HP Fic- Too Many Cooks 6/???
Feb. 9th, 2004 11:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalThis part was a little forced (I still have trouble with Peter... especially James-Peter dynamics) so let me know if there's something you feel I should change/add. I feel like it needs something else... gah... more... I don't know what. But more of something.
Part 1- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/183693.html
Part 2- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/187366.html
Part 3- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/188816.html
Part 4- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/190584.html
Part 5- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/204910.html
Same ratings apply to this part
Too Many Cooks
Peter grinned down at James as James rolled over and woke, coughing. He held out a bowl of chicken soup. “Remus said you wanted more.” His eyes drew down to the foot of the bed to point out a large tray of sandwiches and cookies and other sweats. “So I thought I’d bring a light snack up.” James looked over the food again with a smile. A light snack to Peter wasn’t exactly what James would have liked. But James sniffled and nodded and sat up against the pillows. He wasn’t too hungry, but took the soup to humor Peter.
Peter sat down in a chair beside the bed and took a handful of cookies, not noticing that James wasn’t eating. “So, how’re you doing? Have a nice day sleeping?”
James shrugged. “Guess so. Had a couple of strange dreams, and some that were kind of nice. But I keep waking up before the dreams can finish. And then it takes a while to get back to sleep.”
“Oh, yeah I bet,” said Peter sympathetically. Then, grinning at the way James’ eyes were sparkling, added, “You were dreaming about Lily, weren’t you?”
A bit taken aback, James coughed a couple of times to delay the need to answer. “Well… a few times maybe.” Feeling almost naked in front of Peter, he lowered his head and took a few spoonfuls of soup, pretending not to care. In truth, every dream had involved her in some way lately, sick or not. Some good, some bad. Lately they’d all revolved around their upcoming date, and he was beginning to think that he shouldn’t have asked her out in the first place. The chicken soup was looking rather unappetizing he dropped the spoon into the bowl and left it there. “So… ah… how were classes?”
“Boring as usual,” Peter replied, propping his feet up on the bed and crossing his legs. “You should be glad you missed out on it. Although I guess you were there in a way, weren’t you?” He smiled and reached for another hand of cookies. He offered them over, but James refused. After the few bites of soup, he really wasn’t hungry at all. He knew he really should eat, it was chicken soup, after all. But he just didn’t have the stomach for it any more.
“Guess so. Speaking of which where…” James rolled his eyes. “Hang on…” And he grabbed a couple tissues from the box. “hah… hah-Kuhchooo! Heh-Shoo! ehChoo!” He blew his nose, not wanting Peter to tell him he should, and sighed. “Been sneezing like mad all afternoon.”
“Sorry,” said Peter, not knowing what else to say, and helplessly offered another cookie.
James took it to make Peter feel useful, and nibbled at it. To his cold-numbed senses, it didn’t taste much differently than the soup, only it scratched his throat a bit on the way down. “So… where’s Sirius then?” he asked, suddenly remembering his question. James looked around, hoping maybe to find Sirius lurking somewhere in the room, or about to burst through the door looking like him. “Classes are over, yeah?”
“Classes are,” confirmed Peter. “But there’s Quidditch practice, isn’t there?”
James’ eyes widened. “Oh no. You don’t mean—”
“Yep!” Peter replied. “He’s out there right now. But Remus is watching to make sure he behaves himself.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring.” James strained his neck to look out the window, but the Quidditch pitch was not remotely visible from the tower normally so he had no hope of seeing it now.
“Don’t worry, we’ve all heard you practicing your speeches in front of the mirror so many times we could say them in our sleep.” He took his legs down off the bed and sat up straight in the chair, clearing his throat. “Team, we’ve got to get out there and win. If not for our glory, then for Gryffindor’s.” Peter put his hand to his head, ruffling up his hair the way James did, though his blonde hair looked nothing like James’ when he did it. Instead it just looked as though he’d done a bad job combing it. “Now we need to learn not to rely solely on the seeker. If we do our job and score well, and keep the other team from scoring, the snitch points will just be icing on—”
“Enough!” laughed James, waving his hand to get Peter to stop the recitation. “I get it.” He coughed and grabbed his glass of water. It needed a refill, but Peter didn’t notice or offer. James set the glass and the soup back on the bed stand with a sigh. It was then that he noticed a strange looking notebook sticking out of Peter’s bag. “Hey, what’s… what’s that?” He had but a few seconds’ look at it before pulling another handful of tissues from the box. “ihhChoo! hahhChooo! huhKchooo!” This time he didn’t hesitate to blow his nose either, though it didn’t sound particularly good, and he slid beneath the covers to hide as much of himself as possible afterwards.
