"I genuinely think this looks like James," Sirius says, nudging you with his elbow. You look away from the oranges and see that he's holding up a misshapen sweet potato.
You just raise your eyebrows at him and bite the inside of your cheek. He wiggles the spud and clears his throat. "Oh, Lily, I swear I didn't mean to break my glasses again," he says, voice pitched up in a deliberately poor imitation of James's lilt. You flare your nostrils in an attempt to keep your expression neutral.
"It hasn't got glasses," you say. "Actually, it kind of looks like you." Sirius's eyes go wide and his jaw drops in mock offense.
"I'm wounded," he cries, pressing a hand to his heart. "My own girlfriend thinks I look like a potato." The corner of your mouth twitches and you turn away from him to put the fruits from your list into your cart.
"Don't be dramatic," you say, pushing your way around the produce section of the store. "Potatoes really are quite versatile."
Sirius hooks his chin over your shoulder to take a peek at the list and to say, softly, "Are you saying I'm easy, darling?" You can feel his stubble on your neck, smell his cologne over the sterile air of the supermarket.
"I'm saying that I like potatoes," you tell him. He laughs suddenly, delighted at your flirting, before crossing the aisle to grab garlic.
"I'd hope so," he says. "Otherwise it's going to be real awkward when we get home and you have to share a bed with me." You roll your eyes and continue through the store.
He tugs your hand as you leave the fruits behind and you stop. "You know, pineapple is supposed to make your pu--"
You level him with a glare and he stops talking, though his grin is smug and not at all sorry. "Don't think I won't leave you here," you say.
Sirius taps your chin with a knuckle. "You'd miss me." His eyes crinkle at the corners, like he can't help but smile when he looks at you.
You sigh like the most put upon girl in the world. "Unfortunately," you drone. "Go get some cereal and I'll meet you by the bread." He presses a quick kiss to your cheek and spins on his heel.
Idiot, you think, but you're smiling. Every moment with Sirius is heightened, is more alive than you thought possible. He's practically spilling over with whatever he's feeling at any given moment and it spreads to you. His excitement, his flirtation, his love. Even this -- going to the grocery store -- is a small adventure.
He's only gone for a few minutes, finding you in front of the pasta before you've made your way to the bread. He always finds you, somehow. He gasps when he sees you.
"Fuck me," he says. "You've gotten prettier since I last saw you. How did you manage that?" You ignore him, studying the options on the shelf instead, but your mouth turns up at the edges. "There she is," Sirius says, softer. "Got you."
"You're incorrigible," you mutter. He moves to stand beside you, tucking his hand into your back pocket.
"Oh, big word," he says, breath hot on your ear. "Talk dirty to me."
"If you keep distracting me we're never going to get home," you tell him. He shrugs.
"This would not a bad place to live, actually. Lots of food. Shit to do. I'm sure there are break rooms with couches we could fu--" You level him with the same glare from the fruit aisle and he laughs again. "Sorry, sorry, I'll behave. And then we can go home to our couch." He leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth.
"I'll believe it when I see it," you say. He plucks the list from your hand and gives it a once-over.
"Meet you at the check-out in 10 and I swear I'll have all of this stuff." Before you can say another word he's off.
"Ridiculous," you say to the pasta. I love him, you think, cheeks starting to ache from your smile.