Like a Romantic Comedy by cosmopolitan

Chapter V: I hate my paradoxical mind

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“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he bluntly told me as I lay on his bed, my head buried in his pillow while I groaned in anguish.

“Go to hell you unsympathetic bastard!” I muttered through gritted teeth and a mouth blocked by a pillow his—as I was desperately trying to prevent him from seeing the surely unappealing blush that was spreading across my face.

He sighed; chuckling slightly as he gruffly pulled the pillow out from under my face—resulting in a rather painful and unexpected crash into his mattress, one that I was entirely unprepared for. “Oi, you prat, your mattress is bloody hard!” I screamed, slapping his arm as I got up, rubbing my chin soothingly.

“Whatever, you deserve to be slapped back into reality anyway. I mean what the hell, Lils? You want him, but you don’t want to be the cliché bitch that steals him from ‘the slag’, as you’ve so fittingly dubbed her. You’ve blocked yourself into this bloody corner and I’m sure that Remus told you the same thing so what do you want from me?”

“An option three,” I told him, smiling brightly.

He stared at me blankly. “You’re an idiot.”

I disappointedly shook my head at him, not at all impressed by his words. “And I think you’ve said that before… not sure if it was those exact words at the moment, but it was definitely somewhere along those lines—now you don’t want to be repetitive, do you, Sirius?”

He sent me an incredulous look as he shook his head at me, taking a seat by my side on his bed, throwing his head into his hands as he groaned loudly.

“Cheer up, ole chap,” I clapped him on the back—an action that only made his cries grow. “Come on, I can’t have you being all bitter and pessimistic like this, doesn’t send a very good sign to the universe, now does it?”

“I hardly see how it’s even correlated to the universe in any respect,” he sullenly, and rather cynically, much to my distaste, muttered.

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Association, Sirius, the deities—or whoever the fuck is in charge of that whole naughty and nice list, because it sure as hell isn’t Santa—will immediately associate your negative comments and glum attitude to this conversation which, in turn, brings them to my relationship with James. See, bad karma.”

“You’re far too screwy for your own good,” he cried, yet again. It really wasn’t a very masculine show of masculinity—and I say that for lack of a better word, as really, regardless of how verbose I may be, I also talk a lot, coming up with synonyms for all that shite gets rather tiring on the brain.

Either way, however, it was a pathetic sight.

“Ah yes, I think we’ve covered that one as well, you really do have a thing for running in circles, don’t you, love?”

“And this is coming from the bint who wants a bloke but won’t actually do anything about it.”

“Oi, I will, just not anything that is incriminating, morally wrong, or could be misconstrued as so.”

He raised his head to send me a dull and almost witless, on him at least, look. “And what isn’t when you’re trying to steal another girl’s boyfriend.”

“Well, you see, that’s where you come in. You see, good ole Moony made a very good point before, he mentioned how morally flexible you are, I need you to transfer those powers unto me.”

“And how do you propose I go about doing that one?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s where you come in, you dolt.”

He scoffed. “Oh, so I’m the dolt in this situation?”

“Well you can’t figure out simple concepts like what your role is in a plan… sorry to tell you the truth, but I’ve always said that honesty is the best policy,” I smirked.

“Which is also why you told James that you’re in love with him,” he quipped.

Really now, that was uncalled for.

“Just give me a plan,” I mumbled darkly, rather put-off by the fact that I didn’t have a proper retort for that comment. Damn.

He shrugged.

“That’s not a plan,” I tutted him, pointing out the obvious just because I adore how much it aggravates him to have

“Don’t berate or admonish me, it’s patronizing and you’re annoying enough as it is.”

I gasped. “Oi!”

“I have a plan.”

“Ooh… that’s almost worthy of forgiveness.”

“I should hope so as I rather fear what you’d do to me in response to my last comment otherwise.”

“Well you won’t have to worry about that if your plan is worth anything, so go on,” I ordered him, waving enthusiastically as I couldn’t help but bounce on the bed slightly as I was literally wiggling with anticipation.

Finally, I was getting somewhere.

“Make him jealous.”

Sadly, however, “somewhere” wasn’t really anywhere.

“You watch too many chick flicks.”

“Tut, tut,” Sirius grinned as he playfully flicked my nose—although it wasn’t too playful for me as it was rather painful. Didn’t care for it much, really.

“Don’t tut me when you just gave me the stupidest plan ever,” I snapped, pouting slightly. “For fuck's sake, Sirius, I need a plan, not something that I could get off of any old teenage romantic comedy. I need something Princess Bride, not Gone with the Wind.”

He sent me a quizzical look as he slowly, almost fearfully, asked “you do realize that there was no other girl in the Princess Bride, right?”

“Yes, but he was so hot—even if that whole moustache look really didn’t suit him at all…”

He sighed, nodding slightly in agreement—although reluctant to voice the concord for fear of protecting his “macho-ness”, it’s pathetic the lengths that blokes will go to to protect their “masculinity” only to then do something to totally ruin it… like the amount of time that they spend in from of the mirror, or the amount of money that they spend on hair product… although, Sirius’s hair really is the thing of wonders, even if he does spend about as much money as people spend on rent in a year for his products. Almost makes that indiscretion forgivable, even if he does preen much too much for his own good.

“Well then, seems as if you’re at a bit of an impasse.”

“I wouldn’t call it an impasse, per say-”

“No, you’re right, it’s more so the world’s biggest hurdle that you yourself have constructed.”

“But I don’t want to be cliché.”

“You’re already there, Lils, how much of a difference can my plan really make in your cliché female best mate status?”

I sighed, biting my lip slightly as I took in his words. “So… how does this whole jealousy thing work then?”

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author’s note: OMFG, as soon as I saw that amazing Germany vs. Turkey UEFA semi-finals match I promised myself that I’d force myself to post a chap at least in honor of them—and a Lahm that finally proved himself after a terribly disappointing showing at the 2008 cup… wrote this on my phone on my way back home actually.

I LOVE BALLACK!

anyway, please review—opinions on the fic, soccer, anything are greatly appreciated, lol!

p.s. who else was pissed off about the communications problems ESPN was having? I was actually at a soccer bar when I was watching the game… not the best place for that, someone actually almost threw a stool at the TV until their friend reasoned with them, saying that then we wouldn’t be able to watch when it was finally fixed, lol.