Chapter Text
Remus' left eye twitched dangerously when someone's foot smacked the back of his head. The only way he knew it was a foot and not a hand or an arm was because of the horrifying stench clinging to it. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to take a deep breath—but the bloody stench of musty feet, expired crisps, and—
"Stop farting in my face, Pete!" James screamed at the top of his lungs. Remus glanced in the rearview mirror and gritted his teeth. James was lying on the floor while Peter's legs hung near his face, and Sirius was, for some unknown reason, peering out the window in the back.
Peter cried, "I can't help it! Sirius fed me those crisps—"
"I thought it would be funny," Sirius said with a laugh, then began coughing when Peter farted again. "I expected your stomach could handle it!"
"My tummy's not a dustbin," Peter whined before letting out a loud belch that smelt of old cheese and—
Dizziness washed over Remus. He tried to roll down the windows, but they were still stuck from the accidental Sticking Charm James had placed on them earlier.
The noise, the stench, the cars honking in the distance—everything was making him nauseous. He wanted to stop the car and throw these little fuckers out, but he was the only one who could drive them all on their little road trip to Peter's farmhouse in the country. They could have just Portkeyed to the farm, but as it was a Muggle place and all magical transportation was closed due to a massive magical storm brewing outside, the boys (more like, Remus) had had no other choice but to drive through the countryside.
James and Sirius had been delighted by the thought of going on a road trip as they had never been on one before. Peter had been a bit nervous as usual, owing to the fact that he had younger siblings and had suffered through various road trips before. But Remus was the one stuck as the designated driver all because James and Sirius were purebloods and had no idea how a car worked.
"Hey, what does this do?" Sirius asked suddenly, his head popping up beside Remus'. He poked the ashtray open, and the scent of old cigarette butts, ash, and dried cum wafted to Remus' nose.
"What the fu—Ew, I'm going to throw up," Remus choked out.
He swerved the car to the side of the highway and threw open the door. He tumbled outside onto his hands and knees, the snow cold and soft under him, and gasped loudly as he took deep breaths of the fresh air.
"I'm going to live," Remus told himself, flopping onto his stomach for a bit of rest.
"And he calls us dramatic," James said with a laugh.