tries to make it sound as a joke, but her voice has no real mirth to it. It falls flat on its face.

James knows he should stop badgering her with questions, but he can’t stop himself. He’s just curious. Curious about how she manages to look so alive when she’s got a baby clinging to her side and her education hovering above her head like a sword ready to drop. He wonders if her bones were forged under miles of earth, her heart beating to the fall of the hammer on her skin.

“Why don’t you hire a sitter during the afternoons?”

“My parents don’t have the money. They’ve already gone out of their ways so I could come to this bloody school, and for Harry. And they live too far away to be able to take care of him. And I don’t have enough time for a job. I barely have enough time to study. Or sleep.”

She says this in a deadpan voice as if she has repeated it to herself a thousand times, looking for loopholes, alternatives, tearing its structure apart only to build it back again with her bare hands, stone by stone, to make sure no solution has gone unnoticed. No detail undetected. Any detail. Even a tiny one. Anything that she could hold on to.

Guilt twists at James’ gut. It’s so easy for him to forget about money since he's never had to worry about it. He’s never known the crude reality of not having enough of it; his childhood carries the memories of soft velvet curtains and fine china, not those of unpaid bills and hand-me-down clothes. Those possibilities have never even crossed his mind.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“For what? Getting pregnant? Because I'm not. Sure, since he takes most of my time and energy, it would have been easier if it had happened in ten or fifteen years, when I have a job and financial stability, but I would never regret having him. Never.”

“Good.”

They look at each and he is certain that if he weren’t sitting down, the resolve that radiates out of her eyes would have knocked him down.

Now he knows. She wasn't forged with fire and coal. She runs on it everyday. It makes her function. It's flows through her veins and spills out of her head, blinding anyone who gets in her path. It fuels her.

She’s flame and smoke and spark.

She is the fire.

∞

They walk back to campus, Harry stammering on his bandy legs in front of them.

They take a few steps, Harry stops, picks up trash from the floor, inspects it, smells it, tastes it, spits it out (Lily’s orders). He stumbles forward, falls and picks himself up using a total of seven body parts (James counted). He picks up a rock, shows it to his mum, Lily feigns amazement, shows it to James, he imitates her, Harry giggles. James picks a flower and tickles the little boy’s nose with it. The latter wrinkles his nose, rubs the tickle away, giggles, but he scrunches his nose up at James, a silent invitation to do it again. He complies, Harry grins, little teeth poking out under his lip.

By the time they arrive at the bus stop, Harry is sitting on James’ shoulders, wiggling his small fingers into his hurricane hair. Lily apologises, but James insists he doesn't mind (he loves it). He whistles a song, while Harry babbles along, and, in the end, what should have been a five minute walk has melted into a twenty minute game, the streets their playground.

They stop in front of the Hogwarts library and James picks Harry off his shoulders, then sits him on his hip. Lily’s eyes are fixed on the flower her son is twirling in his hands.

“He seems to like you.”

“What isn't there to like?” James says gesturing to himself.

Harry claps his hands in agreement. She chuckles. He smiles. She checks her wrist; watchless.

“I should probably go. ”

“ CouldIhaveyournumber ?” he says simultaneously.

Lily twists her mouth.

“You'd like to have my number?”

“I'd love to actually.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“But - ”

“Listen, I don't have time - ”

“For what? Exchanging numbers?”

“No, just for - ” she runs a hand through her hair and heaves out a sigh. “Listen, I just don't have time for other people. When I'm not with Harry, I'm in class, when I'm not in class, I'm looking after Harry, when I'm doing neither, I'm doing homework, writing essays and papers, finishing lab or group projects and when I'm doing none of those things then I'm doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

“I -”

“I mean, look! I can't even get coffee with a cute guy without Harry being there!”

He can’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey! It's okay, it's okay. I'm not asking for anything. I just thought that a friend’s number is a nice thing to have.”

She hesitates.

“Plus, I'm an excellent sitter. First month is free of charge, too,” he says winking.

She chuckles.

“Okay, fine.”

“I'd knew you'd come around. They always do when I throw in the free babysitting.”

“Wait until you offer to change diapers for them. They’ll be all over you then.”

“They already are.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

James hands her his phone.

“I'll send myself a text if that's okay,” she says. “You don't have to type in your number in my phone that way.”

She hands it back and James can't help let his fingers linger on hers for a second.

“Your phone.”

“Your baby.”

They exchange.

“So, say bye to James, Harry.”

“Ba-bay, ba-bay,” he says clutching his little hand.

James ruffles the boy’s hair.

“Bye, little fella.”

“That was nice. Er, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“I guess I'll see you later.”

“I would hope so.”

