Drinking [R/S Bingo 1/5]
Title: Drinking
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 805
Pairings: Remus/Sirius
Warnings: Swearing, drinking.
Summary: Sirius overindulges after they win the Quidditch Cup.
Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to JK Rowling.
Drinking.
Remus was, despite appearances as a prefect, the boy that Mr and Mrs Potter most approved of their son socialising with, and one of Lily Evans' best friends, able to put a bottle of Firewhiskey away with more ease than any of the other Marauders. Surprisingly, Peter was next most able to hold his liquor, and James' Quidditch playing days gave him an edge over Sirius. They couldn't explain it, really; Remus was the slimmest of them, and while he was only two inches shorter than Sirius, did not have the body type for drinking in copious amounts. And yet he did.
“Three beer queers, you reckon?” Peter gestured to their friends, who's gait was the least steady Remus thought he'd ever seen. The brunette's snort was as expressive as any response he could have made, so Peter corrected himself. “Prongs, I mean. I know what you and Padfoot get up to behind those hangings.”
Remus couldn't resist. “Not just behind the hangings,” he said, taking a sip of the Firewhiskey in front of him. “In the bathroom, and broom cupboards, and -”
Peter held up a hand. “Stop. I don't want to be in Defence and trying to figure out which desk you bent Sirius over,” he said, cringing.
“Alright, alright,” another sip, another grin. “It wasn't the Defence classroom, anyway. It was the Charms one.”
“Moony!” Peter mimed retching. “I'm going to go find Mary MacDonald.”
“Uh huh. I'm going to go rescue my boyfriend before Prongs proves you right.”
Setting his glass down on the table, he weaved his way through the small crowd of fifth, sixth and seventh years which filled the Gryffindor common room, where James was very loudly informing a fifth year girl that the most important position in the team was Chaser, and he knew this because he was Quidditch Captain. Another unbidden but not unwelcome grin ghosted across Remus' face and he placed his hand on the small of Sirius' back, but he spoke to James.
“Alright there, Prongs?”
“Moony!” James crowed, not letting the gaudy and ornate Quidditch Cup out of his hand as he threw an arm around Remus' neck. “I am brilliant, as I am a smashing chaser and a fantastic Quidditch captain, and we anni- annihilili- beat those slimy Slytherin gits.”
“Why do they call you Prongs?” the fifth year girl said curiously.
“Because he likes big racks,” Lily responded drily, from a spot a few inches from James' left ear. The younger girl's eyes widened and she fled, as James turned to face her, grinning in what he imagined was a charming manner and puffing his chest out. Torn between wanting to see the show and wanting to put on one of his own with the owner of the hot breath that was currently tickling his neck, Remus eventually decided on Sirius, his hand guiding the way towards the stairs.
“Think you can get up?” Remus leant over to his murmured lowly into Sirius' ear, who stared back at him with wild grey eyes. An almost predatory grin tugged at Remus' lips as he pressed his body to the taller boy's under the pretence of guiding him up the stairs, but really just enjoying the ragged breath it tore from his body. They made it eleven stairs before Remus couldn't stand it, spinning Sirius to pin him against the wall, the alcohol on their breath making that first messy, open mouthed kiss all the more fiery. Sirius' fingers entangled in the back of Remus' shirt, his free hand running down his body to cup his ass and pull their bodies flush together, so he was sandwiched between Remus and the wall. Remus groaned, already tugging at the buttons of Sirius' shirt, when the dark haired boy pulled away, pressing his lips to Remus' jaw.
“You should drink more often,” he whispered into the skin, sending a tremor through Remus' body.
“I'm not drunk,” Remus pointed out, his fingers in Sirius' to tug his head back, licking and biting his way down the sensitive skin of his throat.
“No,” Sirius admitted. “But you're different. And you're sexy.”
Remus made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh and stepped back. “And you are drunk. C'mon, Padfoot, bed.”
Even as Sirius stumbled up one of the stairs, when he threaded their fingers together, and mumbled in a put out tone “'Snot because I'm drunk, Moony,” Remus' stomach did a little flip when he realised he believed him. A smile blossomed on his face in the dark and he decided he'd rather have that feeling than a drunken one any day.
