In The Deep Bosom Of The Ocean Buried (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blanketforts Day 21)
Jan. 29th, 2006 01:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosie_ruesTitle: In The Deep Bosom Of The Ocean Buried
Rating: PG-13 for fantasies and nekkidness. :)
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 2506
Prompt: Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
-William Shakespeare
Notes: Sirius broods while he waits for Remus to come home. Remus has had a terrible journey. I was vaguely intending to make this angsty but I've had a shitty few days and my muse insisted on fluff. Can't say I mind too much :) Title from Richard III.
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Remus had been gone for thirty-two hours, sixteen minutes and about fifteen seconds, depending which clock Sirius looked at. In that time Sirius had cleaned the flat (though admittedly not until this morning when he realised Remus would be sarcastic about it); had five showers (three of them cold, because the hot water was dodgy for some reason); turned into Padfoot and back six times because he didn’t feel comfortable as either; and tried to read Maurice. He’d laughed at the bit where the teacher drew dirty pictures on the beach but he’d given up halfway through because he was bored of the way Clive wittered and didn’t see why Maurice couldn’t just shag him and move on. Moony’s bookmark had fallen out but he’d put it back in roughly the right place.
Thirty-two hours, seventeen minutes and sixteen seconds.
It had stopped snowing. The sky was still heavy with clouds and the dusk was cold and grey. Already the slushy snow was freezing to the roofs again and wet streets below were gleaming darkly with frost. The Muggle radio had been talking about black ice, which amused him in a dark way. It made him think of Narcissa, always so cold. She had what she wanted now, the husband and the secure ground to stand on. Perhaps she had always been sharper than the rest of them. Where had hot rage carried him? A cold flat and a cold demeanour towards the one he loved. Fire meant betrayal, cruelty and recklessness. Perhaps he should try to be ice.
He pressed his forehead against the cold window and let the cold sink into him. He closed his eyes as his forehead went numb.
Where was Remus? Surely he didn’t have to spend over thirty-two hours with his dad. What on earth did they talk about? He tried to imagine talking to his own father, but all he could imagine were cold silences. They had talked once, he was sure, before he went to Hogwarts. Surely his father had spoken to him at some point in his childhood. He couldn’t remember and it hardly mattered any more. His father was dead and buried outside Azkaban.
It was easier to imagine talking to Mr Potter. Even then, once they’d discussed motorbikes for a while, and he’d shown off the spells he wasn’t supposed to have put on Marianne, he’d be bored.
It wasn’t even as if Remus lived at home any more. He might insist he did, but he spent all his time here. If Sirius had to find a way to keep the Muggles striking until Remus stopped being stubborn, so be it.
Thirty-two hours, nineteen minutes and three seconds.
He wanted Remus here. He wasn’t generous, or kind, or sharing, or any such paltry Hufflepuff quality. He was a Black and Remus was his and he wanted him here. Now.
In his mind he could here Peter snickering, and chanting, “Padfoot’s pouting. Pouting Paddy.”
Sirius drew his lower lip in and opened his eyes. The window was steamed up from his breath and he pulled away, annoyed. Even his breath was too hot. He squashed himself onto the windowsill a bit more, drawing his knees up, and pressed his cheek to a new bit of window.
Of course, if Remus did move in, he would have a new problem. Stopping himself from touching Remus did colourful things to his sanity at the best of times. Now Remus was trying to provoke him, it was almost impossible. Remus was his and it was perfectly natural to want to touch him. Just because he wanted something, it didn’t mean it was right for him to have it. His family wanted to exterminate all Muggles from the face of the planet. Tough luck all round.
He had a nasty feeling there might be a flaw in his logic somewhere. Remus would know where but the whole point was not to discuss this subject with Remus.
Logic was for Muggles. He was a wizard. He could live without it.
Thirty-two hours, twenty minutes and forty-one seconds.