She waves goodbye and turns around. James watches her leave for a moment, then opens his phone and Lily's contact pops up. He throws his head back with laughter.

“See you soon, Hot Mama No Drama!” he says to Lily's back.

She turns around.

“Too much?.”

“No, it's perfect. Catchy and classy.”

Waving one last time, she doubles the corner and disappears, leaving James with an unmistakable giddy feeling fluttering in his chest.

∞

James loves going to their home. It's made up of a small bedroom, a cramped kitchen and a living room, all filled with an array of furniture thrown in together without much thought, baby toys or papers and essays lying on each possible surface. It’s not much, but it works.

He loves that when he walks through the door, Harry’s face breaks into a smile; a smile that could keep him warm on the coldest of winter night. How the little boy now reaches out to him with his small arms and giggles when he throws him in the air then catches him. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

He loves how Harry has picked up little habits from him, like ruffling his hair, to Lily’s great dismay, or grabbing his glasses and pushing them clumsily onto his nose, decorating the lenses with his fingermarks. He gives up on ever having them clean now.

He loves how he laughed that time James spiked the boy’s hair up with water. How the little boy looked to his mum, his belly pushed out with pride and his face beaming with a grin that could eat the whole world.

He loves how Lily smiled in return. Hers is a smile that could set James on fire.

On the best days, the three of them will eat together, sat around the small table between the fridge and the wall. They’ll take turns waving a spoon like an airplane in front of Harry’s face, or making a spectacle of themselves to distract him long enough and stick the food in his mouth before he realises it. James will then spend hours and hours playing with Harry, giving Lily time to catch up on her homework. She’ll sometimes look up at them and wonder how his energy never wavers, how he can play with him for so long - dancing, showing him stuff, running after him - and make Harry laugh and squeal like no one else. It’s innate for him. He doesn’t have to think about it.

She’ll realise she’s falling for him and curse herself for it. She doesn’t have time for friends, much less a boyfriend. She has to take care of Harry. She has to study so she doesn’t waste her parents’ money. She has to pass this bloody year.

On other days, she’ll learn of the three boys he calls his brothers. Of the one who ran away when he was sixteen and that he welcomed in his house like his own. Of how his parent’s died barely two years later. Of how he wouldn’t have made it without his friends.

On bad days, he’ll learn that her grades have been dropping ever since Harry was born. How after moving into the city, she lost contact with all her childhood friends. How her sister hasn’t spoken to her ever since she got pregnant. How she sometimes think she won’t be able to make it too the end of the month without cracking into pieces. How she feels tired all the time. She’s being worn too thin. She’s not big enough. She can’t reach that far, can’t stretch that much.

James wishes he could help her. He wishes she would let him pay for more babysitting hours, so she could have more time to herself, but he knows she would never accept, so he doesn’t ask.

Instead, he spends as much times as he can with them, talking to her, helping her out. His friends think he's gone mental; playing babysitter during his free time when he should be getting ahead on coursework, making sure his grades don't suffer from the neglect. But he loves it. It feels natural to him. It’s rewarding.

When Harry said his name for the first time, James thought nothing would ever be able wipe the wobbly smile that stretched across his face. He ran into the bedroom where Lily was studying at her desk, grabbed her hand and pulled her into the living room without an explanation.

“James, what's wrong? Is Harry hurt?”

They burst in through the door, his hand still around hers and Harry looks up at them from the floor, toys in hand, his eyes still wide open with surprise from James’ sudden exit from the living room. James crouches next to him and gently pushes Harry's hair out of his face.

“Say it again, Harry.”

Wame is his simple answer.

“Did you hear that?” James says turning to Lily. “He said my name!”

“Wame!” Harry says louder this time, reacting to James’ excited tone.

Lily can't help but laugh at James’ boggled expression.

“Lily Evans, tell me you heard it too! That was my name!”

“Are you sure?” Lily says, teasing him. “Because it sounded more like ‘lame’ to me.”

“That was my name! You said my name, Harry!”

“Wame! Wame!”

In a rush of happiness, he springs up, picks Lily up and hugs her, and she can't help the heaps of laughter bubbling out of her mouth like a waterfall.

“He knows my name!”

“That was lame , you idiot! I heard it!”

He lets go of her, her body sliding against his, their faces mere inches from one another.

“Liar, liar, head on fire,” he whispers.

Lily doesn't say anything. She can't concentrate when they're so close together and her t-shirt has ridden up from him putting her back down and his arms are still around her waist and his lips are so close she can feel his breath on her chin.

She remembers how many times she's drilled the thought into her mind that nothing can happen between them. Nothing. She can't let that happen. She can't depend on him like that.

But she doesn't listen. Doesn't care. She feels herself slowly inching towards him, her lips parting, her eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Something pulls at their trousers and they both look down to Harry's grinning face, the tension broken.

