InsaneJournal

Who: Sirius and Lily
What: Hanging around and platonic cuddles
Where: The Potters' flat.
When: This evening, after Sirius' network post.
Rating: TBD. Medium for swearing, probs.
Status: In progress.

Sirius had turned up here after a rather brillliant bout of shower sex with Remus, his hair still damp and rivulets of warm water dripping down into his collar. They'd sent Remus and James off on their little man-date, and now Sirius was curled on one end of the sofa, Lily tucked under one arm, watching some weird comedy that his best mate's pregnant wife had picked out. On the screen, some Irish bloke was singing at a girl who was looking angry and - in Sirius' humble opinion - wasn't even that hot. There was also some background music playing that sounded like someone had fallen into a guitar, and Sirius was staring at the screen like he'd never seen anything so mental in his entire life.

"I don't get it," he told the redhead for about the seven millionth time. "She's not even that hot." He shifted awkwardly - there had been some impressive Chinese food consumption only an hour before, and the meal was sitting heavily on his stomach. "And he sings like a constipated Hippogriff." He paused, wincing as the scene changed before turning to look down at Lily. "His death was a mercy to the music business."