They Are So Disgustingly In Love With Each Other They Just Dont Know It Yet

They are so disgustingly in love with each other they just don’t know it yet

regulus has to jump on the counters to get things out of the cabinets

james puts them up high on purpose to make him ask for help but he’d rather just climb

James: What is love?

Peter: An emotional minefield.

Remus: A neurochemical reaction.

Sirius: Baby don't hurt me.

@jilymicrofics july 28: stargaze

“And that one?”

“Cassiopeia,” James answers immediately.

Lily steals another secret glance at him, absolutely captivated by how the nearly full moon, still two nights away, reflects off his glasses, giving his hazel eyes a soft, glowing warmth. The interplay of light and shadow on his face reveals the gentle lines of his features and that ridiculous mop of hair that falls carelessly across his forehead. He looks particularly beautiful like this and she’s just on the verge of telling him.

“That’s Greek as well, yeah?” she asks.

He nods, the movement causing his hair to brush against the grass of the Quidditch pitch. “Cursed by Apollo,” he says, and Lily almost, almost, almost laughs, but she manages to keep it together, instead murmuring a vague, “Oh wow.”

James takes it as encouragement to continue. “She rejected him, so he gave her the gift of prophecy, with the cursed exception that no one would ever believe her.”

“He sounds like the compassionate sort of god I’d like to worship,” she snorts.

James laughs, and the movement causes the back of his hand to graze hers in the space on the grass between them. Lily's breath catches, wondering if this fleeting touch will be the one that finally makes him reach out and intertwine their fingers.

His hand retreats again, and Lily has to physically stop herself from groaning.

“Why are all of the Blacks named after stars?” she asks, trying to divert her impatience.

“Masochism, probably,” James says casually, even as he grins up at the stars. “Follow-up question.” He turns toward her, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as his cheek presses into the grass. She swallows and makes herself hold his gaze. “Why are all the Evans girls named after flowers?”

Lily laughs, their faces close enough that her breath ruffles a stray curl of his hair across his forehead. “Definitely masochism.” She shifts her hand so that it intentionally brushes against his again. “I’ve never really felt like a Lily.”

This time, he doesn't move his hand away. Instead, he presses back with the back of his hand. “I think it suits you. I think it’s lovely.”

She feels herself flush, even as she chuckles. “Lovely Lily,” she drawls, sarcastically.

“Hey,” he says softly, and finally—finally—his fingers catch hers. “Hey.”

She squeezes his hand. I’m right here, the motion says.

“Can I tell you something?”

She hums in affirmation.

“I made all that shit up from before,” he whispers. “I don’t know anything about astronomy.”

She giggles, absolutely delighted, turning to bury her face in his shoulder. “Can I tell you something?” She waits, for dramatic effect, and then grins up at him, her face flushed. “I know.”

He pulls back, their hands straining between them. “What?” he demands.

She’s practically hysterical now, snorting into his shirt. “Cassandra,” she says, using her free hand to swipe under her eyes. “The story you told. That’s Cassandra! And besides, it's Delphinus up there anyway.”

James yelps. “Why the hell did you let me witter on like a prat?”

“I quite like your wittering,” she replies cheekily, using their joined hands to pull herself a little closer.

Regulus: Why the fuck are your mouths purple

Barty: [holding up a red slushee]

Evan: [holding up a blue slushee]

Regulus: Oh

Regulus: OH

Regulus: EW

Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep, but a place for crows to rest their feet