Collars, and the Puppies that Wear Them
Title: Collars, and the Puppies that Wear Them
Rating: PG
Warnings: homosexuality, implied kinks
Word count: 1334
Summary: There’s the Puppies and collars, and then there’s a puppy with a collar. Also, how much can be said with a smile.
Notes: This was written for ladyannikaa as part of the rs_small_gifts exchange. Her wishes were: collars; Remus playing an instrument; Remus and Sirius get a puppy. Betaed by catcheleven.
Remus was in the habit of putting away Sirius’ laundry for him, because goodness knows Sirius wasn’t. It was on that particular day that, as Remus stacked rolled up pairs of socks in the bottom drawer, his fingers knocked a metal buckle against the wooden side.
A collar?
Remus spent at least three minutes kneeling on the floor, folded laundry still at his side and awaiting to be put away, fingering the collar that he had found in the sock drawer. It was made of thick, real leather; black, of course. The collar was very well made, the little gold stitches evenly spaced and straight, with a golden buckle and ring from which a round dog tag hung from. By tilting the tag a bit upwards he was able to read the engraving:
Property of Sirius Black
Well now, Remus thought, and smiled. What else would he do with a collar bought by his boyfriend?
--
Four hours later, (after Remus finished the laundry and showered and jumped Sirius the moment he walked in the door and they had some quite, oh yes, exactly that kind of sex) Sirius lay on the back of the sofa, tracing the fine bones and tendons of Remus’ wrist.
“That was nice,” he whispered. Remus, lying on his side on the floor with his limbs thrown over Sirius, hummed in the agreeable sort of way that was suitable for any and all post-coital conversations.
“We have to right the sofa, though. I’m not sure how we tipped it over.”
“Hmmm.”
“And I love the collar on you, Remus.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Should I buy you one of your own, you think?” Sirius was smiling suggestively at him when Remus opened his eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asked in a thick mumble, trying to regain a sense of comprehensive thinking in his head.
Sirius’ smile became more mischievous. “I don’t think Lupe’d appreciate you wearing her things.”
“Lupe?” said Remus, raising his head. “Lupe?”
“Wait, calm down, not that Lupe; she went off to Belgium and never came back, remember, what with you threatening her and-“
“I did not threaten her.”
“-being so possessive in the patisserie-“
“You were the one trying to put a cream puff in my-“
Sirius pressed his fingers over Remus’ mouth to silence him, smiling again, this time with fondness. Remus thought it quite unfair that Sirius was capable of such expressive smiles. “Obsessive fangirl that she was, you made sure that she’d never bother us again,” said Sirius.
“Or that she would look at Q-tips the same way,” muttered Remus, laying his head back down on the floor.
“That too,” Sirius chuckled. “But this Lupe is, well, shall we say that she’s a bit more deserving of the name. What’s wrong, Moony? You’re shivering.”
“I just had a Bad Feeling,” said Remus.
--
Lupe was a glossy, black, wobbly-limbed, floppy-eared pup that eagerly climbed onto Remus’ lap to sniff at his chest and face. The collar was a matte ring around her neck, the tag jingling against the ring and buckle as she jerked her body around with spastic puppiness. Remus, slightly overwhelmed by the pup’s excitement (wolfy, wolfy play, sniff-sniff-lick!), tried to divert her snout before she tried to wash his face.
“This,” he said slowly, “is Lupe?”
Sirius, sitting on the arm of chair, leaned over a bit and scratched Lupe’s head. She tipped her head back and made appreciative whining noises, trying to lick his hand with her soft, pink tongue.
Yeah, I know how you feel, thought Remus with some amusement.
“Canis lupis familiaris,” said Sirius. “She’s a purebred Great Dane.”
“Perhaps you should have named her Dana,” said Remus, running his fingers over Lupe’s warm body. He ran his hand down her foreleg and she lifted it to shake paws with him. “Oh Merlin, she’s going to be huge.”
“You know us purebloods; we’re well-known for our size,” said Sirius, nudging Remus’ side with his elbow.
“Sirius, please, not in front of impressionable young minds,” said Remus, covering Lupe’s ears with his hands and shooting him a genuinely displeased look. Sirius blinked but acquiesced. He was glad that his boyfriend was taking to the unexpected addition to their living arrangement so well.
“She should be as big as us transformed when she’s full-grown. She can come out with us when Prongs and Wormtail can’t make it. She can keep you company when I’m away,” said Sirius, giving Remus a gentler nudge this time.
The times when he was alone were becoming more and more of a common occurrence, unfortunately. But those were things they did not talk about at home, and Remus ignored those thoughts.
“I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t get an Irish Wolfhound instead,” he said.
Sirius laughed. “I hardly think that they hunt werewolves the same way as they do wolves, Moony.”
They were quiet for several minutes, alternately tickling and petting Lupe, whom was more than happy to soak up the attention.
