Merry Christmas, SECRETSOLITAIRE!
Title: Adventures in Gift Wrapping
Author: katmarajade
Written for: secretsolitaire
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: George/Lee
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lee gets roped into manning the gift-wrapping station at WWW, because he can never manage to say no to George. It's going to take a dozen doughnuts, remedial ribbon-curling lessons, and bruise remover paste to get him through the day.
Word Count: 1282
Author's Notes: This one definitely grew into something much larger than I was expecting, but it was too much fun to stop it. I couldn't come up with any great ideas for your original prompt, so thanks goes to thimble-kiss for suggesting gift wrapping-Magic style! as an alternative. I hope you like it!
Betting with George Weasley is never a clever move, and after more than a decade of friendship, Lee should know that better than anyone. In fact, he does. Yet there are times when the familiar freckled face of his best friend looks so unbearably broken that Lee would do anything to fix it, to wash away the bleakness for just a minute, to bring back the smirking smile he knows and loves. In those weak moments, Lee finds himself betting with George, even though they both know Lee almost always loses.
That is how Lee Jordan finds himself manning the brand-new gift-wrapping station at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes the weekend before Christmas. He tries to devise excuses why he's really not the right man for the job, but he can't come up with anything that will actually work on George.
His first argument is that he's colour-blind, which means that the paper and bows and whatnot that he chooses will surely clash horridly. However, he's heard from numerous sources that everything in the entire bloody shop clashes terribly, so he can't imagine that he'll be offered a selection of wrapping products that don't already hurt the non-colour-blind customers' eyes.
Then he comes up with the brilliant realization that he hasn't got the faintest clue how to curl ribbons or tie bows or any of that nonsense. George doesn't bat an eye at Lee's revelation, and instead he teaches Lee a clever charm to use on the ribbons. Lee doesn't want to admit it, but it's actually rather fun to use-the ribbons spiral up into the air and shoot down onto the package in a wacky mess of curly-cues.
Most importantly, Lee's comedic decorating struggles make George laugh. That's the real reason Lee agrees to help. The world is a better place every time George laughs, and though Lee will deny it with every breath in his body, he will also do anything to keep that smile coming back. He wants it, cherishes it, needs it, though he tries not to let himself dwell on the increasingly obvious reason why.
He arrives bright and early and brings doughnuts. Because, really, if one expects Lee Jordan to be awake and even marginally functional at seven in the bloody morning-in the middle of Christmas party season no less! - there needs to be a truly ridiculous amount of sugar involved. The shop down the street from his flat is full of the most outlandish and delicious creations, and Lee buys a full dozen, still smarting from perhaps one too many Firewhisky Sours the night before.
A vanilla custard and a dulce de leche are gone before Lee even enters the shop. (It's a ten-minute walk!) Making sure that Verity gets her utterly dull and unimaginative plain doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, Lee then offers the box to George, relishing the anticipated pout that he gets when George discovers there isn't a single jelly in the mix. He lets it play out a bit, because the way George's lower lip pushes out like that and the stupid put-upon shine in George's brandy brown eyes make Lee's stomach twist in a manner almost as sweetly delicious as the dulce de leche sauce on his favourite doughnut. Then Lee laughs and hands George the slightly squished bag he was hiding, feeling a bit breathless at the look of sheer triumphant delight on George's face as he pulls out one of the two jellies, chomping enthusiastically into the sugared exterior and spurting the filling all over his robes, which conveniently matches the magenta jelly. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Lee grabs another doughnut, this one brimming with lemon curd, and blames his spinning head on too little sugar.
A second dulce de leche later, Lee is chasing down a rogue Pygmy Puff that refuses to stay in the specially-spelled gift bag that George insists will contain the rotten little bugger while keeping it alive and well until Christmas morning.
Less than an hour later, not long after licking the last of the delicious but messy cinnamon and sugar from his fingers, Lee finds himself tangled in a giant roll of lime green wrapping paper, Spellotape clinging to his every limb. George is laughing and offering Lee's stellar services to yet another customer. Seeing George grin that widely almost cancels out Lee's irritable frustration with the entire thing. Almost.
