HP -- Slate-Blue
Title: Slate-Blue
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: G
Word Count: 209
Warnings: lol fluff
Summary: It's important, okay?
Author's Note: Ffff. ilu Sirius.
SLATE-BLUE
“Hold up, you.”
Remus looks startled, and Sirius grabs his face in both hands before he can escape.
Remus blinks. “What?” he asks, bewilderedly, stumbling to stop in his trajectory towards the door.
Sirius leans forward until mere centimeters separate their foreheads, peering into Remus’s eyes.
Remus shifts. “What?” he repeats, more uncertainly still.
Sirius leans in a little closer, his bangs brushing the bridge of Remus’s nose.
“Your eyes,” he says.
There is a pause.
“…what about them?”
“What color would you say that is?” Sirius inquires. “Slate-blue? Or is it more of a… denim color?”
“…did you just tell me my eyes are like jeans?”
“Maybe it’s more of a pristine-mountain-pool-of-clear-cold-spring-water-blue.”
Remus raises an eyebrow, which Sirius feels lifting against his own.
“Why does it make a difference what shade of blue my eyes are?”
Sirius drums his fingers on either side of Remus’s neck. “Because,” he answers, “they’ll need it for the obituary when I love you to death.”
Remus squeaks and tries to flee, but before he can escape, Sirius has tackled him into one of the common room’s armchairs and commenced licking avidly at his face.
James and Peter just sigh and turn a page each of their respective textbooks, blocking out Remus’s squeals.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: G
Word Count: 209
Warnings: lol fluff
Summary: It's important, okay?
Author's Note: Ffff. ilu Sirius.
SLATE-BLUE
“Hold up, you.”
Remus looks startled, and Sirius grabs his face in both hands before he can escape.
Remus blinks. “What?” he asks, bewilderedly, stumbling to stop in his trajectory towards the door.
Sirius leans forward until mere centimeters separate their foreheads, peering into Remus’s eyes.
Remus shifts. “What?” he repeats, more uncertainly still.
Sirius leans in a little closer, his bangs brushing the bridge of Remus’s nose.
“Your eyes,” he says.
There is a pause.
“…what about them?”
“What color would you say that is?” Sirius inquires. “Slate-blue? Or is it more of a… denim color?”
“…did you just tell me my eyes are like jeans?”
“Maybe it’s more of a pristine-mountain-pool-of-clear-cold-spring-water-blue.”
Remus raises an eyebrow, which Sirius feels lifting against his own.
“Why does it make a difference what shade of blue my eyes are?”
Sirius drums his fingers on either side of Remus’s neck. “Because,” he answers, “they’ll need it for the obituary when I love you to death.”
Remus squeaks and tries to flee, but before he can escape, Sirius has tackled him into one of the common room’s armchairs and commenced licking avidly at his face.
James and Peter just sigh and turn a page each of their respective textbooks, blocking out Remus’s squeals.