Part of the problem was that he had forgotten how much skin Remus had. It had been so long since he’d been allowed to see anything except long sleeves and high-necked tops that he’d forgotten there was skin under all that cotton. How was he meant to cope when Remus suddenly decided that he didn’t need to wear anything between bed and the shower any more?
It would give him a heart attack, and then Remus would be sorry. Maybe he should tell him that. It might make him stop.
Sirius didn’t want him to stop.
Right. Not a good thought. Curtains. He could get up before Remus and open the curtains. That would stop him. Of course, that meant getting up far too early. Why couldn’t the daft bloke just stay in bed until half eight, like any one sane? Why couldn’t he stay in bed with him? He’d only had a few chances to wake up with Remus, odd days when either Peter or James was away and the other one had felt generous enough to sleep in the common room. He liked Remus in the morning. He was warm and clingy and used long words before he was awake enough to remember exactly what they meant. He had a tiny stash of precious memories that began with a sleep-muzzy Remus wrapping himself around Sirius before either of them were quite awake. He missed morning kisses, slow and full of laughter.
Bad thoughts. New subject.
Inevitably, though, he thought of Remus a few mornings ago, partway through his morning wank. He knew Remus had done it to tempt him but he had no idea if he knew just how tempting he was, flushed and shameless, arching off the bed. Sirius had just wanted to drop to his knees and throw the blanket aside before taking Remus into his mouth. Nobody else had the right to make Remus come, not even Remus himself. Nobody else would appreciate it: the little breathy noises Remus made when he was trying to be quiet and the way he shook when he finally came, all that sweat-damp skin quivering.
Damn, this windowsill was getting uncomfortable. Sirius dropped one leg down onto the floor and sighed in relief as some of the pressure on his cock eased a little. Damn. He was going to need another cold shower. For a moment he considered just shoving his hand into his jeans right now but he was just about sensible enough to remember the open curtains and the street below.
A key clicked in the latch.
Fuck.
Sirius stared at the door, breath coming wildly. How was he meant to resist Moony right now?
The door creaked open and Remus shuffled in. It had got dark while he sat by the window, and Sirius could barely see him.
“Why’s there no light?” Remus asked, sounding annoyed.
“Something’s wrong with the elektrissummy,” said Sirius, shaping his words carefully.
“Fuck. Lumos.”
As the light flared, Sirius felt his jaw drop. Remus was coated in brown ash from head to foot. Even his hair was thick with it.
“What happened to you?” Sirius demanded, swinging off the windowsill.
Remus scowled at him. “They said the Floo was fixed. They said they’d found an alternative power source.”
Sirius stopped. Something smelt terrible, like shit and sewers and burnt out cauldrons. “Yeah? What?”
“Manure,” Remus said tightly.
Sirius stepped back slightly. “That would explain the smell, then.”
“Yes,” Remus said. “That would explain the smell.” He took a stop forward.
“Stop!” Sirius yelped. He might not be as house proud as James, but he’d cleaned. He’d be damned if he let Remus trail ash all over a tidy flat.
Remus turned to glare at him. “What?”
“I vacuumed,” Sirius said, and then winced at how stupid it sounded.
“Congratulations. Can I get to the bathroom now?”
“Has it gone through your clothes?” Sirius asked. “Or is it just on the outside?”
“Some of it has slipped down the back of my neck. It itches.” He took another step.
“Strip!” Sirius barked.
Remus blinked. “Um.”
“Strip! Clothes off! No, wait!” He lifted his wand. “Accio black sack.”
A roll of rubbish bags shot out of the kitchen.
“I am not throwing my clothes away.”
“You have to put them somewhere until we get them to the laundry,” Sirius said reasonably. “Now strip.” He managed to get the sack open and walked over to stand beside Remus, holding it open.
Remus stared at him.
“What?” Sirius asked.
“You can’t just order me to take my clothes off.”
“Why not?” Sirius demanded. “You’ve been walking round this place like it was a nudist beach all week.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
Remus looked away. “Because.”