“She’s beautiful,” Remus said eventually, stroking the puppy’s slouching back in such a calming manner that Lupe seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep against his chest.
Sirius tilted his head and gave him another one of his smiles, this one saying: “Oh yes, and so are you; I rather love you both.”
--
Remus was spending the afternoon on the floor by the fire, legs stretched out, a guitar cradled in his lap. He didn’t really know how to play it; Sirius did, the guitar was his. Holding the guitar and strumming random chords, feeling the drawn out vibrations against his stomach and ears, it was relaxing. Lupe lay on the floor near him, her head on his knee. She tended to edge closer when he plucked out the very low or very high notes, her big, squishy nose tracing the air up and down the quivering chords as if she could smell the movement. Remus thought she might be getting doggy snot on the guitar, but he didn’t think Sirius would really care about that.
He knew when Sirius came home because Lupe’s head popped up, her tail wagging in automatic response, and she started barking. Paddy home, puppy happy, wolfy happy, paddy home!
He watched Lupe bounce across the room, miraculously not tripping over the rug with her big, clumsy puppy paws, to meet the larger and shaggier black dog that came into the living room. Remus’ curiosity and amusement grew as he watched Padfoot bend down to sniff noses with Lupe, then jerk his head up to preserve the small gift bag which he carried in his mouth.
Lupe seemed to think this was a game of keep away and made several near grabs for the bag until Padfoot growled warningly at her. She hung back uncertainly, but still curious, as he padded across the room to Remus. Remus took the bag as Padfoot carefully released it, giving both dogs pats on the head. Padfoot barked impatiently, pawing at Remus leg and inadvertently scratching the guitar.
“Alright, alright,” said Remus, tipping the bag and catching the box that fell out in his hand. It was a black velvet box, the larger kind meant for things like a lady’s necklace and earrings set. He opened, already expecting what was inside: a dark brown leather collar, stitched in red, trimmed in gold, with the circular dog tag reading “Property of Padfoot.”
Sirius transformed, and the tag’s wording changed to “Property of Sirius Black.”
“Just for you, Remus,” he said, “so you’ll never get lost.”
Lupe squeezed herself into the space between them and made a rolling growl noise.
The two men laughed at her and pet her at the same time. Lupe moaned in an approving puppy way. “Alright, so neither of you gets lost,” amended Sirius.
“Sirius,” said Remus in a low voice, half-smiling with emotion that was better expressed in the curve of Sirius’ own lips.
Sirius smiled; Me too.
also @ rs_small_gifts
Rating: PG
Warnings: homosexuality, implied kinks
Word count: 1334
Summary: There’s the Puppies and collars, and then there’s a puppy with a collar. Also, how much can be said with a smile.
Notes: This was written for ladyannikaa as part of the rs_small_gifts exchange. Her wishes were: collars; Remus playing an instrument; Remus and Sirius get a puppy. Betaed by catcheleven.
Remus was in the habit of putting away Sirius’ laundry for him, because goodness knows Sirius wasn’t. It was on that particular day that, as Remus stacked rolled up pairs of socks in the bottom drawer, his fingers knocked a metal buckle against the wooden side.
A collar?
Remus spent at least three minutes kneeling on the floor, folded laundry still at his side and awaiting to be put away, fingering the collar that he had found in the sock drawer. It was made of thick, real leather; black, of course. The collar was very well made, the little gold stitches evenly spaced and straight, with a golden buckle and ring from which a round dog tag hung from. By tilting the tag a bit upwards he was able to read the engraving:
Property of Sirius Black
Well now, Remus thought, and smiled. What else would he do with a collar bought by his boyfriend?
--
Four hours later, (after Remus finished the laundry and showered and jumped Sirius the moment he walked in the door and they had some quite, oh yes, exactly that kind of sex) Sirius lay on the back of the sofa, tracing the fine bones and tendons of Remus’ wrist.
“That was nice,” he whispered. Remus, lying on his side on the floor with his limbs thrown over Sirius, hummed in the agreeable sort of way that was suitable for any and all post-coital conversations.
“We have to right the sofa, though. I’m not sure how we tipped it over.”
“Hmmm.”
“And I love the collar on you, Remus.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Should I buy you one of your own, you think?” Sirius was smiling suggestively at him when Remus opened his eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asked in a thick mumble, trying to regain a sense of comprehensive thinking in his head.
Sirius’ smile became more mischievous. “I don’t think Lupe’d appreciate you wearing her things.”
“Lupe?” said Remus, raising his head. “Lupe?”
“Wait, calm down, not that Lupe; she went off to Belgium and never came back, remember, what with you threatening her and-“
“I did not threaten her.”
“-being so possessive in the patisserie-“
“You were the one trying to put a cream puff in my-“
Sirius pressed his fingers over Remus’ mouth to silence him, smiling again, this time with fondness. Remus thought it quite unfair that Sirius was capable of such expressive smiles. “Obsessive fangirl that she was, you made sure that she’d never bother us again,” said Sirius.