“I Wame.”

They let go of each other awkwardly and Lily picks Harry up.

“Wame,” he says jumping excitedly in his mum’s arms.

“That's right little fella.”

∞

James looks down at his notes, not really seeing anything he's been writing until now, and doodles absentmindedly. The professor’s voice is like background noise to him as he traces the outlines of a football and starts filling in its pentagons with his pencil. He looks up at the clock. Still twenty-five minutes to go; too long to go.

“Mr. Potter. Did you hear my question?” says a piercing voice.

James notices that the professor has stopped talking and that all the heads are turned towards him.

Unfazed, he says,

“I'm afraid I didn't, Professor.”

“Well, I will say it again. Might you be able to tell me the similarities and differences between Egyptian and Mesopotamian art?”

James flips the pages of his book, searching for the answer.

“I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for there, Mr. Potter. See, this information you can only get from listening to me.”

“Or google. Which amounts to pretty much the same thing,” he says with a crooked grin on his face.

Some of the students snicker.

James knows he shouldn't talk to his professor that way, but his bratty attitude that he worked so hard on to leave behind him in high school can't help but resurface in Mr. Stebbins’ presence. Everything about him infuriates him; from the way he speaks as if it were an honour to be in his presence, to his growing baldness and his twitchy mustache. It sends him through the roof.

“Well, I see that you don't know the answer to what I'm asking, given your childish answer,” he says straightening out the sleeves of his blazer.

James peers through his notes quickly and tries to decipher his scribbles.

“As I was saying - ”

“Actually -” James says putting his hand up. “- if my notes are correct, which I hope they are because I've been writing down what you've been saying, the main common characteristic between Egyptian and Mesopotamian art is that both of them are monumental, because they're meant to suggest - rather boldly might I add - power and authority. But there is one small difference. Egyptian art represents the power of divinities, while Mesopotamian, that of the leaders.”

He finishes his answer by dropping his paper on the desk and smiling at him. Mr. Stebbins’ mustache twitches.

“Very well.”

He turns towards the rest of the class and resumes as if nothing had happened, ignoring James until the end.

∞

“That was absolutely wicked, mate. Probably the best practice we’ve had this season,” Sirius says flinging his sports bag onto his shoulder.

James nods vaguely and they walk out of the locker rooms, their feet taking them, past the Art History department, through the Forbidden Forest, knowing that it’s the fastest way to their flat. James only half listens to Sirius’ chatter, his mind too enthralled by his own thoughts.

“And that’s when I popped down on one knee and asked Flitwick to marry me. He said yes! We’re getting married January seventh. A snowy wedding! Can you imagine?” Sirius says practically jumping on his toes.

James turns to him, his eyes wide open with incomprehension.

“Are you off your rocker?”

“Look at that! You’re actually listening.”

“I’m sorry! I just can’t stop thinking about her. I haven’t seen her in two days and she’s not answering any of my calls.”

“Hm, I wonder who you could be talking about… My, my, this is a hard one.”

“I’m serious! I’m really worried about her.”

“Mate, get your shit together. She’s probably too busy studying and forgot to call you back.”

“I dunno. Could be. But if that were the case, why hasn’t she called me? I could look after Harry while she finishes her work.”

“Because you’ve got work to do on your own! You’ve got football practice three to four times a week! You’ve got mates to hang out with!”

“Yeah, I dunno,” he says stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking at the ground. “I still think it’s fishy.”

“Go to her flat and see what’s up then. Actually, no. I can get used to this absent-minded version of you. It’s not everyday that I see get you knocked to the floor by a ball to the head.”

“Prick,” he says nudging him in the shoulder. “Also, I didn't know you had a thing for Flitwick.”

“Oh, my love for him has never been a secret. I might even go through with that wedding proposal. You know, for science.”

∞

James rubs his eyes as he tries to chase the sleep out of them, and lets his head fall on his desk. He sighs.

He's been trying to start McGonagall’s essay for the past hour, but his words won’t commit to paper as easy as they usually do, for every time he lets his mind relax, his thoughts rush back to Lily. Why should he care about if he believes Jane Austen to have either a conservative or radical approach to the issue of class in Pride and Prejudice (© gradesaver.com) when he hasn’t heard from Lily in three days?

He checks his watch. 22:27. It's still fairly early, but he might as well call it a day and try finishing his essay tomorrow, so he unlocks his phone hoping to see a reply from Lily. He's answered with disappointment. Maybe he should drop by her place tomorrow to check up on her, as Sirius suggested. But what if she's trying to cut him off? What if she’s seen those missed calls and just chosen to ignore them? The last thing she would want is for him to be waiting at her door.