“This?” Peter asked, pulling a black leather-bound notebook from his bag. “Sirius, I mean James, I mean Sirius picked this up today. It was Remus’ idea, though. We’re to keep track of your health in it. You know, how high your fever is, what your present symptoms are, what we’ve tried, and what’s worked. All that.”
James eyed it suspiciously, his head above the nose popping out over the covers. “We go to all that trouble to hide my cold, and you lot want to go and document… it?” His whole body shook beneath the covers as he sneezed. “hehShooo! hahChooo! huh-huhChooo! hehktchoo!”
Peter pulled out some tissues and passed them to James beneath the covers, then took a thermometer from the box on the far end of the bed stand. “Don’t worry, we enchanted it. No one will be able to read the ledger but us. Besides, it’s never going to leave this room and from now on, one of us will be with you all the time, watching your every move and recording it.”
James groaned inwardly, and sneezed again. “hehhhChoo! huhTshooo! hahShooo! hehKshooo! Tchooo!” He looked up at Peter a moment. His head spun from the force of so much sneezing but he could remember what Peter had just described. “I cad hardly wait,” he snuffled, and blew his nose some more, requiring him to pull the whole tissue box under the covers with him for easier use.
“So, first thing’s first,” Peter said, shaking the thermometer. “Can I take your temperature?” he asked. Sirius wouldn’t have bothered asking; he would have just shoved it right into James’ mouth. And Remus would have thought of some clever something to make him feel guilty for refusing. Somehow, James preferred Peter’s way and nodded, opening his mouth.
It wasn’t long before the tickles in his nose got the better of him, and he pinched his nose shut as he held a tissue up to it just in case. His head seemed to hurt the most every time he tried to hold a sneeze back, and soon he was pretty sure he should have just refused to have his temperature taken so that he could instead sneeze freely.
“Just relax,” Peter said, looking at his pocket watch and counting down the time. “It’s almost time.”
James tried to relax against his pillows, beneath his covers. He tried to concentrate on how much warmer he was feeling with the blankets up to his chin and a bit of soup in him. He tried to concentrate on how nice it would be to spend the weekend in bed with his friends there to amuse him and take care of him. He tried to ignore the violent ticklings which had taken up residence in his nose. But try as he might, the sneezes were all he could think about, all he could feel. Whether it was time or not, James cupped the tissue to his nose and let out a sneeze. “hehKtchoo!” The thermometer tumbled out, onto the covers, and Peter recovered it instantly while murmuring a blessing. James, on the other hand, turned onto his side, away from Peter, curling into himself and cupping both hands to his face. “huhChooo! hahChooo! hahh-Shooo! huhKchooo! huh… sniff… huhKushhhooo!”
“Says you have a fever of about thirty-nine and a half,” Peter said over James’ heavy breathing into a tissue. “Of course that could be wrong. It wasn’t in there for the whole time required…”
“If it’s wrog, it’s because it’s too low, dot too… too high…” James snuffled, then quickly tensed up again with more oncoming sneezes. “huhhhh… hahChooo! hehChoo! huhCHOO!”
“Bless you,” Peter said again, though the accompanying sound was that of a quill scratching against the thick pages of a book. James looked over his shoulder to see Peter scribbling away in the ledger. “Can you list your current symptoms for me?” Peter asked, rubbing the feather part of the quill against his chin in thought. “Remus said he wants it all recorded in detail.”
“Of course he did,” mumbled James, who blew his nose and rolled back over not because he wanted to face Peter, but because that’s where the tissue box was, still under the covers with him. “What, you cad’t tell what by sybtobs are?” he asked with some irritation, feeling that this wasn’t the time to go on about how he felt. This was the time to blow his nose and try to make himself feel better. But Peter gave him a pleading look. James pulled out a handful of tissues and blew his nose a dozen times before finally answering Peter’s question. “Sneezing, coughing, congestion, runny nose, sore throat, headache, actually everything aches, chills, a fever… is that enough for you?”
Peter was scribbling away furiously, trying to keep up. “How about your stomach?” Peter asked, taking his eyes off the black ledger to look up at the barely eaten soup.
“It’s okay,” James said. “I’m just not very hungry.” Nodding, Peter wrote more down. “Hey, can I get a look?” asked James, pulling his whole head out from beneath the covers and craning his neck to try and see the pages.
Peter shook his head, blew upon the page lightly until the words disappeared, then shut it. “You wouldn’t want to bother. We’re just using it to keep track of you and all.”
