How Do You Like Your Eggs? (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dogdaysofsummer Day 3)
Jul. 4th, 2006 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosie_ruesTitle: How Do You Like Your Eggs?
Rating: PG
Prompt: breakfast
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sirius, Remus, Peter. A greasy spoon in Scunthorpe. 1980.
“Bloody good sausage, this,” Peter said, his mouth full.
Sirius scowled down at The Sun, where today’s topless model was now speckled with rat spittle, and snorted.
“It’s Lincolnshire sausage, that’s why,” Remus said, trying to scoop up runny egg with his toast.
Sirius went back to separating his baked beans with his fork, as Peter said dubiously, “Are we in Lincolnshire?”
“Scunthorpe is in Lincolnshire, yes,” Remus said primly, licking toast crumbs off his fingers.
Sirius speared a single baked bean, and sucked it off the end of his fork. He saw Remus’ fingers twitch. Hah.
“And Lincolnshire sausages are?”
“Famous,” Remus said firmly. Sirius ate another baked bean. “All the local butchers have their own secret recipes, and they compete to make the best sausages.”
Peter put his fork down. Sirius paused with a bean between his lips.
“You know this?” Peter said incredulously.
Remus shuffled back into the seat and muttered, “It’s written on the back of the menu.”
Peter sighed with relief and went back to his breakfast. His plate was ringed with the salt and pepper, and two squirty bottles of tomato sauce, like a defensive wall. Sirius flicked one with the tip of his finger and watched gleefully as it descended towards Peter’s mushrooms, swimming in their pool of ketchup.
Remus caught it and gave him a Look (it was undeniably a capitalised Look).
“Wanker,” Peter said. “If you’re not eating your sausage, can I have it?”
“I’m saving it,” Sirius said and went back to his baked beans, working through them one by one, staring around the greasy spoon with interest. All the tables were covered in chipped plastic, and the red fake-leather on the seats was torn.
He wondered what was in the yellow squirty bottle, and whether Pete would like some.
“Put the mustard down,” Remus said as he reached out.
Sirius sent him a full-force stare of infinite reproach. Remus pursed his lips. Sirius ate another baked bean, slurping it slowly off the fork, and then licking his lips. Remus twitched.
“Think she’s had it yet?” Peter asked.
“Not due until the start of August,” Remus said wearily. Sirius had lost count of how many times they’d had this conversation overnight.
“Pah,” Peter said, spraying the paper again. “Babies come early all the time. Everyone knows that.”
“Look what you’ve done to the lovely Linda,” Sirius said, picking at a piece of bacon for a change. Besmirched.”
They all looked down at the lovely Linda, 21, who hailed from Skegness and hand-reared Dalmatian puppies.
“Gives her freckles,” Peter said. “I like freckles.”
“I can’t believe I know either of you,” Remus muttered. “We’re supposed to be looking for Muggle awareness of attacks.”
“Bet you old Snivellus would pay money to attack the lovely Linda,” Sirius said, sniggering.
He got another Look.
Unrepentant, he reached over and stole Remus’ tomato, despite the fact his own still lay on his plate.
“Will you cut it out?” Remus hissed.
Hah. Victory! The unflappable was flapping. Sirius wrapped his tongue around the tomato and drew it into his mouth, letting his lashes dip.
“Cut what out?” he asked when he was done.
“You know perfectly well what!” Remus snapped.
“Remind me,” he said, spearing a mushroom. The butter had slipped off his toast and coated it, and he brushed it against his lips, watching Remus shiver.
“You’re doing that thing with the baked beans!”
“Do you two want some private time?” Peter enquired, crunching his toast.
Remus retreated, murmuring, “No, that’s alright, cheers mate.”
Sirius glared at them both, and shoved to his feet. He didn’t bother looking back as he stalked out of the café and along the grubby street. Fucking Scunthorpe. Fucking Lincolnshire. Fucking Remus Lupin pretending to be prim.
Fucking James. Fucking Peter. Fucking war.
He found an alley, and stormed down it, trying not to breathe too hard. It was already hot, and the air was so thick that every stink and scent clung close to the ground.
He came out in a gravelly car park behind a row of shops. Pissed off by the very touch of the air, he slumped back against the wall, and began to fish through his pockets for a cigarette.