As if it had been aware of his hesitation, Hot Mama pops on his screen and his phone starts vibrating. She's calling him; actually calling him.

“Yes?” he answers before the first ring has the time to end.

“James?”

“Yes. Thank god! I've been trying to call you for days! Where have you been?”

“James, can you come? Please.”

James freezes. Lily has never asked for his help before. Her voice sounds wrong and shaky and he can almost see trembling fingers holding up her phone.

“I'm on my way.”

He hangs up and practically falls out of his chair as he jumps for the first pair of shoes he can find. He grabs some money, his phone and his keys and he's out the door.

∞

James knocks on the door and Harry’s cries reach his ears before it flies open, Lily standing in the doorway as she bounces a howling Harry on her hip, and her tear-stricken face practically breaks at the sight of him.

Here's the boy who's never asked anything of her. The boy who helps them out of the pure goodness of his heart and who never expects anything in return. The boy who just gives and keeps giving.

In this moment, the only thing Lily wishes is to forget about everything. She wants James to hold her until there are no more tears left inside of her to cry, no more knots to break and let go of. She wants things to be taken care of for her. She doesn't want to care anymore.

But she can't let that happen, so she gets a hold of herself and straightens up.

“I'm sorry I called you this late, but I have a test tomorrow which is worth a huge part of my grade and I can't screw it up, I can't fuck it up and Harry won't stop crying! I've been trying to put him to bed, but he won't sleep, he won't eat, he won't watch cartoons and he just won't stop crying and this test is super important and I - I just don't know what to do!” Her voice breaks. “I can't - ”

“Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, it's okay,” he says with the most soothing voice he can manage, as she wipes the tears under her eyes. “Here, I'll take Harry.”

“I'm so useless. I can't even take care of my own son without needing help!” she says looking down, her arms crossed across her chest. “I'm a useless mum.”

“Hey, listen to me,” he says squeezing her shoulder. “You're not a bad mom. You’re an excellent one, and Harry is the luckiest baby ever to have you, but everyone has their limits, okay? Even the best mums.”

Lily sniffs her nose and nods numbly.

“Now. I'm gonna try to calm Harry down and you should probably try to get some rest - ”

“No! I have to study for this test!”

“Fine, then study for your test. But wash your face first, maybe even take a shower, have a cup of hot chocolate, listen to a song you like, it'll make you feel better.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Do you want to study in the living room or bedroom?”

“Bedroom. I'll take Harry's crib out for you.”

Her tone is dry and she doesn't look up from the floor, before she goes and fetch it.

Once Harry's bed is pushed into the living room and Lily is settled at her desk, James tackles on the task of calming Harry down. He tries everything - reading to him, showing him pictures, singing songs - but nothing seems to work. Harry's face is now so red that James thinks it might explode like a ticking bomb. He doesn't understand how Lily can study in these conditions, with the air so hot it seems like the walls are closing up on you and Harry’s wailing pounding on your temples like hammers.

In the end it's walking around the room that does it. He gently bounces him in his arms and hums to him and, soon enough, Harry's head gradually leans into his shoulder, his mouth open, but no sound comes out; only drool dampening James’ shirt.

James is shocked at the sudden absence of noise; everything seems overly still, almost dead, if not for Harry's slow and regular breathing. It's beautiful.

He can't believe it. He actually did it. He's so happy he could scream if it wasn't for the baby sleeping in his arms, so he casually punches the air instead while mouthing his celebration. He lays him gently in his crib and lets himself fall into the sofa, his brain so clouded with exhaustion that he's ready to hibernate for twelve months straight. But he remembers Lily is still studying in her room and in half a second he's up, any desire of sleeping having been cleared from his head. He tiptoes to the room and knocks on the door softly, but there is no answer, so he cracks it open.

A tangle of deep red hair spreads out on the wooden desk, Lily's face pressed against the opened pages of her book where a coloured and complicated graph is shown. Her back expands slightly as she breaths in, then out.

James is astounded at how young she looks. Twenty one. Not a child anymore and barely an adult. Just twenty one. She doesn't look like a single mother only just out of her teenage years, juggling finishing school and raising a baby. Twenty one, like him.

He slips one arm under her knees and one around her shoulders, hoping that she sleeps like a rock. She grumbles softly in his arms and her arms snake themselves around his neck instinctively, her head resting on his chest. He places her on the bed and pulls the covers up, then looks at her one last time, brushing her hair out of her face with his fingertips, before walking out and settling for the couch. He falls asleep immediately as if it were the most comfortable bed in the world.