James looked skeptical. What in the world could it say that Peter didn’t want him to read? And how was it going to help if he couldn’t even read it himself? After a few moments of putting up with another tickle in his nose, the records were forgotten to make way for more tissues and more sneezing. “hehChoo! hahKchooo! HuhChoo!” Miserably rubbing at his nose, he didn’t notice that Peter was still staring at him. “hah…IHChoo!”
“Prongs…” James looked up. “Maybe you should get some more rest? The others will be back soon. Unless… unless you’d rather have something more to eat?”
James rolled over again, his back to Peter, but taking the tissue box with him this time. “Not hungry,” he said, closing his eyes. He’d said that before. Hadn’t Peter been listening? Didn’t he write that down in the damn ledger? What he really wanted was some more water, but Peter hadn’t noticed or volunteered to get him some, and James really didn’t want to make a big thing about it.
Part of James hoped that Quidditch practice ended sooner rather than later so Sirius and Remus would return, and part of him wanted to be left alone as he had been much of the day already. It was hard to go to sleep with Peter hovering over him and taking in every detail so he could write it down in the ledger. He’d rather have Remus’ soft touch and terrible tea which nonetheless made him feel better, or Sirius with his rough kindness but reassuring nature. But with the Marauders about, he knew it would be impossible to get much rest at all. Even when they tried to be quiet and calm things tended to get out of hand for the Marauders when they were all four together. It was just in their nature. Before he could determine what he really wanted, he fell back to sleep.
Part 7: Apples
(I think... it's either that or Exercise, which is currently 8... but I reserve the right to switch them in the future)
Part 1- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/183693.html
Part 2- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/187366.html
Part 3- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/188816.html
Part 4- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/190584.html
Part 5- http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarotgal/204910.html
Same ratings apply to this part
Too Many Cooks
Peter grinned down at James as James rolled over and woke, coughing. He held out a bowl of chicken soup. “Remus said you wanted more.” His eyes drew down to the foot of the bed to point out a large tray of sandwiches and cookies and other sweats. “So I thought I’d bring a light snack up.” James looked over the food again with a smile. A light snack to Peter wasn’t exactly what James would have liked. But James sniffled and nodded and sat up against the pillows. He wasn’t too hungry, but took the soup to humor Peter.
Peter sat down in a chair beside the bed and took a handful of cookies, not noticing that James wasn’t eating. “So, how’re you doing? Have a nice day sleeping?”
James shrugged. “Guess so. Had a couple of strange dreams, and some that were kind of nice. But I keep waking up before the dreams can finish. And then it takes a while to get back to sleep.”
“Oh, yeah I bet,” said Peter sympathetically. Then, grinning at the way James’ eyes were sparkling, added, “You were dreaming about Lily, weren’t you?”
A bit taken aback, James coughed a couple of times to delay the need to answer. “Well… a few times maybe.” Feeling almost naked in front of Peter, he lowered his head and took a few spoonfuls of soup, pretending not to care. In truth, every dream had involved her in some way lately, sick or not. Some good, some bad. Lately they’d all revolved around their upcoming date, and he was beginning to think that he shouldn’t have asked her out in the first place. The chicken soup was looking rather unappetizing he dropped the spoon into the bowl and left it there. “So… ah… how were classes?”
“Boring as usual,” Peter replied, propping his feet up on the bed and crossing his legs. “You should be glad you missed out on it. Although I guess you were there in a way, weren’t you?” He smiled and reached for another hand of cookies. He offered them over, but James refused. After the few bites of soup, he really wasn’t hungry at all. He knew he really should eat, it was chicken soup, after all. But he just didn’t have the stomach for it any more.
“Guess so. Speaking of which where…” James rolled his eyes. “Hang on…” And he grabbed a couple tissues from the box. “hah… hah-Kuhchooo! Heh-Shoo! ehChoo!” He blew his nose, not wanting Peter to tell him he should, and sighed. “Been sneezing like mad all afternoon.”
“Sorry,” said Peter, not knowing what else to say, and helplessly offered another cookie.
James took it to make Peter feel useful, and nibbled at it. To his cold-numbed senses, it didn’t taste much differently than the soup, only it scratched his throat a bit on the way down. “So… where’s Sirius then?” he asked, suddenly remembering his question. James looked around, hoping maybe to find Sirius lurking somewhere in the room, or about to burst through the door looking like him. “Classes are over, yeah?”
“Classes are,” confirmed Peter. “But there’s Quidditch practice, isn’t there?”
