Fic: HP, (r/s), ficlet, "the best definition of good intentions"
Title: "the best definition of good intentions"
Word Count: ~600
Author: whitmans_kiss
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild language, sexual situations
Characters; Pairings: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine. I make no profit from this piece of fiction. Title from lyrics from Jason Mraz's "The Dynamo of Volition."
Summary: "You give me the best shag of my life and now you’re making me breakfast; I think that warrants some - form of communication about the circumstances."
The smell of bacon has never failed to wake Sirius Black.
Rolling over, he inhales deeply and smiles into his pillow, the sheets pooling comfortably around his shoulders.
He blinks open his eyes and grunts a question into the mattress, trying to place where the delicious smell is coming from, and when he realizes it is the tiny kitchen of his flat he blinks again and remembers why.
“please, ohfuck, i can’t - this - sirius, siriusiloveyousirius, i - ohfuckyes, yes, - …”
The sweat-slick touch of skin on skin, Remus’ mouth on him, Sirius in him, both of them desperate for the push of hands and mouths and cocks and oh they had been drunker than either would care to admit, but Sirius didn’t care. He’d been wanting it to happen for months now - nearly a year, if he thought about it - and last night it had and soon he would be having bacon along with his Remus. He’d kept up a steady string of girlfriends, thinking he might try to make Remus jealous, but to no avail. None of them had lasted more than a fortnight. None of them had been Remus.
Pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms for the illusion of modesty, Sirius pads out of the bedroom and finds Remus standing at the stove, dressed and definitely the source of the wonderful smell.
“Morning, Moony.” Sirius smiles at him, taking a seat at the table. There is a mug of tea at his place, and he wraps his hands around it to take a sip, privately pleased with the gesture.
“Good morning,” Remus replies, and looks quickly over his shoulder in greeting. “I’ve taken the liberty of using some of your eggs, and I found a rasher of bacon in the refrigerator.”
“Smells good.”
Remus looks over his shoulder again, a smile on the corners of his mouth. It’s so easy between them, Sirius thinks, curling into his mug like a large cat.
“I’m making omelettes,” Remus continues, still facing the stove, and Sirius realizes that Remus is not only properly dressed in last night’s clothes, but he’s showered.
“Thanks, Moon.”
“I found some cheese, as well. Thought I’d put it in for you.”
A thought finally manages to wick its way through the bacon-and-tea haze to the interior of Sirius’ brain, and he emerges enough to voice it. “You know, Moony, we ought to talk about this. About - you know. Things.”
“See, I thought if I just nicked off the mouldy bit around the one corner it’d be all right to -”
“Bollocks, Remus. Don’t change the subject.” Sirius sets his mug down, resting his hands on the table.
Remus turns to look at him, face set, spatula in hand. A bit of egg falls from the handle onto the floor.
“I don’t seem to recall anything we need to discuss.”
If it were anyone else, Sirius would have said the expression on Remus’ face was fear, except that it wasn’t, because this is Remus, and nothing ever frightens Remus.
“What the hell are you talking about, Remus? You give me the best shag of my life and now you’re making me breakfast; I think that warrants some - form of communication about the circumstances -”
The bacon suddenly pops loudly in the frying pan, interrupting him, and the look that isn’t fear intensifies as Remus turns his face away and back to the stove.
“There was a tomato, on the counter, and I thought I’d include it, too. Hope you don’t mind.”
Sirius frowns and looks again at the egg on the floor.
“No, I don’t mind,” he growls, and he’s sure that he never liked bacon at all, anyway.
Word Count: ~600
Author: whitmans_kiss
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild language, sexual situations
Characters; Pairings: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine. I make no profit from this piece of fiction. Title from lyrics from Jason Mraz's "The Dynamo of Volition."
Summary: "You give me the best shag of my life and now you’re making me breakfast; I think that warrants some - form of communication about the circumstances."
The smell of bacon has never failed to wake Sirius Black.
Rolling over, he inhales deeply and smiles into his pillow, the sheets pooling comfortably around his shoulders.
He blinks open his eyes and grunts a question into the mattress, trying to place where the delicious smell is coming from, and when he realizes it is the tiny kitchen of his flat he blinks again and remembers why.
“please, ohfuck, i can’t - this - sirius, siriusiloveyousirius, i - ohfuckyes, yes, - …”
The sweat-slick touch of skin on skin, Remus’ mouth on him, Sirius in him, both of them desperate for the push of hands and mouths and cocks and oh they had been drunker than either would care to admit, but Sirius didn’t care. He’d been wanting it to happen for months now - nearly a year, if he thought about it - and last night it had and soon he would be having bacon along with his Remus. He’d kept up a steady string of girlfriends, thinking he might try to make Remus jealous, but to no avail. None of them had lasted more than a fortnight. None of them had been Remus.
Pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms for the illusion of modesty, Sirius pads out of the bedroom and finds Remus standing at the stove, dressed and definitely the source of the wonderful smell.
“Morning, Moony.” Sirius smiles at him, taking a seat at the table. There is a mug of tea at his place, and he wraps his hands around it to take a sip, privately pleased with the gesture.
“Good morning,” Remus replies, and looks quickly over his shoulder in greeting. “I’ve taken the liberty of using some of your eggs, and I found a rasher of bacon in the refrigerator.”
“Smells good.”
Remus looks over his shoulder again, a smile on the corners of his mouth. It’s so easy between them, Sirius thinks, curling into his mug like a large cat.
“I’m making omelettes,” Remus continues, still facing the stove, and Sirius realizes that Remus is not only properly dressed in last night’s clothes, but he’s showered.
“Thanks, Moon.”
“I found some cheese, as well. Thought I’d put it in for you.”
A thought finally manages to wick its way through the bacon-and-tea haze to the interior of Sirius’ brain, and he emerges enough to voice it. “You know, Moony, we ought to talk about this. About - you know. Things.”
“See, I thought if I just nicked off the mouldy bit around the one corner it’d be all right to -”
“Bollocks, Remus. Don’t change the subject.” Sirius sets his mug down, resting his hands on the table.
Remus turns to look at him, face set, spatula in hand. A bit of egg falls from the handle onto the floor.
“I don’t seem to recall anything we need to discuss.”
If it were anyone else, Sirius would have said the expression on Remus’ face was fear, except that it wasn’t, because this is Remus, and nothing ever frightens Remus.
“What the hell are you talking about, Remus? You give me the best shag of my life and now you’re making me breakfast; I think that warrants some - form of communication about the circumstances -”
The bacon suddenly pops loudly in the frying pan, interrupting him, and the look that isn’t fear intensifies as Remus turns his face away and back to the stove.
“There was a tomato, on the counter, and I thought I’d include it, too. Hope you don’t mind.”
Sirius frowns and looks again at the egg on the floor.
“No, I don’t mind,” he growls, and he’s sure that he never liked bacon at all, anyway.