∞

When Lily wakes up, despite the annoying beeping of the alarm clock drilling into her skull, she feels more rested than she has in a while. She stretches and, as her fingers bump into her pillow, she realises she's in her bed. She rubs her eyes, her eyelids feeling lighter than they have in weeks, then props herself on her elbows, and, at the sight of her open chemistry book on her desk, last night’s events push back into her sleep-fogged mind. James must have carried her to her bed. She can't help colour rushing to her cheeks at the thought of him picking her up and tucking her into bed, and a surge of gratitude flows in her chest; not just for making sure she slept well, but for everything else too.

She gets up and walks out of the room to find James, head resting on his palm while he watches over Harry playing with his favourite doll, looking completely disheveled with his droopy eyes and his slept-in hair, flat at the top, completely unruly on the sides, but adorable nonetheless. She smiles to herself. This is a sight she could get used waking up to.

James hears her coming in and props his head up.

“Morning. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good. I almost forgot what it's like to sleep in a bed,” she says stretching her back.

James’ eye twitches, which she assumes is from tiredness.

“When's your test?” he says ignoring her comment.

“11 a.m.”

She walks to Harry and presses a kiss to his forehead, then sits down on the couch. They sit next to each other in silence, watching a sleepy Harry who mumbles and talks to himself, oblivious to the grown ups watching him as only a baby can be.

Lily wants to hold James’ hand. She wants to lay her head on his shoulder while he wraps his arms around her. She wants to be held by him more than anything she's ever wanted; but she won't let herself do that, so instead she thanks him. He nods.

“Anytime.”

“I wouldn't have minded you sleeping in the bed by the way. It's big enough for both of us and the couch doesn't look to comfy.”

He shrugs.

“Don't you have any morning classes?” she says trying not to get frustrated by his lack of responsiveness.

“Yeah, I missed them already.”

Lily straightens up.

“Wait, while I was asleep?”

“Yeah, but it's fine, really.”

“You should have woken me up!”

“It's fine. It's an 8 a.m. class. I don't go that often,” he says trying to sound lighthearted.

“I don't want you to do that, James.”

“Do what?”

“Skip classes to babysit Harry.”

“It was just this one time!”

Lily scoffs.

“You think I haven't noticed how much time you spend here? You think I'm stupid enough to not know how much work you also have?”

James leans back on the couch and puts his hands behind his head.

“Maybe I'm just brilliant and know everything already.”

“I'm serious, James. I don't want to have to depend on you. God, it was so stupid of me to call you last night,” she says dragging her hand down her face. “You shouldn't have dropped whatever you were doing last night to come!”

“I wasn't doing anything!”

Lily just glares at him and he starts to sing I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends under his breath, trying to diffuse the tension.

“James - ”

“A little help doesn't hurt from time to time. And I don't mind babysitting Harry.”

“I've got a babysitter for that.”

“Then why didn't you call her yesterday instead of me?”

James feels a twist of guilt at his gut for bringing this up.

“Well maybe I will next time.”

“And how will you pay for it, may I ask?”

“I'll get a job,” she says matter-of-factly.

“The only possible way you can get a job is if you stop sleeping altogether which you already do little of.”

Lily looks like she's about to interrupt him, but he cuts her off.

“You know I wouldn't mind lending you some money.”

Lily springs up.

“I don't need your money! I don't want your charity!” she yells, her fists clenched. “I'm perfectly fine without it! I can work for things myself!”

“I never said you couldn't!”

“You just did!”

“You’re reading what I’m saying wrong.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Listen, - ”

She sighs.

“No, James, you listen. I’m sorry,” she says sitting back down. James looks at her, a concerned crease between his brows. “You’ve been nothing, but incredibly nice to me and I’m being a complete arse. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It happens to all of us,” he says with a carefree shrug. “Don’t think you’re so special that you’re the only person capable of being an arse.”

“It doesn’t seem to happen to you.”

“That’s just because I’m the most perfect man in the world. Mothers adore me. They all wish I was either their son or their son-in-law.”

Lily chuckles in spite of her temper.

∞

James unlocks the door to his flat and curses Sirius for thinking big panel windows were a good idea as the gloomy, but blinding, light pours in and maims his sleep-deprived eyes. He covers them with his hand and lumbers through the living room, managing to walk into what little furniture they have. Finally, his shins bump into the couch and he lets himself fall onto it.

“Look at what the cat dragged in!” Sirius says, walking out of the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers, a few strands of hair falling casually out of his bun, and holding a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You've got some explaining to do, young boy. I don't think Moony, Wormtail and I fancy your unexpected disappearances. We've been feeling rather neglected.”

“Spent the night at Lily’s,” he says with a dramatic sigh.

“Did you hear that lads! He said he spent the night at Lily’s!” Sirius says, shouting towards the kitchen and gesticulating which makes his milk spill. “That makes me feel loads better.”