Sirius sighed and put the sack down, wrinkling his nose. Moony really did stink. “I’m going to run a bath. You are going to take all your clothes off and put them in this sack. Then you are going to take a bath. Right.”
“I-”
“Good.” He backed away, waving his wand at the curtains until they hissed shut, and summoning candles out of the kitchen. He stuck two onto the top of the loo and turned the water on, squirting in a generous amount of bubblebath from the sailor-shaped bottle. The water was cold, but he could deal with that. He stepped out of the bathroom and stared at Remus.
He hadn’t moved, and he was still dressed.
“Clothes,” Sirius said. “Off.”
“Padfoot. Can’t you just put newspaper down?”
“I want you to leave the smell over there, too. How did you get covered in the stuff?”
Remus winced. “It seems manure blocks aren’t actually a very reliable fuel source for this sort of thing. It broke down. Noisily. I’ve spent the last three hours stuck inside a blast furnace in Surrey. I’ve been holding cooling charms over three people, one of whom was six years old and claustrophobic, and I’ve just apparated home. I want a bath.”
Home. Sirius felt guilt twist around the glow that produced. He’d been brooding while Remus had a shitty day. That wasn’t right.
“I just want you to leave your clothes by the door,” he said gently. “Then come here. Please.”
Moony’s shoulders came up defensively.
“Right,” Sirius said. “I want you undressed by the time I’ve turned the water off. Okay.”
The bath was perhaps a little overfull, but he took time to wave his wand at the water to heat it.
Remus was still dressed.
Sirius sighed and pointed his wand at him. “Divesto totalem!”
“Fuck!” Remus squeaked as his clothes whirled off. “Shit. Finite incantatem.”
“Too late,” Sirius said smugly. Remus’ clothes were spilling out of the sack, and Remus himself was naked and shivering, scattering ash with every movement. He had crossed his hands over his cock and was staring at Sirius as if he’d been betrayed.
“Cold,” he said.
“Then get in the bath, you prat.” Sirius could see his goosebumps from here.
Remus took a step forward.
Sirius bit his lip, worried. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like being naked,” Remus said primly.
Sirius snorted. “You’ve been flaunting yourself at me all week.”
“That’s different,” mumbled Remus.
“Why?”
Remus stopped and then said, very softly, “I don’t feel ugly when you’re looking at me.”
Sirius felt his fists clench. “You’re not ugly. You’re gorgeous. And I am looking at you.”
Remus shook his head. “You’re looking at me like I’m covered in shit. I meant looking.”
“Oh,” Sirius said softly, and then winced as his erection revived suddenly. He walked forward and peeled one of Remus’ hands away, wrapping his fingers around it. “Moony, mate, you are covered in shit. You’re still gorgeous. Now, come with me.”
Remus gave him a sceptical look but let Sirius draw him across the room, shivering. He dipped a tentative toe into the bathwater and then smiled. “Warm.”
“It ought to be,” Sirius said, and blinked in surprise as Remus slithered under the bubbles at speed. He submerged himself completely, then came up blinking.
“Why’s the flat so cold?”
“Heating’s stopped.”
“What’s wrong with warming charms?”
Sirius shrugged. “I was in an icy sort of mood. Black ice.”
Remus gave him a thoughtful look. It looked completely incongruous on a face wreathed in bubbles. Sirius grinned at him and perched on the loo. “How was the rest of the weekend?”
“Okay. Dad’s coping without me.” He sounding disgruntled.
Sirius grinned. “I’ll just have to keep you, then. Make the place look pretty.”
“Ha, ha.” Remus sank back, batting bubbles away from his face. “Sorry to be whiny.”
“Shitty journeys are a good excuse. Better yet?”
“Mmm.”