“Or that she would look at Q-tips the same way,” muttered Remus, laying his head back down on the floor.
“That too,” Sirius chuckled. “But this Lupe is, well, shall we say that she’s a bit more deserving of the name. What’s wrong, Moony? You’re shivering.”
“I just had a Bad Feeling,” said Remus.
--
Lupe was a glossy, black, wobbly-limbed, floppy-eared pup that eagerly climbed onto Remus’ lap to sniff at his chest and face. The collar was a matte ring around her neck, the tag jingling against the ring and buckle as she jerked her body around with spastic puppiness. Remus, slightly overwhelmed by the pup’s excitement (wolfy, wolfy play, sniff-sniff-lick!), tried to divert her snout before she tried to wash his face.
“This,” he said slowly, “is Lupe?”
Sirius, sitting on the arm of chair, leaned over a bit and scratched Lupe’s head. She tipped her head back and made appreciative whining noises, trying to lick his hand with her soft, pink tongue.
Yeah, I know how you feel, thought Remus with some amusement.
“Canis lupis familiaris,” said Sirius. “She’s a purebred Great Dane.”
“Perhaps you should have named her Dana,” said Remus, running his fingers over Lupe’s warm body. He ran his hand down her foreleg and she lifted it to shake paws with him. “Oh Merlin, she’s going to be huge.”
“You know us purebloods; we’re well-known for our size,” said Sirius, nudging Remus’ side with his elbow.
“Sirius, please, not in front of impressionable young minds,” said Remus, covering Lupe’s ears with his hands and shooting him a genuinely displeased look. Sirius blinked but acquiesced. He was glad that his boyfriend was taking to the unexpected addition to their living arrangement so well.
“She should be as big as us transformed when she’s full-grown. She can come out with us when Prongs and Wormtail can’t make it. She can keep you company when I’m away,” said Sirius, giving Remus a gentler nudge this time.
The times when he was alone were becoming more and more of a common occurrence, unfortunately. But those were things they did not talk about at home, and Remus ignored those thoughts.
“I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t get an Irish Wolfhound instead,” he said.
Sirius laughed. “I hardly think that they hunt werewolves the same way as they do wolves, Moony.”
They were quiet for several minutes, alternately tickling and petting Lupe, whom was more than happy to soak up the attention.
“She’s beautiful,” Remus said eventually, stroking the puppy’s slouching back in such a calming manner that Lupe seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep against his chest.
Sirius tilted his head and gave him another one of his smiles, this one saying: “Oh yes, and so are you; I rather love you both.”
--
Remus was spending the afternoon on the floor by the fire, legs stretched out, a guitar cradled in his lap. He didn’t really know how to play it; Sirius did, the guitar was his. Holding the guitar and strumming random chords, feeling the drawn out vibrations against his stomach and ears, it was relaxing. Lupe lay on the floor near him, her head on his knee. She tended to edge closer when he plucked out the very low or very high notes, her big, squishy nose tracing the air up and down the quivering chords as if she could smell the movement. Remus thought she might be getting doggy snot on the guitar, but he didn’t think Sirius would really care about that.
He knew when Sirius came home because Lupe’s head popped up, her tail wagging in automatic response, and she started barking. Paddy home, puppy happy, wolfy happy, paddy home!
He watched Lupe bounce across the room, miraculously not tripping over the rug with her big, clumsy puppy paws, to meet the larger and shaggier black dog that came into the living room. Remus’ curiosity and amusement grew as he watched Padfoot bend down to sniff noses with Lupe, then jerk his head up to preserve the small gift bag which he carried in his mouth.
Lupe seemed to think this was a game of keep away and made several near grabs for the bag until Padfoot growled warningly at her. She hung back uncertainly, but still curious, as he padded across the room to Remus. Remus took the bag as Padfoot carefully released it, giving both dogs pats on the head. Padfoot barked impatiently, pawing at Remus leg and inadvertently scratching the guitar.
“Alright, alright,” said Remus, tipping the bag and catching the box that fell out in his hand. It was a black velvet box, the larger kind meant for things like a lady’s necklace and earrings set. He opened, already expecting what was inside: a dark brown leather collar, stitched in red, trimmed in gold, with the circular dog tag reading “Property of Padfoot.”
Sirius transformed, and the tag’s wording changed to “Property of Sirius Black.”
“Just for you, Remus,” he said, “so you’ll never get lost.”
Lupe squeezed herself into the space between them and made a rolling growl noise.
The two men laughed at her and pet her at the same time. Lupe moaned in an approving puppy way. “Alright, so neither of you gets lost,” amended Sirius.
“Sirius,” said Remus in a low voice, half-smiling with emotion that was better expressed in the curve of Sirius’ own lips.
Sirius smiled; Me too.
also @ rs_small_gifts