Remus and Peter’s heads pop out of the doorframe almost immediately.

“Well, that explains his face. Don't take his personally, but you look like shit, mate,” Remus says through a mouthful of croissant.

“I do take it personally,” James says his voice muffled against the couch.

Sirius gives him a sly wink.

“Didn't come around too much sleeping, did ya?”

“I hope you were quiet at least. You know for the baby’s sake,” Peter says, his lips curling.

“It wasn't like that!”

“Of course it wasn't,” the three of them say in unison, rolling their eyes.

“I'm serious!” he says, his head shooting up. “She called me because she had to study for a test and needed help with Harry and then I just stayed the night.”

“Of course he did,” Sirius says.

“Perfect little daddy he is,” Peter adds.

“Hey, if you're planning on running away with this girl to play happy family, mind giving us a couple days’ notice? Not that we'd care about not seeing you anymore, it's just so we have enough time to get another rich flatmate,” Remus says buttering his croissant excessively.

“Har, har.”

“Aw, come on, don't be sore about it. We actually miss you loads when you spend all day at her place.”

“Don't tell him that, it'll go to his head,” comes Sirius’ disembodied voice from the bathroom.

“I'm not listening to any of you anymore,” James says covering his ears with cushions.

“Now, now don't get all upset,” Peter says playing mother hen and covering him with a blanket which he can't help snuggling into. “Poor boy needs his beauty sleep. Otherwise, look at what happens to his hair. It's a mess.”

“Not listening!”

They continue picking on him for a few minutes which he tries to block out as best he can by singing nursery rhymes offensively loud. Once they get bored and move on to another game, James realises that he has actually missed them and how little he has seen them these couple of weeks; at lunch time, when he wasn’t with Lily, in the afternoons, when he wasn’t at Lily’s, and at night, which he had yesterday spent at Lily's. Although he doesn't want to admit it, maybe she had a point. He was neglecting his life for her.

It’s not completely of his own accord but, after that day, he starts spending less time at her place because, regardless of having made up after their little fight, Lily had really meant what she had said. She gradually starts to limit the time he spends at their flat. Although at first he assumes it's because she wants to spend time alone with Harry, as the days go by her excuses to not have him over get weaker and less believable.

“I made brussel sprouts last night and it stunk up the whole flat.”

Replaying what she told him earlier that day, James scoffs with disdain, blowing his fringe out of his face. He knows that she's doing it for him, so he can spend his time with his friends or getting ahead of his workload, and sure, a bit more of spare time is nice, but he isn't sure he likes it better. Nowadays, two or three days might pass between each visit he pays them. Yes, he still messages Lily as much as he can, but not seeing her almost everyday isn't the same. And he barely sees the little boy. He misses them.

As the days go by, autumn settles into winter and covers the town with a white coat which sends everyone into a holiday frenzy as colourful lights twinkle in every window, mistletoe is hung in every corner and Christmas carols get stuck in people's heads on hours end; everyone except Sirius, that is. He hates holidays, he says lying through his teeth. And joy, and kittens, and happiness and anything pure, Peter adds, personally offended when he comes back from his temporary job where the dress code is a full Santa suit.

Term ends one week before Christmas Eve and soon enough students start packing their bags and hopping on trains to visit their families, which sinks the campus into a restful state, the snow drowning out what little sound there is. Remus, Peter and Sirius, being part of that first shift of students, take a train to the Pettigrew's, which is where the four of them have been spending their last couple of Christmas holidays since James’ parents died. However, he decides to stay back and spend a few days with Lily all to himself since Harry isn't with her. Some relatives of hers who were on their way to her hometown to spend the holidays passed near Hogwarts and took the baby to his grandparents.

Lily, instead of relishing of a few days of freedom, takes up the opportunity to sign up for a week job at the library. But even though she does work full days, it's refreshing to spend time with her when she doesn't have to worry about Harry or school. James can sometimes almost catch a glimpse of what she used to be before she got pregnant. Lively, carefree, teasing. Young.

On his last couple of day on campus, he invites her to dinner with him.

“Dinner? Where?”

“Just this place I know.”

“What's the dress code?”

“Casual is fine. Oh, and I'll pay. As a Christmas gift,” he adds seeing that she's about to protest.

“But I haven't bought you anything for Christmas!”

“You don't have to. Please just let me do this. It's Christmas!”

James juts his bottom lip out and she looks at him for a minute, then sighs.

“Fine, fine. Okay. You're worse than Harry when you do that.”

James grins.

“Pick you up at seven?”

∞

Friday. Seven p.m. He knocks on the door and after a few seconds it flies open.

“I thought you said casual was fine!” Lily says before he has the time to say hello.

“I did!”

