Just Southwest of London was Christchruch, and situated on the edge of River Avon, was where you, Lemon, and Tangerine lived.

Dinner had just been finished, you and Lemon thanking Tangerine for the meal. Now you laid on the couch, your torso between Tangerine's legs as he read a book, one of his hands scratching against your scalp as he did, only stopping when he had to turn a page. Lemon was off in his room, most likely watching Thomas the Tank Engine.

You had a pair of earbuds in, listening to music as you did a bit of reading of your own. You'd found a renewed interest in fantasy books. Tangerine had recommended a few to you when it had been mentioned, including parts of the Harry Potter series. So, there you lay, reading Prisoner of Azkaban, his personal favourite.

You paused reading for a moment, turning your head slightly to look at him.

Tangerine's hair was messy, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he read. He was out of his normal suit, now wearing a West Ham United jersey and black sweats, each article of clothing hugging his frame in all the right places.

You'd kill to see him in that any day.