Fic: Something Sweet
Title: Something Sweet
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG
Words: Just under 1800
Year: Summer before 7th year.
Warning: A little bit fluffy, I suppose. My first fic, sort of. Go easy on me? :D
Summary: On a rainy summer day, the boys find that it is not so bad spending the day inside.
Disclaimer: I only wish I invented them. They aren't mine.
Light and lovely notes fill the air in the Potter’s living room as Remus lies sprawled out on the couch, listening to James’ father’s Muggle swing records. He is alone aside from one other soul. That of Sirius, who is sitting on the couch at his feet, knees brought up to his chest, Remus’ legs warming his toes. Remus is surprised by this particular day. It is summer and also quiet which, with friends like his, is extremely rare. He loves his friends, he really does, but he is quite thankful for the day’s unexpected rain, which made Peter start to sneeze and turn in for a nap and gave James time to sit and write to Lily. It gives Remus time to be alone with his music, his thoughts, and most importantly, Sirius.
He must admit, though, that he is a little concerned about the boy at his feet. Sirius is unusually quiet. He sneaks a peek at his friend, who looks lost in thought. ‘I guess even the loudest of people need some time to just think,’ Remus resolves to himself, though he knows in the back of his mind that something has been changing in Sirius for a while now. He is around more--much more. He can‘t help but smile at this fact. Sirius makes anything fun. He has a lust for life and a vibrancy that is quite infectious. Most people who see him see a young, naïve boy who hasn’t educated himself enough about the world to fear it. Remus sees a beautiful black sheep--or rather, dog in his case--who lives to enjoy the world rather than dwell on a fear of the evil that has infected the pure blood of his very family. Remus is unsure what would happen to him without Sirius near. He is sure it isn’t anything good, so he tries not to dwell on it long.
He lies with his eyes closed, drinking in the sounds of Louis Armstrong tickling his trumpet and the delicious harmony of the Andrews Sisters’ which lull him into a daydream.
He usually hates being stuck inside. He usually hates that he can’t be out running in the fields. He usually hates missing the wind in his hair. He knows the rain is just for the day, but he usually can’t shake the feeling that he may never feel the warm sun beating on his face again. Most of all Sirius Black usually hates how slowly the hours tick by on rainy days. But not this rainy day.
He had been doing things like this with alarming regularity lately.
Things like foregoing a chance to run in the fields or wreak a little havoc with James if he found the opportunity to read part of an all too serious novel of manners over Remus’ shoulder, snickering at lines he found absolutely ridiculous. Remus would just look at him with big, golden eyes that seemed to ask something along the lines of, “What‘s so funny, you utterly mental man?” But some how, not quite.
Things like passing up the chance to indulge Peter on a hunt for some completely ridiculous creature that he suspected stole his socks during the night if he knew he could be somewhere gnawing on a stolen block of chocolate, making a mess of Remus’ newly folded clothes while Remus cocked his head and his eyes, those sparkling gold spheres, narrowed, but never told him, “Stop, you daft git.”
Things like watching Remus listen to swing on the Potter’s couch while knowing the rain gave him a brilliant excuse to drip rainwater onto James‘ bed later that evening.
He isn’t sure why Remus is letting him do all this; letting him annoy him so, but he doesn’t dare say anything that may make it stop.
Sirius rubs the tip nose on his wrist to vanquish a lingering itch. His wrist covered with one of Remus’ favorite jumpers. He told Remus he wanted to borrow it to take off what little chill the rain had brought with it. He hadn’t told Remus that he loved the way it smelt--of mothballs and dust, of chocolate, of Remus. He looks down at the boy laying beside him, trying remember the smell of his hair.
‘I’m acting stupid,’ the boy tries to convince himself while fiddling in his pocket with one of Remus’ chocolate bars, not taking his eyes off his daydreaming friend.
After a few silent songs, Remus feels a twinge in his stomach. He’s hungry. ‘Chocolate,’ he considers a worthy choice to ward off the purr in his stomach.
“I need something sweet,” he exhales after taking in a deep breath. He says this to no one in particular, just anyone who happens to be listening, if anyone. He does not move, though. He is lacking the motivation. The couch too comfortable, the music too pleasant, and the faint smell of Sirius too soothing.
