Fic: Fruit Salad
Fruit Salad
By Minnow
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling and various corporations.
Era: Hypothetical flat-share after school.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Genre: Light and fluffy.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Remus sulks, fruit gets non-sexually abused, and the guys have a good time.
Apologies to lupinslittlesis, sheafrotherdon, and all the strawberry girls. Thanks totopaz_eyes and westwardlee for their helpful comments!
Now reposted on remusxsirius and two_boys.
Fruit Salad
‘We’re out of strawberries,’ Remus announced from the kitchen. There was an ominous thud, which Sirius did his best to ignore. Remus was bad with kitchens.
‘And we haven't got any bananas or cherries,’ Remus continued.
Sirius was lounging in bed, reading Quidditch Weekly and having his Saturday lie-in. He didn’t like the faint whine in Remus’s tone, didn’t like it at all. That was Moony’s Voice of Incipient Hysteria, a mood that made Sirius's occasional tantrums seem mild by comparison.
It didn't help that Remus was whining about a lack of the three fruit that played such a large part in Sirius’s daydreams. For instance, he liked to imagine them preceding oral sex with the slow and suggestive eating of a banana, or preferably one each. This wasn’t really feasible in the heat of the moment, but Sirius enjoyed the fantasies.
Strawberries, he thought, would be good for passing from mouth to mouth during kisses, because they didn’t go squidgy too fast, unless they were overripe. You had to remember to take the little green leafy bits off as well.
Cherries were for general guzzling, Sirius felt, though the stones presented a problem; they could lead to choking during periods of vast arousal, and rather spoil the mood.
He also dreamed of peach nectar, of mangoes and guava and starfruit. No doubt the humble kiwi and passion fruit had something to contribute too. He just didn’t like to imagine what it might be.
‘What have we got, then?’ Sirius called, not too sulkily, he hoped. He put down his magazine with the equivalent of a flounce. He did hate his reading interrupted. On the other hand, if Moony was about to offer sex with fruit, he was hardly going to refuse.
‘We have a pineapple.’
Sirius shuddered. He thought of the prickly skin, and that enzyme they’d learned about in Potions, which he could never remember the name of. But it dissolved things, and he certainly didn’t want it near any part of his body, or worse, any part of Remus’s body. What’s more, it took ages to cut and slice a pineapple, and there were those little brown spiky things that got stuck in your teeth.
‘No, not pineapple. Anything else?’
‘Tomato. But that’s a bit squishy, and I hate the seeds.’
‘Are tomatoes fruit?’
‘You can tell you never went to a Muggle school, Sirius. Yes, they are. And so are avocados, but we haven’t got any avocados.’
‘Pity, because I could smear the flesh all over your body and lick it off slowly.’
‘Avocados go brown if you don’t put lemon juice on them. And then they don’t taste so good.’
‘Well, thank you for telling me, Remus J. Lupin,’ Sirius thought sardonically, but didn’t say it aloud. He hated it when Remus hit him with snippets of information he didn’t know already.
‘Cucumbers are fruit too,’ Remus continued.
Sirius shuddered. ‘No way. No way in hell, Remus.’
‘We had a grape, but now it’s a raisin.’ Remus’s voice had changed from whiny to sullen, which sometimes precipitated a chocolate binge: not a good idea when Sirius had set his heart on a fruit-enhanced fuck.
He heaved himself up reluctantly from the bed, and went to join Remus in the kitchen, which looked as if a bomb had hit it. The fruit bowl was empty, with a nasty brown residue at the bottom. Sirius was bemused. He could have sworn it had been crammed with fruit before they went to bed. Maybe Remus had eaten it in the night.
Then, he saw that Remus had obviously been digging frenziedly through the bowl and flinging his rejects all over the floor. Slimy, sticky pulp and seeds clung to bunches of discarded kitchen paper and the dog biscuits Padfoot had scattered about after the last moon.
‘For goodness’ sake, Remus! Do you have to make such a mess? We’ll never be able to eat this now.’
‘I thought you just said you didn’t mainly want to eat it,’ growled Remus. He was entering the dangerous phase, where the most innocent tangerine might become the repository for his scorn and wrath.
‘Come on, Moony, calm down.’ Sirius put a soothing hand on his shoulder. Now, what was that, all split and oozing at his feet? ‘A melon. Hey, look, here's a melon!’
‘We don’t want to actually fuck it: we want it as an accessory.’ Remus had now given up on the fruit, and, as Sirius had dreaded, was starting to ransack the top cupboard for sweet and sickly Honeydukes goodies.
