salute [h.s]

harry and piper made a fool of themselves in front of the other

the five times that harry and piper made a fool of themselves in front of the other

1.

Piper, on principle, sort of hated cleaning. She didn't mind tidying up after herself or doing the dishes or those sorts of things. She felt somewhat responsible for those kinds of messes (okay, totally responsible but let's not squabble over it). What she hated was the things that she didn't directly cause, namely dust. Scientifically she recognized that the dust situation was also her fault because they were her skin cells after all but it was like the never-ending story. She'd dust and then a couple days later, there it was again.

The other thing she hated about cleaning? Vacuums were fucking loud. It was an assaultive sort of noise that she found vaguely offensive. It meant she had to turn her music up even louder which inevitably led to Clive banging on the floor to get her to turn it down, which she never did. With their relationship as flat mates already quite tenuous because Clive was a member of a crime syndicate, it could only lead to negative consequences.

And another thing — cleaning was a work out. She was usually sweating within five minutes, wiping sweat from her brow in between sweeps of the mop on the kitchen floor. It was so annoying because after cleaning the tub, she had to get it dirty again cleaning herself. Where was the logic!

Basically, she hated cleaning but it was a necessary evil in her life which was why she was blasting Beyoncé so loud that Clive was having a fit upstairs, and she was vacuuming wearing only her knickers and a crop top to try and keep her body from overheating. So far, the system was working and the flat was actually getting cleaned. And she was sort of having fun.

"Now everybody asks me why I'm smiling out from ear to ear — but I know... it's gonna take a little work."

The joy of the vacuum and the music being so loud was the she could sing along, unashamed of how awful her voice was or how often it went off pitch. Forget the singing into a hairbrush in front of a mirror — there was nothing more disinhibiting than dancing with her vacuum cleaner as she belted out the words.

She pushed the vacuum over the carpeted floors, shaking her hips on the forward movement and doing a little cha-cha as she dragged it back. The vacuum was an unresponsive dance partner and she had to lead but it would do.

"Boy your lips taste like a night of champagne — as I kiss you again and again and again and again."

She bent over to stick the vacuum under the couch and wiggled her bum to the music, humming the chorus as she swept the machine back and forth to pick up whatever dust bunnies had been living under the furniture. She did the same with the table, lifting up a book that had fallen and setting it on the surface.

She got into the corners of the room as the chorus' key changed steadily, getting higher and higher and testing Piper's poor range of singing ability. She knew she wasn't hitting the notes but there was something sort of freeing about just going for it, not holding back.

"Baby, 'cause you're the one that I love — baby, you're the one that I neeeeeed! You're the only man I see — baby, baby it's youuu—Ahh!"

She screeched as she jumped a foot in the air at the figure who was standing in her open doorway. Harry was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest and his ankles crossed. He was smirking at her, a bright glint in his eyes that hinted at amusement. When she pressed a hand to her chest and snapped, "what the fuck, Harry!" his smirked widened into a proper, cheek-dimpling grin.

"Afternoon, petal," he greeted, his eyes running over her body, to the large strip of her stomach that was exposed between the crop top and her knickers, and then to her long legs, and then back up to the curve of her neck that was visible since her hair was tied on top of her head.