“Good,” Sirius said and eyed him. He was almost hidden by bubbles but Sirius could see the lines of his ribs and the small bumps at the end of his collarbones. There was something about the curve of his neck that belonged right here, in Sirius’ bathroom where no one else would ever see it.
“Now you’re looking at me.”
“Am I?”
“Mmm.”
“Don’t go to sleep,” Sirius said. “The gravediggers are on strike so I’m buggered if you drown.”
“How do you know?”
“Been listening to Muggle radio.”
“Were you bored?”
“I am never bored,” Sirius said, mock-affronted. “I was merely broadening my cultural knowledge. You look a bit happier.”
Remus slithered round in the bath, crossing his arms on the edge. “Are you looking after me again?”
“I don’t-”
“Yes, you do.” He smiled. “I like it.”
Sirius opened his mouth, and then closed it. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. At last he said, helplessly, “Moony.”
Remus smiled, his eyes soft and dark in the candlelight.
Sirius stood up, thinking of tea and dinner and heating charms. Then he gave in to impulse and ducked down beside the bath. He kissed Remus before he’d realised himself what he wanted.
Remus gasped and parted his lips, taking the kiss. Sirius felt wet arms wrap around his neck and smiled into the kiss, slowing it. Heat settled through him as Remus sighed gently. He opened his eyes to see that Remus had closed his, his wet eyelashes drifting against his cheeks. He looked as if he was dreaming and Sirius gathered him closer, brushing his tongue across Remus’ lips.
When he pulled away Remus blinked at him. Sirius released him reluctantly and he slid back into the bath a few inches before he caught himself, pink fingers wrapping around the rim. Sirius stared at him, feeling dazed himself, and then stood up.
“I-” he started. “Um, make you tea. Then warming charms. And, er, going to make soup. For dinner, that is.”
Remus smiled. “Domesticated.”
Sirius snorted. “I’m still less of a girl than Prongs.”
“Give it time.”
As he turned out of the bathroom Remus said, “Sirius?”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you too.”
Sirius headed for the kitchen, not even trying to hold in his smile.
Rating: PG-13 for fantasies and nekkidness. :)
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 2506
Prompt: Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
-William Shakespeare
Notes: Sirius broods while he waits for Remus to come home. Remus has had a terrible journey. I was vaguely intending to make this angsty but I've had a shitty few days and my muse insisted on fluff. Can't say I mind too much :) Title from Richard III.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21
Remus had been gone for thirty-two hours, sixteen minutes and about fifteen seconds, depending which clock Sirius looked at. In that time Sirius had cleaned the flat (though admittedly not until this morning when he realised Remus would be sarcastic about it); had five showers (three of them cold, because the hot water was dodgy for some reason); turned into Padfoot and back six times because he didn’t feel comfortable as either; and tried to read Maurice. He’d laughed at the bit where the teacher drew dirty pictures on the beach but he’d given up halfway through because he was bored of the way Clive wittered and didn’t see why Maurice couldn’t just shag him and move on. Moony’s bookmark had fallen out but he’d put it back in roughly the right place.
Thirty-two hours, seventeen minutes and sixteen seconds.
It had stopped snowing. The sky was still heavy with clouds and the dusk was cold and grey. Already the slushy snow was freezing to the roofs again and wet streets below were gleaming darkly with frost. The Muggle radio had been talking about black ice, which amused him in a dark way. It made him think of Narcissa, always so cold. She had what she wanted now, the husband and the secure ground to stand on. Perhaps she had always been sharper than the rest of them. Where had hot rage carried him? A cold flat and a cold demeanour towards the one he loved. Fire meant betrayal, cruelty and recklessness. Perhaps he should try to be ice.
He pressed his forehead against the cold window and let the cold sink into him. He closed his eyes as his forehead went numb.
Where was Remus? Surely he didn’t have to spend over thirty-two hours with his dad. What on earth did they talk about? He tried to imagine talking to his own father, but all he could imagine were cold silences. They had talked once, he was sure, before he went to Hogwarts. Surely his father had spoken to him at some point in his childhood. He couldn’t remember and it hardly mattered any more. His father was dead and buried outside Azkaban.