Remus has been a fan of chocolate since he was a young boy. He usually never passed it up when offered, and at Hogwarts he always had a good store of it in his trunk, thanks to his visits to Hogsmeade. He does not discriminate against any type of chocolate. He has a few favorites, but he really isn’t too picky. He just holds a few types close to his heart. Orange chocolate reminded him of his favorite aunt who lived in France. She did not visit often, but when she did, she would always bring him some orange chocolate. He wasn’t the fondest of bittersweet chocolate, though it always reminded him of his mother, standing over the counter in their kitchen, mixing up a batch of cookies for him, while he waited patiently for the moments when she turned around so he could sneak some of the batter. Dark chocolate was his favorite. Sirius would always have a good few bars of dark chocolate stuffed into his pockets after a full moon, because it seemed to soothe Remus best in the hours following the dawn. That was just one of many reasons Remus was grateful that he had his friends, that he had Sirius.
His mind scans over the contents of his chocolate box. ‘Mint, perhaps?’ but he decides against it. ‘Orange? Hmm, haven’t had that in a while… but no.’ He is deep in his decision making and doesn’t feel his friend shift positions. ‘Milk? No, I’m not in a milky mood. I think I’ll stick with good old--’
Remus’ concentration is broken by the sound of crinkling tin foil.
“Holding out on me, Padfoot?” he says with a smile in his voice. Remus still having yet to open his eyes. Sirius still having yet to stop fidgeting in his seat.
Sirius tells himself he wasn’t sure why he was acting so strangely, but he knows. He knows Remus’ strengths. He knows Remus’ weaknesses. He knows Remus knows his as well. He knows every scratch Remus has made in the walls and floor boards of the Shack. He knows every scar the full moon has left on Remus’ body. He knows the only person who knows him better is James, but really only has him beat by a few quite embarrassing mishaps of pranks-gone-wrong from first and second year. He knows he doesn’t feel this way for anyone else. He knows he loves Remus John Lupin.
“I need something sweet,” he hears his friend say.
‘That can be arranged,’ Sirius thinks quickly to himself. He shifts a little to pull out the chocolate bar in his pocket and fingers with it’s seals when he realizes that Remus isn’t going to get up and get anything. He manages the top of the bar open and twists into a more comfortable position in his in his seat while helping him self to a large bite of the chocolate bar. He tries to do so slyly. As slyly as one can in about two cubic feet.
“Holding out on me, Padfoot?”
‘Never.’
This time his friends adjustments do not go unnoticed.
“Mmm… dark,” Remus eventually says quietly into the soft, slightly chapped cushion of Sirius’ lips. Neither make a move to end the kiss. Neither want to. Remus is lost in the taste of faint smoke and fresh dark chocolate on Sirius’ mouth. Sirius is lost once again in the surrounding, intoxicating smell of Remus.
Finally, it is Sirius who reluctantly decides it’s time to breathe. Remus flutters open his eyes for the first time in a good while. His golden eyes find Sirius’ silver ones. He detects a faint glimmer of distress in Sirius’ shining eyes. He can almost see the questions racing through his mind. His long, thin fingers find the soft pale skin of Sirius’ face and then long, dark strands of hair.
Sirius finds himself suddenly very aware of himself and what just happened.
‘Oh, oh Merlin‘s balls. Oh, great Merlin‘s balls, what have I done? What will this do to us? Does Remus hate me now? Oh, Lord, Remus hates me, doesn’t he? Am I going to have to go into hiding? Join a monastery? Would they accept me? What does Remus think of this? Oh, Jesus, what will James think? How many of his stink bombs can my clothes withstand before I need to move to a dessert island? Would Remus come with me to said island? I wonder if Remus thinks I’m a good kisser? Oh, no, his face. What does that face mean? Oh, God, I’m rubbish, aren’t I? He hates me and I am rubbish I know it.’
Sirius has never had such questions flood his mind after kissing anyone else. His eyes search through Remus’ for answers while trying to keep a sure look on his face.
‘What’s happening to me? This is--this is--’
He feels a light tug on the back of his neck.
Remus, unable to think of the right words that will calm his friend, pulls Sirius down into reassuring kiss. He knows his plan is a successful one when he can feel Sirius relax into his arms and kiss him back softly yet deliberately. Remus tangles his fingers in Sirius’ hair, most of which now drapes gracefully over their faces.
‘…so, so right.’
Sirius is sure of himself. As sure as he’s been in days. Weeks. Months. Years? In his life? All of the thoughts filling Sirius’ mind spill out gently until he forgets everything but the feel of Remus’ lips on his own, their hands tangled in each others hair, Remus‘ pale skin against his own.
Sirius decides that the rain is bloody brilliant.