“But you look nice!”

“I always look nice,” he says strutting into her flat, making a show of his outfit.

He's wearing a light blue dress shirt that hugs his chest and shoulders nicely, some casual, but well-fitted trousers and ankle wingtip boots, his peacoat and dark blue scarf thrown over his shoulder; even his hair looks particularly nice, not messy, but tousled.

“Give me a minute,” she says running into her room.

She slips out of her originally beige jumper which has lost its colour from all the times Harry has burped, drooled and vomited on it, pulls out her fanciest garment , which is a deep green cashmere jumper that she never wears, then slips into a pair of black jeans and straps on her tall black boots. She looks into her closet mirror, pulling at her sleeves and decides to twist her hair into a low bun, pulling some strands of hair out of it to frame her face. It’ll have to do. She slips on her coat, flings her purse on her shoulder and walks into the living room.

“You look nice,” James says getting up from the couch.

“Oh, shut it,” she says hoping that a blush doesn't appear on her cheeks.

“Wait, there's something - ”

“What?” she says her hands flying to her face, fearing she has a booger in her nose.

He doesn't say anything. He takes his scarf and wraps it around her neck, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“There,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips, lightly tugging at the scarf, causing her to take a step forward. “Don't want you catching a cold.”

“You sound like my mother,” she jokes, trying to hide the fact that her breath has caught in her throat.

“Well, someone has to take care of you.”

She rolls her eyes, but lets the comment pass.

“What about your neck?”

“I can put the sides of my coat up. Now - ” he says pulling up his arm and bowing slightly. “ - m’lady.”

She follows his antics and puts her arm through his.

“M’lord.”

And they're out the door.

They walk into a nice, low-lit restaurant and a waiter ushers them to a table covered with white linen; they follow, their heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. They sit down and soon enough their drinks are written down and menus typed in flowery, but legible writing are handed to them. Lily opens hers and her brow immediately creases with suspicion.

“Where are the prices?”

“Your menu doesn't show them,” he says scratching his neck.

“Oh, please, James,” she says slamming it shut. “We're not in the nineteen-fifties.”

“I just want you to order what you want without worrying about the price.”

“Worry about the price? If you're paying I just want to make sure I'm ordering the most expensive dish. How's their lobster?” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Not as good as their filet mignon.”

James chuckles and shakes his head while Lily calls the waiter and asks for another menu.

“Ooooh, twenty pounds. Now that's a juicy piece of steak, isn't it?” she says her eyes gleaming at him with mischief over the brim of her new and improved menu.

James rakes his teeth over his lips, trying to bite his smile away.

They order and their conversation flows all throughout the dinner, only slowing down once their entrees arrive, and between the eating, teasing and laughing, they barely have time to catch a breath.

“I can't believe you had Sprite with your filet mignon,” James says once she takes the last bite out of her plate, his own being empty. “You know a little bit of red wine would do wonders to it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t drink alcohol. Haven’t since the day I found out I was pregnant,” she says her mouth stretching into a line. “I was drunk off my arse the night I got pregnant.”

“Oh, I didn't - ” he says stumbling on his words.

“Would you like some dessert?” says the waiter who's just arrived at their table.

Saved by the bell.

Lily smirks, looking at James from the corner of her eyes and says,

“Gladly.”

The waiter whips out two menus, clears the table and leaves. Lily peers over the dessert list, humming innocently and often looking up at James to tease him.

“I think I'll have…” she says once the waiter comes back, her voice thick with fake hesitation. “The triple chocolate cake.”

“Interesting choice,” James says.

“And you, sir?” the waiter says turning to him.

“Nothing, thank you.”

“I'm not sharing my cake with you,” Lily says once it arrives.

“I didn't say anything.”

“But you were getting ideas,” she says, her eyes narrowing to slits.

She eats away, making a show of groaning at each bite and dramatically looking up at the ceiling as if thanking the gods for whoever had made the cake. James looks at her through it all, his chin resting on his palm, not saying anything, the spark in his eyes and the half smile on his face speaking enough on his behalf.

Lily heaves out a big sigh.

“Fine,” she says pushing the plate toward him as a knight would drop her sword, accepting her defeat. “You can have some. Just stop looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“I wasn't looking at you with puppy dog eyes!” he says, picking up the spoon nonetheless.

“Well, you were looking at me weird.”

They fall into silence for the first time during the whole evening and Lily takes the opportunity to reach under the table for her purse and pull out a shiny red paper bag out of it, then settling it on the table.

“What's this?” James says looking up at it.

She leans back into her chair and crosses her arms.

“Your Christmas present,” she says nodding at it.

James eyes’ widen.

“You didn't have to do that,” he says wiping his mouth on the napkin.