It was easier to imagine talking to Mr Potter. Even then, once they’d discussed motorbikes for a while, and he’d shown off the spells he wasn’t supposed to have put on Marianne, he’d be bored.
It wasn’t even as if Remus lived at home any more. He might insist he did, but he spent all his time here. If Sirius had to find a way to keep the Muggles striking until Remus stopped being stubborn, so be it.
Thirty-two hours, nineteen minutes and three seconds.
He wanted Remus here. He wasn’t generous, or kind, or sharing, or any such paltry Hufflepuff quality. He was a Black and Remus was his and he wanted him here. Now.
In his mind he could here Peter snickering, and chanting, “Padfoot’s pouting. Pouting Paddy.”
Sirius drew his lower lip in and opened his eyes. The window was steamed up from his breath and he pulled away, annoyed. Even his breath was too hot. He squashed himself onto the windowsill a bit more, drawing his knees up, and pressed his cheek to a new bit of window.
Of course, if Remus did move in, he would have a new problem. Stopping himself from touching Remus did colourful things to his sanity at the best of times. Now Remus was trying to provoke him, it was almost impossible. Remus was his and it was perfectly natural to want to touch him. Just because he wanted something, it didn’t mean it was right for him to have it. His family wanted to exterminate all Muggles from the face of the planet. Tough luck all round.
He had a nasty feeling there might be a flaw in his logic somewhere. Remus would know where but the whole point was not to discuss this subject with Remus.
Logic was for Muggles. He was a wizard. He could live without it.
Thirty-two hours, twenty minutes and forty-one seconds.
Part of the problem was that he had forgotten how much skin Remus had. It had been so long since he’d been allowed to see anything except long sleeves and high-necked tops that he’d forgotten there was skin under all that cotton. How was he meant to cope when Remus suddenly decided that he didn’t need to wear anything between bed and the shower any more?
It would give him a heart attack, and then Remus would be sorry. Maybe he should tell him that. It might make him stop.
Sirius didn’t want him to stop.
Right. Not a good thought. Curtains. He could get up before Remus and open the curtains. That would stop him. Of course, that meant getting up far too early. Why couldn’t the daft bloke just stay in bed until half eight, like any one sane? Why couldn’t he stay in bed with him? He’d only had a few chances to wake up with Remus, odd days when either Peter or James was away and the other one had felt generous enough to sleep in the common room. He liked Remus in the morning. He was warm and clingy and used long words before he was awake enough to remember exactly what they meant. He had a tiny stash of precious memories that began with a sleep-muzzy Remus wrapping himself around Sirius before either of them were quite awake. He missed morning kisses, slow and full of laughter.
Bad thoughts. New subject.
Inevitably, though, he thought of Remus a few mornings ago, partway through his morning wank. He knew Remus had done it to tempt him but he had no idea if he knew just how tempting he was, flushed and shameless, arching off the bed. Sirius had just wanted to drop to his knees and throw the blanket aside before taking Remus into his mouth. Nobody else had the right to make Remus come, not even Remus himself. Nobody else would appreciate it: the little breathy noises Remus made when he was trying to be quiet and the way he shook when he finally came, all that sweat-damp skin quivering.
Damn, this windowsill was getting uncomfortable. Sirius dropped one leg down onto the floor and sighed in relief as some of the pressure on his cock eased a little. Damn. He was going to need another cold shower. For a moment he considered just shoving his hand into his jeans right now but he was just about sensible enough to remember the open curtains and the street below.
A key clicked in the latch.
Fuck.
Sirius stared at the door, breath coming wildly. How was he meant to resist Moony right now?
The door creaked open and Remus shuffled in. It had got dark while he sat by the window, and Sirius could barely see him.
“Why’s there no light?” Remus asked, sounding annoyed.
