Fic: It's The Small Things (Sirius/Remus)
Title: It's The Small Things
Rating: PG
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Disclaimer: Dont own anything, apparently not even my own mind
A/N: This is slash...don't mention it...its a birthday fic for mrs_jack_turner
Summary: The things that make Remus notice
It is his hair which draws me to him first. Shaggy. A little too long. Blacker than the darkest night. Not messy like James’. Not unkempt. But simply is. Day or night. As I came to find out.
And so soft to the touch. Brushing a stray lock from his twinkling eyes. As that smile graces his lips. The special smile. The one only I see. Behind closed doors. When he does not have to be who he was made to be. Who his history makes him.
It’s those eyes that drag me in closer. Grey and colourless. Hiding so much of what he is. His bright shining soul. Beaming through them. Lighting up the world around him. Lighting up my world. As his lips whisper promises against my skin. Secrets. It’s his eyes that keep them. Show me he means every word. That he always will.
But it’s the things he does. The small and the big. Grand gestures. Hidden signs. That keep me with him. Tell me to stay by his side. That this might just be.
He’s the only one big enough to subdue me. The only one who can control the beast. His caring gentle nature coupled with his need to protect. Shining through in that fact alone. Eyes flashed with something akin to jealousy. Resentment. At the mere suggestion he might not be able to. That someone else might.
Its the depth of planning. The attention to detail. More than the actions themselves. The thought and effort. Circles under his eyes speak of sleepless nights. Books dog eared. Parchments containing hurried scrawl. More meaningful than anything else. More powerful than any declaration. Things can go unspoken. For the truth is known. Words would ruin this. Sully it with their inadequacy.
But it is the mornings. Waking up in his arms. In a battered run down shack. Silence cloaking us. That makes it almost worth it. The pain. The fear. Almost forgotten. A memory of a story told by someone else. It is not allowed here. That's what makes me love him.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Disclaimer: Dont own anything, apparently not even my own mind
A/N: This is slash...don't mention it...its a birthday fic for mrs_jack_turner
Summary: The things that make Remus notice
It is his hair which draws me to him first. Shaggy. A little too long. Blacker than the darkest night. Not messy like James’. Not unkempt. But simply is. Day or night. As I came to find out.
And so soft to the touch. Brushing a stray lock from his twinkling eyes. As that smile graces his lips. The special smile. The one only I see. Behind closed doors. When he does not have to be who he was made to be. Who his history makes him.
It’s those eyes that drag me in closer. Grey and colourless. Hiding so much of what he is. His bright shining soul. Beaming through them. Lighting up the world around him. Lighting up my world. As his lips whisper promises against my skin. Secrets. It’s his eyes that keep them. Show me he means every word. That he always will.
But it’s the things he does. The small and the big. Grand gestures. Hidden signs. That keep me with him. Tell me to stay by his side. That this might just be.
He’s the only one big enough to subdue me. The only one who can control the beast. His caring gentle nature coupled with his need to protect. Shining through in that fact alone. Eyes flashed with something akin to jealousy. Resentment. At the mere suggestion he might not be able to. That someone else might.
Its the depth of planning. The attention to detail. More than the actions themselves. The thought and effort. Circles under his eyes speak of sleepless nights. Books dog eared. Parchments containing hurried scrawl. More meaningful than anything else. More powerful than any declaration. Things can go unspoken. For the truth is known. Words would ruin this. Sully it with their inadequacy.
But it is the mornings. Waking up in his arms. In a battered run down shack. Silence cloaking us. That makes it almost worth it. The pain. The fear. Almost forgotten. A memory of a story told by someone else. It is not allowed here. That's what makes me love him.