He tensed at the sound of footsteps on the gravel and then grinned as Remus came round the corner.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Remus demanded.
Sirius shrugged. “Nothing. Everything.”
Remus muttered a Disillusionment Charm, and Sirius’ spirits lifted. He was either about to get punched or kissed and either would be better than this endless waiting for nothing. It wasn’t that he wanted a Death Eater attack – he had some decency. He was just sick of doing nothing.
“You,” Remus said, moving in, “have spent the entire morning being a complete and utter wanker.”
“I’m not a wanker,” Sirius said happily, wrapping his hand around Remus’ hip. “Got you for that.”
Remus rolled his eyes and nudged closer. “And for this my breakfast is getting cold?”
“I’ll warm your sausage up for you, Moony,” Sirius said, working his fingers under Remus’ shirt.
“Oh, good God,” Remus said weakly, and Sirius smirked. Odd bloke, that Remus Lupin. You could be having a perfectly reasonable conversation with him, and then he’d just start stuttering and muttering for no reason. Anyone would think-
His line of speculation was cut off when Remus grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back against the wall and kissed him until he was too weak-kneed to smirk.
Sussex Essex Lincolnshire
Rating: PG
Prompt: breakfast
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Sirius, Remus, Peter. A greasy spoon in Scunthorpe. 1980.
“Bloody good sausage, this,” Peter said, his mouth full.
Sirius scowled down at The Sun, where today’s topless model was now speckled with rat spittle, and snorted.
“It’s Lincolnshire sausage, that’s why,” Remus said, trying to scoop up runny egg with his toast.
Sirius went back to separating his baked beans with his fork, as Peter said dubiously, “Are we in Lincolnshire?”
“Scunthorpe is in Lincolnshire, yes,” Remus said primly, licking toast crumbs off his fingers.
Sirius speared a single baked bean, and sucked it off the end of his fork. He saw Remus’ fingers twitch. Hah.
“And Lincolnshire sausages are?”
“Famous,” Remus said firmly. Sirius ate another baked bean. “All the local butchers have their own secret recipes, and they compete to make the best sausages.”
Peter put his fork down. Sirius paused with a bean between his lips.
“You know this?” Peter said incredulously.
Remus shuffled back into the seat and muttered, “It’s written on the back of the menu.”
Peter sighed with relief and went back to his breakfast. His plate was ringed with the salt and pepper, and two squirty bottles of tomato sauce, like a defensive wall. Sirius flicked one with the tip of his finger and watched gleefully as it descended towards Peter’s mushrooms, swimming in their pool of ketchup.
Remus caught it and gave him a Look (it was undeniably a capitalised Look).
“Wanker,” Peter said. “If you’re not eating your sausage, can I have it?”
“I’m saving it,” Sirius said and went back to his baked beans, working through them one by one, staring around the greasy spoon with interest. All the tables were covered in chipped plastic, and the red fake-leather on the seats was torn.
He wondered what was in the yellow squirty bottle, and whether Pete would like some.
“Put the mustard down,” Remus said as he reached out.
Sirius sent him a full-force stare of infinite reproach. Remus pursed his lips. Sirius ate another baked bean, slurping it slowly off the fork, and then licking his lips. Remus twitched.
“Think she’s had it yet?” Peter asked.
“Not due until the start of August,” Remus said wearily. Sirius had lost count of how many times they’d had this conversation overnight.
“Pah,” Peter said, spraying the paper again. “Babies come early all the time. Everyone knows that.”
“Look what you’ve done to the lovely Linda,” Sirius said, picking at a piece of bacon for a change. Besmirched.”
They all looked down at the lovely Linda, 21, who hailed from Skegness and hand-reared Dalmatian puppies.
“Gives her freckles,” Peter said. “I like freckles.”
“I can’t believe I know either of you,” Remus muttered. “We’re supposed to be looking for Muggle awareness of attacks.”
“Bet you old Snivellus would pay money to attack the lovely Linda,” Sirius said, sniggering.
He got another Look.
Unrepentant, he reached over and stole Remus’ tomato, despite the fact his own still lay on his plate.
“Will you cut it out?” Remus hissed.