“Something’s wrong with the elektrissummy,” said Sirius, shaping his words carefully.
“Fuck. Lumos.”
As the light flared, Sirius felt his jaw drop. Remus was coated in brown ash from head to foot. Even his hair was thick with it.
“What happened to you?” Sirius demanded, swinging off the windowsill.
Remus scowled at him. “They said the Floo was fixed. They said they’d found an alternative power source.”
Sirius stopped. Something smelt terrible, like shit and sewers and burnt out cauldrons. “Yeah? What?”
“Manure,” Remus said tightly.
Sirius stepped back slightly. “That would explain the smell, then.”
“Yes,” Remus said. “That would explain the smell.” He took a stop forward.
“Stop!” Sirius yelped. He might not be as house proud as James, but he’d cleaned. He’d be damned if he let Remus trail ash all over a tidy flat.
Remus turned to glare at him. “What?”
“I vacuumed,” Sirius said, and then winced at how stupid it sounded.
“Congratulations. Can I get to the bathroom now?”
“Has it gone through your clothes?” Sirius asked. “Or is it just on the outside?”
“Some of it has slipped down the back of my neck. It itches.” He took another step.
“Strip!” Sirius barked.
Remus blinked. “Um.”
“Strip! Clothes off! No, wait!” He lifted his wand. “Accio black sack.”
A roll of rubbish bags shot out of the kitchen.
“I am not throwing my clothes away.”
“You have to put them somewhere until we get them to the laundry,” Sirius said reasonably. “Now strip.” He managed to get the sack open and walked over to stand beside Remus, holding it open.
Remus stared at him.
“What?” Sirius asked.
“You can’t just order me to take my clothes off.”
“Why not?” Sirius demanded. “You’ve been walking round this place like it was a nudist beach all week.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
Remus looked away. “Because.”
Sirius sighed and put the sack down, wrinkling his nose. Moony really did stink. “I’m going to run a bath. You are going to take all your clothes off and put them in this sack. Then you are going to take a bath. Right.”
“I-”
“Good.” He backed away, waving his wand at the curtains until they hissed shut, and summoning candles out of the kitchen. He stuck two onto the top of the loo and turned the water on, squirting in a generous amount of bubblebath from the sailor-shaped bottle. The water was cold, but he could deal with that. He stepped out of the bathroom and stared at Remus.
He hadn’t moved, and he was still dressed.
“Clothes,” Sirius said. “Off.”
“Padfoot. Can’t you just put newspaper down?”
“I want you to leave the smell over there, too. How did you get covered in the stuff?”
Remus winced. “It seems manure blocks aren’t actually a very reliable fuel source for this sort of thing. It broke down. Noisily. I’ve spent the last three hours stuck inside a blast furnace in Surrey. I’ve been holding cooling charms over three people, one of whom was six years old and claustrophobic, and I’ve just apparated home. I want a bath.”
Home. Sirius felt guilt twist around the glow that produced. He’d been brooding while Remus had a shitty day. That wasn’t right.
“I just want you to leave your clothes by the door,” he said gently. “Then come here. Please.”
Moony’s shoulders came up defensively.
“Right,” Sirius said. “I want you undressed by the time I’ve turned the water off. Okay.”
The bath was perhaps a little overfull, but he took time to wave his wand at the water to heat it.
Remus was still dressed.
Sirius sighed and pointed his wand at him. “Divesto totalem!”
“Fuck!” Remus squeaked as his clothes whirled off. “Shit. Finite incantatem.”
“Too late,” Sirius said smugly. Remus’ clothes were spilling out of the sack, and Remus himself was naked and shivering, scattering ash with every movement. He had crossed his hands over his cock and was staring at Sirius as if he’d been betrayed.
“Cold,” he said.
“Then get in the bath, you prat.” Sirius could see his goosebumps from here.
Remus took a step forward.
Sirius bit his lip, worried. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like being naked,” Remus said primly.