“Don't thank me yet and open it.”

He unfolds the wrapping paper and pulls out a pair of antlers, the small bells hanging on them chiming with glee . He looks back at her, his face torn between confusion and amusement.

“I want you to wear them all day on Christmas Day, in and outdoors, and send me a picture of yourself while doing it.”

“Easy.”

“Look into the bag.”

He pulls out a round red nose with a string attached to it.

“That too.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“I'll do it. But I think you underestimate me here, Evans. I've been seen in much more an embarrassing attire.”

“Like what?”

“Like that time Sirius, Peter, Remus and I were invited to a fancy dress party and Sirius thought it was a good idea if he went as Frank N. Furter and I as Rocky.”

“Sounds like a hell of a party,” she says trying not to think about how appealing the view of him in nothing but the tight golden shorts must have been.

“Oh, it was. And if I remember correctly I think Sirius and I lost a bet and were forced to kiss. Not that it would have been the first time.”

She throws her head back with laughter.

“I’ve got to say I'm not entirely surprised.”

“Well, I’m not complaining, Sirius is a handsome bloke. He's got boys and girls fawning over him.”

“Is that a bit of jealousy I'm sensing?”

“Never.”

Once the bill is payed and the waiter tipped, they decide to walk instead of hauling a taxi despite the stormy weather, the restaurant not being too far away from Lily's flat. Their shoes leave footprints in the fresh layer of snow, a crunching sound accompanying each step, while their bare hands redden from the biting cold; but they let them hang at their sides, not bothering to put gloves on or stuff them in their pockets, and their fingers brush against one another.

They arrive in front of her door and Lily falters when reaching for her key, hesitation settling itself into her face. She could invite him to go inside, like she has hundreds of times before, but this time she feels that something is different and she's not sure of what could happen next. Actually, she is sure. They would kiss; and one item of clothing would feel like one too many, and then thing would lead to another and he would probably end up spending the night at her flat. Or at least that's what she hopes that would happen. But this is her only friend standing in front of her looking at her with uncertain eagerness in his eyes which looks adorable on him, but makes things so much harder, and she doesn't want to do anything that would ruin what they have. She doesn't want to go back to the way things were before meeting him.

James reads this on her face and saves her from having to say anything. He opens his arms to her and she embraces them gladly, grateful for the warmth that surrounds her when she settles her head on his chest. In that moment she almost cracks; almost invites him to stay the night, because what could be better than falling asleep in these arms so familiar it seems she's known them her whole life, her head tucked under his chin, while the rise and fall of his chest cradles her?

“What time is your train tomorrow?” she says, her voice muffled against his chest.

“8 a.m.”

His breath tickles the top of her head and she can hear his voice vibrating in his rib cage like a small bee.

“You shouldn't go to bed too late then.”

“Yeah. I should probably go soon,” he says softly.

Stay .

But she doesn't say it out loud. She lets go of him begrudgingly and it might as well take every ounce of willpower she has in herself.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, his voice forming a cloud of steam.

“Merry Christmas. Don't forget the picture.”

The corners of his mouth shoot up and she can't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.

So she stands on her tiptoes and does it.

But before he has the time to react she's said goodbye and gone inside, leaving him with a lingering feeling at the corner of his mouth. It drops slightly and he shakes his head, then reaches in the inside of his coat, pulling out a letter. After placing it on her doormat, he rings the bell and exits her building into the cold night.

When Lily hears the doorbell she's barely had the time to take her coat off, but has already regretted her impulsive act about a thousand times. She staggers to the door, afraid she'll have to give him an explanation, but when she opens it there isn't a single person standing on the doormat, but an envelope instead; and it’s addressed to her, her name written on it with James’ neat handwriting. She bends down and opens it.

My Dearest Lily,

I know I said that this dinner would be your Christmas present but, if I have to be completely honest with you, it was all a ruse to be able to buy you dinner, and buy myself time to think of an actual gift. Indeed, I've been racking my brain these last few days to try and figure out what Lily Evans would want for Christmas, and today, it struck me. Time. That's what Lily Evans wants.

And Time I shall give you…

I looked up the average wage of a babysitter in England and I am pleased to tell you that in this envelope you will find enough money for a full day’s worth of babysitting, that is, twenty-four hours.

I know what you're thinking; I know that you don't want my charity, but this isn't it, for it is a Christmas present and it would be extremely rude to give it back.

Now Lily Evans is free to make use of these hours however and whenever she pleases, but I would want to inform her that I would be more than happy to spend more than a great deal of them in her presence.

Merry Christmas!

With love,

James

When Lily finishes reading it, tears rush to her eyes and she's not sure if those are of joy, sadness, or simple exhaustion.

Maybe a little bit everything.

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