Hah. Victory! The unflappable was flapping. Sirius wrapped his tongue around the tomato and drew it into his mouth, letting his lashes dip.
“Cut what out?” he asked when he was done.
“You know perfectly well what!” Remus snapped.
“Remind me,” he said, spearing a mushroom. The butter had slipped off his toast and coated it, and he brushed it against his lips, watching Remus shiver.
“You’re doing that thing with the baked beans!”
“Do you two want some private time?” Peter enquired, crunching his toast.
Remus retreated, murmuring, “No, that’s alright, cheers mate.”
Sirius glared at them both, and shoved to his feet. He didn’t bother looking back as he stalked out of the café and along the grubby street. Fucking Scunthorpe. Fucking Lincolnshire. Fucking Remus Lupin pretending to be prim.
Fucking James. Fucking Peter. Fucking war.
He found an alley, and stormed down it, trying not to breathe too hard. It was already hot, and the air was so thick that every stink and scent clung close to the ground.
He came out in a gravelly car park behind a row of shops. Pissed off by the very touch of the air, he slumped back against the wall, and began to fish through his pockets for a cigarette.
He tensed at the sound of footsteps on the gravel and then grinned as Remus came round the corner.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Remus demanded.
Sirius shrugged. “Nothing. Everything.”
Remus muttered a Disillusionment Charm, and Sirius’ spirits lifted. He was either about to get punched or kissed and either would be better than this endless waiting for nothing. It wasn’t that he wanted a Death Eater attack – he had some decency. He was just sick of doing nothing.
“You,” Remus said, moving in, “have spent the entire morning being a complete and utter wanker.”
“I’m not a wanker,” Sirius said happily, wrapping his hand around Remus’ hip. “Got you for that.”
Remus rolled his eyes and nudged closer. “And for this my breakfast is getting cold?”
“I’ll warm your sausage up for you, Moony,” Sirius said, working his fingers under Remus’ shirt.
“Oh, good God,” Remus said weakly, and Sirius smirked. Odd bloke, that Remus Lupin. You could be having a perfectly reasonable conversation with him, and then he’d just start stuttering and muttering for no reason. Anyone would think-
His line of speculation was cut off when Remus grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back against the wall and kissed him until he was too weak-kneed to smirk.
Sussex Essex Lincolnshire
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:54 pm (UTC)Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:55 pm (UTC)Thanks for the comment.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:28 pm (UTC)"I'll warm your sausage up for you, Moony,"/i>
Ohhhh, Sirius. It's a pun too good and cheesy to let pass by, really.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 10:59 pm (UTC)There's some innuendo which just cannot be resisted.
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 11:24 pm (UTC)A boy after my own heart. There are many things to be learned by reading the back of the menu.
This was utterly adorable, from the first line to the last. Adorable, I tell thee. But Lincolnshire loses, every time. Yorkshire pride!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 11:53 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it. They should get to Yorkshire at some point ^_^
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-04 11:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 12:03 am (UTC)Luckily I've only lived in Yorkshire, the Isle of Wight and Warwickshire. I only intend on pleasuring them with Yorkshire and maybe Warwickshire. The Isle of Wight is a no-no, given that I hated it and would never subject them to it. Yorkshire, however, has my heart as the county I was born in, grew up in, and have returned to at every available point.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 03:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 11:08 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it. Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-05 11:12 pm (UTC)I love writing Sirius when he deliberately sets out to be annoying. The potential for mayhem is so great.
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 09:58 am (UTC)As others have pointed out, the banter is just great.
I also have a soft spot for a petulent Sirius, so this made reading this great fun.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 10:16 am (UTC)Thanks for the comment.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 07:37 pm (UTC)*snort* How Sirius can be so adorable and such a pain in the ass at the same time is beyond me. I love the bantering and the undercurrent of tension. The end is just perfect. Very nicely done!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-06 08:22 pm (UTC)Thanks for the comment :) I'm glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 10:20 pm (UTC)I just wanted to say that I bitterly resent this brilliant story for making me crave Lincolnshire sausages (which were my favorites!) when I'm on the wrong side of the Atlantic to obtain them.
And yet, the story remains brilliant.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 10:24 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it, despite the sausage cravings.
Thanks for the comment ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-06 02:37 am (UTC)