Based on a tumblr post that FF isn't going to let me link to because it sucks.

Was supposed to be a drabble, but it didn't cooperate. Though I guess it's still a drabble by my standards, yeah?

It was probably ridiculous (no, it was definitely ridiculous), but she loved, really, really loved, a good trip to Waitrose.

Yes, it was posh, and yes, if she was coming from home, she had to take the tube past basically a dozen Tescos to get there, but sometimes she really needed to wander around and think about the kinds of people that would genuinely buy goose eggs.

She never really came here to buy food (she was not going to pay an extra £3 for muesli for fucks' sake), but there was something soothing about walking around, looking at all the fancy cheeses and wines, wandering around the bakery bar and trying not to drool at the baskets of baguettes and shelves and shelves of bread and cakes.

Her head was still pounding from what had ended up being an incredibly stressful workday when she walked through the glass doors, and she headed straight towards the back of the shop. She'd just walked into the bakery when she spotted what had to be the world's most attractive man standing in front of the artisan bread rack.

She normally never looked twice at the people in this place, figured that if they were genuinely doing their shopping in Waitrose that they were way, way too posh for her anyway, but artisan bread be damned, this bloke was fit. He was still in a suit from, she hoped, work, but his jet black hair was standing up all over his head in a way that told her that he probably wasn't as annoyingly concerned with his aesthetic as she might have suspected that he would be given how expensive that fucking suit looked. He was wearing large, square wire-rimmed glasses that had slid halfway down his nose, he was biting the corner of his lip as he looked at the bread (all the miraculous bread), and she had to keep herself from staring at him because surely he would notice at some point.

She walked over to the cake table, tried to focus her mind on something other than the gorgeous man just a metre away, but she kept finding her eyes drawn to him. She looked up every time that he shifted his weight between his feet, whenever he reached up and ran a hand through his hair or he sighed loudly enough that she could hear him. She was looking at him again (he'd just reached up and ran his hand through his hair) when he stepped forward and started grabbing loaves of bread off the shelf, loaves, and dropping them into the trolley just behind him. He looked at the four loaves he'd selected, scanned the shelf again, and when he turned to push the trolley away from the shelf, his eyes flicked up, met hers across the bakery, and she froze.

He smiled at her immediately, a bright, warm smile that shot straight through her. She grinned awkwardly back, turned on her heel, and ran towards the wine section before she made a fool of herself.

She didn't see him as she moved through the rest of the store (not that she'd looked) until she was standing in produce studying the fruit, laughing to herself about the £6 container of cherries. She looked up when she saw someone moving in her periphery, flushed high on her cheeks when she saw it was him, but he didn't appear to have noticed her, absorbed as he was in the fruit in front of them.

She kept shooting him looks out of the corner of her eye, watched him move along in front of the containers of produce, tried to avoid being caught staring at him. He stepped forward after a few moments and started piling limes into his arms, a few at first, but then easily dozens of little limes until his arms were overflowing with the damn things, and she let herself stare at him in earnest now because what in the ever loving fuck?

He turned like he was going to put the truly ridiculous amount of fruit back into his trolley, when the limes, every single one of them, went tumbling out of his arms and onto the floor.

'Oh my god,' she rushed forward immediately, crouched down, started grabbing limes off the ground, and he looked down at her sheepishly, a light blush on his cheeks, before he knelt down across from her and began to help.

He'd picked up a few before he looked up, and, noticing his movement, she looked up too. His eyes met hers. They were a stunning hazel, rich honeygold in the centre, dark brown around the edges, flecks of green around the irises, and her heart started pounding in her chest when his gaze flicked down to her mouth before his eyes met hers again.

'Sorry,' he said, and his mouth twitched a bit at the corners as he looked at her, 'I'm terrible at pickup limes.'

She burst out laughing, her body shaking so much that all the limes she'd gathered fell out of her arms and she had to reach her hand out and brace herself against his shoulder so that she didn't lose her balance and fall back onto her arse. He laughed watching her, and she shook her head at him, laughter still bubbling out of her, her hand still against his shoulder.

'You're so unbelievably ridiculous,' she said, and she let her hand fall from his shoulder, 'Do you even want all of these?'

He grinned, 'I only need like one or two, but I had to get your attention somehow.'

She shook her head and started scooping limes up off the ground, 'Well, you've got my attention now. What are you going to do with it?'

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him and he grinned, leaned over and dumped the limes he'd picked up into box on the shelf, stuck out his hand, 'Lime James Potter.'

She snorted, dropped her limes into the container, 'Lily Evans. Do you only speak in lime puns, James Potter?'

He laughed, 'I dabble in other fruits as well.'

He stood, reached down and pulled her to her feet. She ignored how amazing his hand felt in hers, raised an eyebrow at him instead, 'Oh?'

He grinned, 'What if I told you I think we'd make a great pear, Evans?'

She laughed in spite of herself, 'Oh my god, you're actually the worst.'

'And yet,' he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement, 'you're still talking to me.'

She laughed, 'I could remedy that if you keep it up.'

He gasped dramatically, touched his hand to his chest, 'You wouldn't!'

She rolled her eyes, 'Are you going to ask for my number or are you going to keep standing there being dramatic?'

His eyes widened a bit and he sunk his hand into his trouser pocket, pulled out his mobile, unlocked it, and passed it to her. 'As much as I would love to stay here and chat,' she said as she typed her number in, 'I do have to get home, so, uh,' she grinned at him as she handed him back his mobile, 'drop me a lime, Potter. We'll get dinner.'

He laughed loudly as she turned to walk away, and she couldn't resist turning around and shooting him one last look. He was smiling widely at her, his eyes were bright with amusement, and he was so damn handsome that she could barely stand it. She shot him a wink, turned back around, and swore that she would never ever make fun of Waitrose again.