End
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG
Words: Just under 1800
Year: Summer before 7th year.
Warning: A little bit fluffy, I suppose. My first fic, sort of. Go easy on me? :D
Summary: On a rainy summer day, the boys find that it is not so bad spending the day inside.
Disclaimer: I only wish I invented them. They aren't mine.
Light and lovely notes fill the air in the Potter’s living room as Remus lies sprawled out on the couch, listening to James’ father’s Muggle swing records. He is alone aside from one other soul. That of Sirius, who is sitting on the couch at his feet, knees brought up to his chest, Remus’ legs warming his toes. Remus is surprised by this particular day. It is summer and also quiet which, with friends like his, is extremely rare. He loves his friends, he really does, but he is quite thankful for the day’s unexpected rain, which made Peter start to sneeze and turn in for a nap and gave James time to sit and write to Lily. It gives Remus time to be alone with his music, his thoughts, and most importantly, Sirius.
He must admit, though, that he is a little concerned about the boy at his feet. Sirius is unusually quiet. He sneaks a peek at his friend, who looks lost in thought. ‘I guess even the loudest of people need some time to just think,’ Remus resolves to himself, though he knows in the back of his mind that something has been changing in Sirius for a while now. He is around more--much more. He can‘t help but smile at this fact. Sirius makes anything fun. He has a lust for life and a vibrancy that is quite infectious. Most people who see him see a young, naïve boy who hasn’t educated himself enough about the world to fear it. Remus sees a beautiful black sheep--or rather, dog in his case--who lives to enjoy the world rather than dwell on a fear of the evil that has infected the pure blood of his very family. Remus is unsure what would happen to him without Sirius near. He is sure it isn’t anything good, so he tries not to dwell on it long.
He lies with his eyes closed, drinking in the sounds of Louis Armstrong tickling his trumpet and the delicious harmony of the Andrews Sisters’ which lull him into a daydream.
He usually hates being stuck inside. He usually hates that he can’t be out running in the fields. He usually hates missing the wind in his hair. He knows the rain is just for the day, but he usually can’t shake the feeling that he may never feel the warm sun beating on his face again. Most of all Sirius Black usually hates how slowly the hours tick by on rainy days. But not this rainy day.
He had been doing things like this with alarming regularity lately.
Things like foregoing a chance to run in the fields or wreak a little havoc with James if he found the opportunity to read part of an all too serious novel of manners over Remus’ shoulder, snickering at lines he found absolutely ridiculous. Remus would just look at him with big, golden eyes that seemed to ask something along the lines of, “What‘s so funny, you utterly mental man?” But some how, not quite.
Things like passing up the chance to indulge Peter on a hunt for some completely ridiculous creature that he suspected stole his socks during the night if he knew he could be somewhere gnawing on a stolen block of chocolate, making a mess of Remus’ newly folded clothes while Remus cocked his head and his eyes, those sparkling gold spheres, narrowed, but never told him, “Stop, you daft git.”
Things like watching Remus listen to swing on the Potter’s couch while knowing the rain gave him a brilliant excuse to drip rainwater onto James‘ bed later that evening.
He isn’t sure why Remus is letting him do all this; letting him annoy him so, but he doesn’t dare say anything that may make it stop.
Sirius rubs the tip nose on his wrist to vanquish a lingering itch. His wrist covered with one of Remus’ favorite jumpers. He told Remus he wanted to borrow it to take off what little chill the rain had brought with it. He hadn’t told Remus that he loved the way it smelt--of mothballs and dust, of chocolate, of Remus. He looks down at the boy laying beside him, trying remember the smell of his hair.
‘I’m acting stupid,’ the boy tries to convince himself while fiddling in his pocket with one of Remus’ chocolate bars, not taking his eyes off his daydreaming friend.
After a few silent songs, Remus feels a twinge in his stomach. He’s hungry. ‘Chocolate,’ he considers a worthy choice to ward off the purr in his stomach.
“I need something sweet,” he exhales after taking in a deep breath. He says this to no one in particular, just anyone who happens to be listening, if anyone. He does not move, though. He is lacking the motivation. The couch too comfortable, the music too pleasant, and the faint smell of Sirius too soothing.