A raspberry glazed is in order after the third time one of the products explodes in his face. Lee is hiding out in the back room, taking a much-needed break and savouring the smeared-but-flavourful purple frosting and grouchily thinking that it resembles the bruise blooming on his right cheek when George pokes his head in, the chaotic noise of the shop rushing in with him. Lee considers giving his best friend a bruise to match his own. Then George gives him an almost apologetic look. It's all soft and sweet and lasts only a split second. It's gone before Lee even has time to register that it's happened and that George has handed him a jar of his super secret bruise remover paste, the one he developed with Fred years ago, the one whose secret George has repeatedly sworn he will take to his grave. By the time Lee looks up, George is back to smirking and telling him to stop being such a big girls blouse and get his doughnut-noshing arse back onto the floor. Lee looks morosely at the last bite of his raspberry glazed and thinks he'd be far better off if only he fancied his men even half as sweet as his pastries.
The ribbon curling charm is not working for him, which requires an extremely messy Banoffee pie style doughnut before Lee can muster the willingness to ask George to repeat the earlier charm lesson. Smug bastard. Make that a Banoffee pie and a butterscotch.
The lessons obviously don't stick, as fifteen minutes later, Lee is completely restrained by seemingly sentient orange ribbon. The ribbon continues to fly off the spool, curling itself around Lee ever more tightly while a bratty kid, whose gift Lee is supposed to be wrapping, laughs hysterically. By the time George notices his predicament, the ribbons have wrapped up around his face and Lee can't even speak. It's perhaps a mark of how George has matured that instead of laughing and teasing before freeing Lee, he now does all three at the same time. Still smarting from the indignity of the entire situation, Lee tries to hold his head high while telling George in no uncertain terms that he's destined to burn for all eternity in a ribbon-filled hell and that if he wants these bloody ribbon curls on any future packages, then he's going to have to do it himself. George laughs off his decorating damnation, slaps Lee on the back, and tells him to go have a quick cuppa. Lee lets out an exasperated huff but takes the offered break. It's really time to try the specialty doughnut of the day, a chocolate orange crème brulee. He's been saving it for last, but nearly being strangled to death by evil Christmas ribbons can change a man's priorities.
Eyeing the last doughnut-a coffee toffee and nut confection-Lee seriously considers finishing off the lot. While he's debating, the sound of George's booming laugh floats into the back room, and despite his stubborn wish to feign indifference, Lee can't help the smile that creeps across his face. Renegade Pygmy Puffs and homicidal ribbon aside, life is pretty good.
George is laughing, and there are doughnuts. Honestly, what more could a bloke ask for?
Author: katmarajade
Written for: secretsolitaire
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: George/Lee
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lee gets roped into manning the gift-wrapping station at WWW, because he can never manage to say no to George. It's going to take a dozen doughnuts, remedial ribbon-curling lessons, and bruise remover paste to get him through the day.
Word Count: 1282
Author's Notes: This one definitely grew into something much larger than I was expecting, but it was too much fun to stop it. I couldn't come up with any great ideas for your original prompt, so thanks goes to thimble-kiss for suggesting gift wrapping-Magic style! as an alternative. I hope you like it!
Betting with George Weasley is never a clever move, and after more than a decade of friendship, Lee should know that better than anyone. In fact, he does. Yet there are times when the familiar freckled face of his best friend looks so unbearably broken that Lee would do anything to fix it, to wash away the bleakness for just a minute, to bring back the smirking smile he knows and loves. In those weak moments, Lee finds himself betting with George, even though they both know Lee almost always loses.
That is how Lee Jordan finds himself manning the brand-new gift-wrapping station at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes the weekend before Christmas. He tries to devise excuses why he's really not the right man for the job, but he can't come up with anything that will actually work on George.
His first argument is that he's colour-blind, which means that the paper and bows and whatnot that he chooses will surely clash horridly. However, he's heard from numerous sources that everything in the entire bloody shop clashes terribly, so he can't imagine that he'll be offered a selection of wrapping products that don't already hurt the non-colour-blind customers' eyes.
Then he comes up with the brilliant realization that he hasn't got the faintest clue how to curl ribbons or tie bows or any of that nonsense. George doesn't bat an eye at Lee's revelation, and instead he teaches Lee a clever charm to use on the ribbons. Lee doesn't want to admit it, but it's actually rather fun to use-the ribbons spiral up into the air and shoot down onto the package in a wacky mess of curly-cues.
Most importantly, Lee's comedic decorating struggles make George laugh. That's the real reason Lee agrees to help. The world is a better place every time George laughs, and though Lee will deny it with every breath in his body, he will also do anything to keep that smile coming back. He wants it, cherishes it, needs it, though he tries not to let himself dwell on the increasingly obvious reason why.