Sirius snorted. “You’ve been flaunting yourself at me all week.”
“That’s different,” mumbled Remus.
“Why?”
Remus stopped and then said, very softly, “I don’t feel ugly when you’re looking at me.”
Sirius felt his fists clench. “You’re not ugly. You’re gorgeous. And I am looking at you.”
Remus shook his head. “You’re looking at me like I’m covered in shit. I meant looking.”
“Oh,” Sirius said softly, and then winced as his erection revived suddenly. He walked forward and peeled one of Remus’ hands away, wrapping his fingers around it. “Moony, mate, you are covered in shit. You’re still gorgeous. Now, come with me.”
Remus gave him a sceptical look but let Sirius draw him across the room, shivering. He dipped a tentative toe into the bathwater and then smiled. “Warm.”
“It ought to be,” Sirius said, and blinked in surprise as Remus slithered under the bubbles at speed. He submerged himself completely, then came up blinking.
“Why’s the flat so cold?”
“Heating’s stopped.”
“What’s wrong with warming charms?”
Sirius shrugged. “I was in an icy sort of mood. Black ice.”
Remus gave him a thoughtful look. It looked completely incongruous on a face wreathed in bubbles. Sirius grinned at him and perched on the loo. “How was the rest of the weekend?”
“Okay. Dad’s coping without me.” He sounding disgruntled.
Sirius grinned. “I’ll just have to keep you, then. Make the place look pretty.”
“Ha, ha.” Remus sank back, batting bubbles away from his face. “Sorry to be whiny.”
“Shitty journeys are a good excuse. Better yet?”
“Mmm.”
“Good,” Sirius said and eyed him. He was almost hidden by bubbles but Sirius could see the lines of his ribs and the small bumps at the end of his collarbones. There was something about the curve of his neck that belonged right here, in Sirius’ bathroom where no one else would ever see it.
“Now you’re looking at me.”
“Am I?”
“Mmm.”
“Don’t go to sleep,” Sirius said. “The gravediggers are on strike so I’m buggered if you drown.”
“How do you know?”
“Been listening to Muggle radio.”
“Were you bored?”
“I am never bored,” Sirius said, mock-affronted. “I was merely broadening my cultural knowledge. You look a bit happier.”
Remus slithered round in the bath, crossing his arms on the edge. “Are you looking after me again?”
“I don’t-”
“Yes, you do.” He smiled. “I like it.”
Sirius opened his mouth, and then closed it. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. At last he said, helplessly, “Moony.”
Remus smiled, his eyes soft and dark in the candlelight.
Sirius stood up, thinking of tea and dinner and heating charms. Then he gave in to impulse and ducked down beside the bath. He kissed Remus before he’d realised himself what he wanted.
Remus gasped and parted his lips, taking the kiss. Sirius felt wet arms wrap around his neck and smiled into the kiss, slowing it. Heat settled through him as Remus sighed gently. He opened his eyes to see that Remus had closed his, his wet eyelashes drifting against his cheeks. He looked as if he was dreaming and Sirius gathered him closer, brushing his tongue across Remus’ lips.
When he pulled away Remus blinked at him. Sirius released him reluctantly and he slid back into the bath a few inches before he caught himself, pink fingers wrapping around the rim. Sirius stared at him, feeling dazed himself, and then stood up.
“I-” he started. “Um, make you tea. Then warming charms. And, er, going to make soup. For dinner, that is.”
Remus smiled. “Domesticated.”
Sirius snorted. “I’m still less of a girl than Prongs.”
“Give it time.”
As he turned out of the bathroom Remus said, “Sirius?”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you too.”
Sirius headed for the kitchen, not even trying to hold in his smile.
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Date: 2006-01-29 09:26 am (UTC)I wanted Sirius to initiate that kiss. It seemed like the right end to the possessive arc running through this.
I'm glad you liked this :) Thanks for the comment.