Shiv prompted me with Severus is turning 50 and sulking.
Naked Cake (R; Severus/Lucius/Hermione; 275 words)
"It's not gray, it's silver."
"There's nothing wrong with my eyesight. It's plainly gray."
"You know, you may be right—and I think you're getting a bit paunchy, as well."
"Would you two come in here, already?"
"No. Apparently, I'm too paunchy to move."
"You weren't too fat to move earlier. What's happened?"
"He's gone gray in the meantime. It's a great tragedy."
"Yes, that was the idea. I'm covered—I have cake."
"I'm too paunchy for cake."
"Even for naked cake?"
"Oh no, darling. He's definitely too fat for naked cake. I, on the other ha—oof! That was hardly necessary, but surprisingly vigorous for a graying man of such a paunch."
"Damn it! This is starting to itch! If you don't come in here, I'm going to call Ron. He'll eat anything!"
"Did you hear that? You've made her angry. Why would you do that, even if it is your birthday? She doesn't like make-up sex."
"Ow! Get off, you bastard."
"That was the idea—and all in honour of your natal day, you fat, grumpy, graying twit!"
"Oh, hello, Ronald! Why, yes, I would like a tongue in my—"
"Hermione, be patient. He's in one of his moods."
"Don't you dare call that ginger-haired prat! It's my birthday! And I don't have moods."
"Oh, that's . . . oh, yes, just like that."
"Did she . . . did she start without us?"
"What the hell?"
"Oh! Oh, Merlin!"
"I've spelled away your gray, you vain, maudlin, ungrateful sod. Now get in there!"
"Fuck, oh . . . ."
"If . . . I . . . if I have to—oh!—'thank' myself, you're both—fuck—dead men!"
[Cue rush to door.]