He arrives bright and early and brings doughnuts. Because, really, if one expects Lee Jordan to be awake and even marginally functional at seven in the bloody morning-in the middle of Christmas party season no less! - there needs to be a truly ridiculous amount of sugar involved. The shop down the street from his flat is full of the most outlandish and delicious creations, and Lee buys a full dozen, still smarting from perhaps one too many Firewhisky Sours the night before.
A vanilla custard and a dulce de leche are gone before Lee even enters the shop. (It's a ten-minute walk!) Making sure that Verity gets her utterly dull and unimaginative plain doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, Lee then offers the box to George, relishing the anticipated pout that he gets when George discovers there isn't a single jelly in the mix. He lets it play out a bit, because the way George's lower lip pushes out like that and the stupid put-upon shine in George's brandy brown eyes make Lee's stomach twist in a manner almost as sweetly delicious as the dulce de leche sauce on his favourite doughnut. Then Lee laughs and hands George the slightly squished bag he was hiding, feeling a bit breathless at the look of sheer triumphant delight on George's face as he pulls out one of the two jellies, chomping enthusiastically into the sugared exterior and spurting the filling all over his robes, which conveniently matches the magenta jelly. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Lee grabs another doughnut, this one brimming with lemon curd, and blames his spinning head on too little sugar.
A second dulce de leche later, Lee is chasing down a rogue Pygmy Puff that refuses to stay in the specially-spelled gift bag that George insists will contain the rotten little bugger while keeping it alive and well until Christmas morning.
Less than an hour later, not long after licking the last of the delicious but messy cinnamon and sugar from his fingers, Lee finds himself tangled in a giant roll of lime green wrapping paper, Spellotape clinging to his every limb. George is laughing and offering Lee's stellar services to yet another customer. Seeing George grin that widely almost cancels out Lee's irritable frustration with the entire thing. Almost.
A raspberry glazed is in order after the third time one of the products explodes in his face. Lee is hiding out in the back room, taking a much-needed break and savouring the smeared-but-flavourful purple frosting and grouchily thinking that it resembles the bruise blooming on his right cheek when George pokes his head in, the chaotic noise of the shop rushing in with him. Lee considers giving his best friend a bruise to match his own. Then George gives him an almost apologetic look. It's all soft and sweet and lasts only a split second. It's gone before Lee even has time to register that it's happened and that George has handed him a jar of his super secret bruise remover paste, the one he developed with Fred years ago, the one whose secret George has repeatedly sworn he will take to his grave. By the time Lee looks up, George is back to smirking and telling him to stop being such a big girls blouse and get his doughnut-noshing arse back onto the floor. Lee looks morosely at the last bite of his raspberry glazed and thinks he'd be far better off if only he fancied his men even half as sweet as his pastries.
The ribbon curling charm is not working for him, which requires an extremely messy Banoffee pie style doughnut before Lee can muster the willingness to ask George to repeat the earlier charm lesson. Smug bastard. Make that a Banoffee pie and a butterscotch.
The lessons obviously don't stick, as fifteen minutes later, Lee is completely restrained by seemingly sentient orange ribbon. The ribbon continues to fly off the spool, curling itself around Lee ever more tightly while a bratty kid, whose gift Lee is supposed to be wrapping, laughs hysterically. By the time George notices his predicament, the ribbons have wrapped up around his face and Lee can't even speak. It's perhaps a mark of how George has matured that instead of laughing and teasing before freeing Lee, he now does all three at the same time. Still smarting from the indignity of the entire situation, Lee tries to hold his head high while telling George in no uncertain terms that he's destined to burn for all eternity in a ribbon-filled hell and that if he wants these bloody ribbon curls on any future packages, then he's going to have to do it himself. George laughs off his decorating damnation, slaps Lee on the back, and tells him to go have a quick cuppa. Lee lets out an exasperated huff but takes the offered break. It's really time to try the specialty doughnut of the day, a chocolate orange crème brulee. He's been saving it for last, but nearly being strangled to death by evil Christmas ribbons can change a man's priorities.
Eyeing the last doughnut-a coffee toffee and nut confection-Lee seriously considers finishing off the lot. While he's debating, the sound of George's booming laugh floats into the back room, and despite his stubborn wish to feign indifference, Lee can't help the smile that creeps across his face. Renegade Pygmy Puffs and homicidal ribbon aside, life is pretty good.
George is laughing, and there are doughnuts. Honestly, what more could a bloke ask for?