Cold Ostrich

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Lily popped in on the flat in East London the morning after telling James about the baby, while he was at work at the Ministry. Stepping out of the floo, she found Sirius laying on his back on the couch. Sirius's head hanging where his legs ought to be and legs up in the air over the back of the cushion, where his head ought to be. He had the record player spinning within reach of his arms so he could change the record without moving from his spot, a stack of records on the floor beside it. He wore pair of dark sunglasses on his face, and had a drink with a straw set strategically placed just where he could turn his head to take sips without moving.

Sirius raised (or lowered, depending on your view point) the sunglasses to look at Lily. "Well good morning Love, I see you're over your bout of prongslet-fetus nausea for the morning?"

"Yeah, for now," Lily replied.

"Brilliant, so I get the nausea worse than the actual pregnant lady, of course," he murmured, and returned the sunglasses to their rightful place.

Lily laughed in spite of herself.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "You laugh at that? I'm not even the one that's pregnant, Lilith."

"I know," she said. She sat down beside him on the couch - right way up, though - and patted his belly. 

Sirius giggled instinctively and grabbed for the hem of his t-shirt, which had risen up, tugging it down. "Don't, that tickles."

Lily smirked. "Uh oh, did I find the doggy's tickle spot?"

"Shut the fuck up, Lilith," he said in a snobbish tone, "I'm very angry with you for getting us pregnant without telling me the side effects." 

"For real, though, are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

"My own body back?"

"Sorry, we'll have to wait nine months for that."

"This was not included in the Uncle Padfoot pamphlet, darling," he said, "When you and Prongs announced you were trying at having a Prongslet, I envisioned you being all fat and screaming curses at Prongs for causing all of it, and me enjoying teaching your child how to be a rebellious little shit... Giving him candy and sending him home ramped on sugar, that sort of rot. Not barfing my ever loving brains out half the morning only to then be teased by you in the afternoon."

"It's half nine Sirius."

"Even worse."

"You're so very cranky today."

"Oh yes, another detail left out of the Uncle Padfoot packet..." he reached into his pocket and handed her a pack of cigarettes. "Here."

"What's this?"

"My temptation."

"Your cigarettes?"

"I've quit, Lilith," he said in very dramatic tone, complete with the heaviest of sighs.

"You have?"

"Yes. Cold ostrich."

"You mean cold turkey?"

"Ostriches are fathoms more interesting than turkeys, darling, keep up."

"Oh. Yes, sorry." She paused, turning the pack of cigarettes over. "You really quit?"

Sirius sighed even more dramatically. "Would I be this much of a bastard if I had nicotine in me?"

"I mean... depending on the day..."

"You hurt me, Lilith."

"It's true."

Sirius shook his head. "Emotionally stabbed. Right in the heart."

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