James’ eyes widened. “Oh no. You don’t mean—”
“Yep!” Peter replied. “He’s out there right now. But Remus is watching to make sure he behaves himself.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring.” James strained his neck to look out the window, but the Quidditch pitch was not remotely visible from the tower normally so he had no hope of seeing it now.
“Don’t worry, we’ve all heard you practicing your speeches in front of the mirror so many times we could say them in our sleep.” He took his legs down off the bed and sat up straight in the chair, clearing his throat. “Team, we’ve got to get out there and win. If not for our glory, then for Gryffindor’s.” Peter put his hand to his head, ruffling up his hair the way James did, though his blonde hair looked nothing like James’ when he did it. Instead it just looked as though he’d done a bad job combing it. “Now we need to learn not to rely solely on the seeker. If we do our job and score well, and keep the other team from scoring, the snitch points will just be icing on—”
“Enough!” laughed James, waving his hand to get Peter to stop the recitation. “I get it.” He coughed and grabbed his glass of water. It needed a refill, but Peter didn’t notice or offer. James set the glass and the soup back on the bed stand with a sigh. It was then that he noticed a strange looking notebook sticking out of Peter’s bag. “Hey, what’s… what’s that?” He had but a few seconds’ look at it before pulling another handful of tissues from the box. “ihhChoo! hahhChooo! huhKchooo!” This time he didn’t hesitate to blow his nose either, though it didn’t sound particularly good, and he slid beneath the covers to hide as much of himself as possible afterwards.
“This?” Peter asked, pulling a black leather-bound notebook from his bag. “Sirius, I mean James, I mean Sirius picked this up today. It was Remus’ idea, though. We’re to keep track of your health in it. You know, how high your fever is, what your present symptoms are, what we’ve tried, and what’s worked. All that.”
James eyed it suspiciously, his head above the nose popping out over the covers. “We go to all that trouble to hide my cold, and you lot want to go and document… it?” His whole body shook beneath the covers as he sneezed. “hehShooo! hahChooo! huh-huhChooo! hehktchoo!”
Peter pulled out some tissues and passed them to James beneath the covers, then took a thermometer from the box on the far end of the bed stand. “Don’t worry, we enchanted it. No one will be able to read the ledger but us. Besides, it’s never going to leave this room and from now on, one of us will be with you all the time, watching your every move and recording it.”
James groaned inwardly, and sneezed again. “hehhhChoo! huhTshooo! hahShooo! hehKshooo! Tchooo!” He looked up at Peter a moment. His head spun from the force of so much sneezing but he could remember what Peter had just described. “I cad hardly wait,” he snuffled, and blew his nose some more, requiring him to pull the whole tissue box under the covers with him for easier use.
“So, first thing’s first,” Peter said, shaking the thermometer. “Can I take your temperature?” he asked. Sirius wouldn’t have bothered asking; he would have just shoved it right into James’ mouth. And Remus would have thought of some clever something to make him feel guilty for refusing. Somehow, James preferred Peter’s way and nodded, opening his mouth.
It wasn’t long before the tickles in his nose got the better of him, and he pinched his nose shut as he held a tissue up to it just in case. His head seemed to hurt the most every time he tried to hold a sneeze back, and soon he was pretty sure he should have just refused to have his temperature taken so that he could instead sneeze freely.
“Just relax,” Peter said, looking at his pocket watch and counting down the time. “It’s almost time.”
James tried to relax against his pillows, beneath his covers. He tried to concentrate on how much warmer he was feeling with the blankets up to his chin and a bit of soup in him. He tried to concentrate on how nice it would be to spend the weekend in bed with his friends there to amuse him and take care of him. He tried to ignore the violent ticklings which had taken up residence in his nose. But try as he might, the sneezes were all he could think about, all he could feel. Whether it was time or not, James cupped the tissue to his nose and let out a sneeze. “hehKtchoo!” The thermometer tumbled out, onto the covers, and Peter recovered it instantly while murmuring a blessing. James, on the other hand, turned onto his side, away from Peter, curling into himself and cupping both hands to his face. “huhChooo! hahChooo! hahh-Shooo! huhKchooo! huh… sniff… huhKushhhooo!”
“Says you have a fever of about thirty-nine and a half,” Peter said over James’ heavy breathing into a tissue. “Of course that could be wrong. It wasn’t in there for the whole time required…”
“If it’s wrog, it’s because it’s too low, dot too… too high…” James snuffled, then quickly tensed up again with more oncoming sneezes. “huhhhh… hahChooo! hehChoo! huhCHOO!”