There was no hangover associated with being loved, after all.
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 805
Pairings: Remus/Sirius
Warnings: Swearing, drinking.
Summary: Sirius overindulges after they win the Quidditch Cup.
Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to JK Rowling.
Drinking.
Remus was, despite appearances as a prefect, the boy that Mr and Mrs Potter most approved of their son socialising with, and one of Lily Evans' best friends, able to put a bottle of Firewhiskey away with more ease than any of the other Marauders. Surprisingly, Peter was next most able to hold his liquor, and James' Quidditch playing days gave him an edge over Sirius. They couldn't explain it, really; Remus was the slimmest of them, and while he was only two inches shorter than Sirius, did not have the body type for drinking in copious amounts. And yet he did.
“Three beer queers, you reckon?” Peter gestured to their friends, who's gait was the least steady Remus thought he'd ever seen. The brunette's snort was as expressive as any response he could have made, so Peter corrected himself. “Prongs, I mean. I know what you and Padfoot get up to behind those hangings.”
Remus couldn't resist. “Not just behind the hangings,” he said, taking a sip of the Firewhiskey in front of him. “In the bathroom, and broom cupboards, and -”
Peter held up a hand. “Stop. I don't want to be in Defence and trying to figure out which desk you bent Sirius over,” he said, cringing.
“Alright, alright,” another sip, another grin. “It wasn't the Defence classroom, anyway. It was the Charms one.”
“Moony!” Peter mimed retching. “I'm going to go find Mary MacDonald.”
“Uh huh. I'm going to go rescue my boyfriend before Prongs proves you right.”
Setting his glass down on the table, he weaved his way through the small crowd of fifth, sixth and seventh years which filled the Gryffindor common room, where James was very loudly informing a fifth year girl that the most important position in the team was Chaser, and he knew this because he was Quidditch Captain. Another unbidden but not unwelcome grin ghosted across Remus' face and he placed his hand on the small of Sirius' back, but he spoke to James.
“Alright there, Prongs?”
“Moony!” James crowed, not letting the gaudy and ornate Quidditch Cup out of his hand as he threw an arm around Remus' neck. “I am brilliant, as I am a smashing chaser and a fantastic Quidditch captain, and we anni- annihilili- beat those slimy Slytherin gits.”
“Why do they call you Prongs?” the fifth year girl said curiously.
“Because he likes big racks,” Lily responded drily, from a spot a few inches from James' left ear. The younger girl's eyes widened and she fled, as James turned to face her, grinning in what he imagined was a charming manner and puffing his chest out. Torn between wanting to see the show and wanting to put on one of his own with the owner of the hot breath that was currently tickling his neck, Remus eventually decided on Sirius, his hand guiding the way towards the stairs.
“Think you can get up?” Remus leant over to his murmured lowly into Sirius' ear, who stared back at him with wild grey eyes. An almost predatory grin tugged at Remus' lips as he pressed his body to the taller boy's under the pretence of guiding him up the stairs, but really just enjoying the ragged breath it tore from his body. They made it eleven stairs before Remus couldn't stand it, spinning Sirius to pin him against the wall, the alcohol on their breath making that first messy, open mouthed kiss all the more fiery. Sirius' fingers entangled in the back of Remus' shirt, his free hand running down his body to cup his ass and pull their bodies flush together, so he was sandwiched between Remus and the wall. Remus groaned, already tugging at the buttons of Sirius' shirt, when the dark haired boy pulled away, pressing his lips to Remus' jaw.
“You should drink more often,” he whispered into the skin, sending a tremor through Remus' body.
“I'm not drunk,” Remus pointed out, his fingers in Sirius' to tug his head back, licking and biting his way down the sensitive skin of his throat.
“No,” Sirius admitted. “But you're different. And you're sexy.”
Remus made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh and stepped back. “And you are drunk. C'mon, Padfoot, bed.”
Even as Sirius stumbled up one of the stairs, when he threaded their fingers together, and mumbled in a put out tone “'Snot because I'm drunk, Moony,” Remus' stomach did a little flip when he realised he believed him. A smile blossomed on his face in the dark and he decided he'd rather have that feeling than a drunken one any day.
There was no hangover associated with being loved, after all.