Remus has been a fan of chocolate since he was a young boy. He usually never passed it up when offered, and at Hogwarts he always had a good store of it in his trunk, thanks to his visits to Hogsmeade. He does not discriminate against any type of chocolate. He has a few favorites, but he really isn’t too picky. He just holds a few types close to his heart. Orange chocolate reminded him of his favorite aunt who lived in France. She did not visit often, but when she did, she would always bring him some orange chocolate. He wasn’t the fondest of bittersweet chocolate, though it always reminded him of his mother, standing over the counter in their kitchen, mixing up a batch of cookies for him, while he waited patiently for the moments when she turned around so he could sneak some of the batter. Dark chocolate was his favorite. Sirius would always have a good few bars of dark chocolate stuffed into his pockets after a full moon, because it seemed to soothe Remus best in the hours following the dawn. That was just one of many reasons Remus was grateful that he had his friends, that he had Sirius.
His mind scans over the contents of his chocolate box. ‘Mint, perhaps?’ but he decides against it. ‘Orange? Hmm, haven’t had that in a while… but no.’ He is deep in his decision making and doesn’t feel his friend shift positions. ‘Milk? No, I’m not in a milky mood. I think I’ll stick with good old--’
Remus’ concentration is broken by the sound of crinkling tin foil.
“Holding out on me, Padfoot?” he says with a smile in his voice. Remus still having yet to open his eyes. Sirius still having yet to stop fidgeting in his seat.
Sirius tells himself he wasn’t sure why he was acting so strangely, but he knows. He knows Remus’ strengths. He knows Remus’ weaknesses. He knows Remus knows his as well. He knows every scratch Remus has made in the walls and floor boards of the Shack. He knows every scar the full moon has left on Remus’ body. He knows the only person who knows him better is James, but really only has him beat by a few quite embarrassing mishaps of pranks-gone-wrong from first and second year. He knows he doesn’t feel this way for anyone else. He knows he loves Remus John Lupin.
“I need something sweet,” he hears his friend say.
‘That can be arranged,’ Sirius thinks quickly to himself. He shifts a little to pull out the chocolate bar in his pocket and fingers with it’s seals when he realizes that Remus isn’t going to get up and get anything. He manages the top of the bar open and twists into a more comfortable position in his in his seat while helping him self to a large bite of the chocolate bar. He tries to do so slyly. As slyly as one can in about two cubic feet.
“Holding out on me, Padfoot?”
‘Never.’
This time his friends adjustments do not go unnoticed.
“Mmm… dark,” Remus eventually says quietly into the soft, slightly chapped cushion of Sirius’ lips. Neither make a move to end the kiss. Neither want to. Remus is lost in the taste of faint smoke and fresh dark chocolate on Sirius’ mouth. Sirius is lost once again in the surrounding, intoxicating smell of Remus.
Finally, it is Sirius who reluctantly decides it’s time to breathe. Remus flutters open his eyes for the first time in a good while. His golden eyes find Sirius’ silver ones. He detects a faint glimmer of distress in Sirius’ shining eyes. He can almost see the questions racing through his mind. His long, thin fingers find the soft pale skin of Sirius’ face and then long, dark strands of hair.
Sirius finds himself suddenly very aware of himself and what just happened.
‘Oh, oh Merlin‘s balls. Oh, great Merlin‘s balls, what have I done? What will this do to us? Does Remus hate me now? Oh, Lord, Remus hates me, doesn’t he? Am I going to have to go into hiding? Join a monastery? Would they accept me? What does Remus think of this? Oh, Jesus, what will James think? How many of his stink bombs can my clothes withstand before I need to move to a dessert island? Would Remus come with me to said island? I wonder if Remus thinks I’m a good kisser? Oh, no, his face. What does that face mean? Oh, God, I’m rubbish, aren’t I? He hates me and I am rubbish I know it.’
Sirius has never had such questions flood his mind after kissing anyone else. His eyes search through Remus’ for answers while trying to keep a sure look on his face.
‘What’s happening to me? This is--this is--’
He feels a light tug on the back of his neck.
Remus, unable to think of the right words that will calm his friend, pulls Sirius down into reassuring kiss. He knows his plan is a successful one when he can feel Sirius relax into his arms and kiss him back softly yet deliberately. Remus tangles his fingers in Sirius’ hair, most of which now drapes gracefully over their faces.
‘…so, so right.’
Sirius is sure of himself. As sure as he’s been in days. Weeks. Months. Years? In his life? All of the thoughts filling Sirius’ mind spill out gently until he forgets everything but the feel of Remus’ lips on his own, their hands tangled in each others hair, Remus‘ pale skin against his own.
Sirius decides that the rain is bloody brilliant.
End