“Bless you,” Peter said again, though the accompanying sound was that of a quill scratching against the thick pages of a book. James looked over his shoulder to see Peter scribbling away in the ledger. “Can you list your current symptoms for me?” Peter asked, rubbing the feather part of the quill against his chin in thought. “Remus said he wants it all recorded in detail.”
“Of course he did,” mumbled James, who blew his nose and rolled back over not because he wanted to face Peter, but because that’s where the tissue box was, still under the covers with him. “What, you cad’t tell what by sybtobs are?” he asked with some irritation, feeling that this wasn’t the time to go on about how he felt. This was the time to blow his nose and try to make himself feel better. But Peter gave him a pleading look. James pulled out a handful of tissues and blew his nose a dozen times before finally answering Peter’s question. “Sneezing, coughing, congestion, runny nose, sore throat, headache, actually everything aches, chills, a fever… is that enough for you?”
Peter was scribbling away furiously, trying to keep up. “How about your stomach?” Peter asked, taking his eyes off the black ledger to look up at the barely eaten soup.
“It’s okay,” James said. “I’m just not very hungry.” Nodding, Peter wrote more down. “Hey, can I get a look?” asked James, pulling his whole head out from beneath the covers and craning his neck to try and see the pages.
Peter shook his head, blew upon the page lightly until the words disappeared, then shut it. “You wouldn’t want to bother. We’re just using it to keep track of you and all.”
James looked skeptical. What in the world could it say that Peter didn’t want him to read? And how was it going to help if he couldn’t even read it himself? After a few moments of putting up with another tickle in his nose, the records were forgotten to make way for more tissues and more sneezing. “hehChoo! hahKchooo! HuhChoo!” Miserably rubbing at his nose, he didn’t notice that Peter was still staring at him. “hah…IHChoo!”
“Prongs…” James looked up. “Maybe you should get some more rest? The others will be back soon. Unless… unless you’d rather have something more to eat?”
James rolled over again, his back to Peter, but taking the tissue box with him this time. “Not hungry,” he said, closing his eyes. He’d said that before. Hadn’t Peter been listening? Didn’t he write that down in the damn ledger? What he really wanted was some more water, but Peter hadn’t noticed or volunteered to get him some, and James really didn’t want to make a big thing about it.
Part of James hoped that Quidditch practice ended sooner rather than later so Sirius and Remus would return, and part of him wanted to be left alone as he had been much of the day already. It was hard to go to sleep with Peter hovering over him and taking in every detail so he could write it down in the ledger. He’d rather have Remus’ soft touch and terrible tea which nonetheless made him feel better, or Sirius with his rough kindness but reassuring nature. But with the Marauders about, he knew it would be impossible to get much rest at all. Even when they tried to be quiet and calm things tended to get out of hand for the Marauders when they were all four together. It was just in their nature. Before he could determine what he really wanted, he fell back to sleep.
Part 7: Apples
(I think... it's either that or Exercise, which is currently 8... but I reserve the right to switch them in the future)
no subject
The black ledger idea was certainly good, and brought a smile to my face having James list all of his symptoms like that, lol. I like that Peter got to take him temperature. Awww!
I also like how he missed Remus and Sirius, I did too, they really brighten up the chapter. I suppose that I have a certain bias against Peter, because of, you know. But I've almost seperated book 3 Peter from Marauder Peter, so I'm still thinking about what I really think of his character, you know?
This is a really cute fic, I'm finding myself constantly checking for new ones!
~Annalisa
no subject
Date: 2004-02-10 05:45 am (UTC)Well, it was needed for several things in future chapters/sections, so I wanted to introduce it early on. And it seemed appropriate for Peter to start it off.
I also like how he missed Remus and Sirius, I did too, they really brighten up the chapter. I suppose that I have a certain bias against Peter, because of, you know. But I've almost seperated book 3 Peter from Marauder Peter, so I'm still thinking about what I really think of his character, you know?
I do know exactly. I have a hard time with 7th year Peter, especially, since I like to think of him starting to go towards the dark side right out of Hogwarts(but in my mind he doesn't actually join up until right before Harry's born-which would make it a year before he gives up their position as secret keeper, like Sirius says in book three)
But, yes, I do try to separate the two, as well. I like to think that the fear of the real world and the war is what changes him, makes him resort to seeking refuge with the enemy. And so he's still a "nice guy" back in his Hogwarts days. But it's harder and harder to write him the older he gets.
And, yeah, I was missing the pups, so that came out in James as well *G*
This is a really cute fic, I'm finding myself constantly checking for new ones!
Sorry it takes so long to get each part done! But don't worry, I already have the ending written and a lot planned, so there's no chance of me giving up on it any time soon. Thanks for the fb(and the push)! :-)