‘You’ve got a wand, haven’t you?’ cried Sirius, exasperated. ‘Look. First I’ll use magic to clear up, all right?’ He spoke as to a small child. Remus scowled at him, shoving half a block of chunky nut chocolate into his mouth.
‘Moony, you’ll make yourself sick again, and then you’ll be miserable, and take it out on me and the weekend will be ruined.’
‘Don’t care.’
Sirius murmured a charm, and the spilled and spoilt fruit levitated for a moment, dancing in the air before it spliced itself together and floated gracefully into the now-immaculate bowl. Remus stopped his frantic gulping, and watched, metaphorically open-mouthed; not literally, because that would have been gross, given the amount of chocolate he’d stuffed in there.
‘Isn’t that nice? Pretty fruit dancing. Now, I Transfigure the orange into eight bananas, a giant punnet of strawberries and too many cherries to count.’
‘Tin,’ Remus announced, having finally managed to swallow his chocolate.
‘What?’
‘Tin. Those Muggles who lived here before. They left tins. Of fruit cocktail.’
Sirius sniggered.
Remus ignored him, and started to forage in the cupboard again, flinging out packets and bottles with the sort of abandon he’d used on the fruit bowl earlier. Sirius hovered, his wand at the ready, not wanting to tidy too soon. He decided he would perform the Cruciatus Curse on the next well-meaning soul who beamed that Remus was obviously the mature member of the partnership.
Remus gave a triumphant cry and held up a small tin with a faded label depicting tiny chunks of unidentifiable objects, intended, Sirius concluded, to be pieces of pear and apricot. He recognised, with a faint leap of the heart, some cherries in the mixture, but they looked thin and detumescent next to the cherries he fantasised about sucking off Remus’s stomach on lazy afternoons.
‘No, Moony. Forget the tin. I don’t want to know.’
‘There’s juice.’
Remus waved his wand, and the tin sliced itself open neatly at the top. He poured the contents into a bowl, and examined them. ‘Look, Padfoot, peach!’
‘Remus, I just Transfigured enough lovely ripe fruit to keep us going for weeks. But we’ll never get to do anything with it if you don’t shut up about that sodding tin!’
Sirius poked the fruit salad experimentally with his wand, and it dissolved into a pile of green and yellow mush, dotted with lurid red bits. Before Remus could actually start crying, as he’d been known to do when thwarted just before a full moon, Sirius covered his mouth in a big, sloppy kiss. It tasted of chocolate, with lingering fragments of almond: a gritty kiss, but not unpleasant if you really loved someone.
‘Let’s forget the fruit, okay?’ Sirius said when they came up for air. ‘Let’s just leave this mess for now and get back to bed.’
‘Okay,’ Remus said, quite docile again. He leaned over to kiss Sirius in his turn.
‘What were you going to do with the strawberries, anyway?’ Sirius asked him a bit later, after a fruitful, if fruit-free, fuck. ‘You sounded as if you had a grand plan.’
Remus smoothed Sirius’s hair off his forehead. ‘I dunno. I just fancied an apple. Can we do that again?’
End
By Minnow
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling and various corporations.
Era: Hypothetical flat-share after school.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Genre: Light and fluffy.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Remus sulks, fruit gets non-sexually abused, and the guys have a good time.
Apologies to lupinslittlesis, sheafrotherdon, and all the strawberry girls. Thanks totopaz_eyes and westwardlee for their helpful comments!
Now reposted on remusxsirius and two_boys.
Fruit Salad
‘We’re out of strawberries,’ Remus announced from the kitchen. There was an ominous thud, which Sirius did his best to ignore. Remus was bad with kitchens.
‘And we haven't got any bananas or cherries,’ Remus continued.
Sirius was lounging in bed, reading Quidditch Weekly and having his Saturday lie-in. He didn’t like the faint whine in Remus’s tone, didn’t like it at all. That was Moony’s Voice of Incipient Hysteria, a mood that made Sirius's occasional tantrums seem mild by comparison.
It didn't help that Remus was whining about a lack of the three fruit that played such a large part in Sirius’s daydreams. For instance, he liked to imagine them preceding oral sex with the slow and suggestive eating of a banana, or preferably one each. This wasn’t really feasible in the heat of the moment, but Sirius enjoyed the fantasies.
Strawberries, he thought, would be good for passing from mouth to mouth during kisses, because they didn’t go squidgy too fast, unless they were overripe. You had to remember to take the little green leafy bits off as well.
Cherries were for general guzzling, Sirius felt, though the stones presented a problem; they could lead to choking during periods of vast arousal, and rather spoil the mood.
He also dreamed of peach nectar, of mangoes and guava and starfruit. No doubt the humble kiwi and passion fruit had something to contribute too. He just didn’t like to imagine what it might be.
‘What have we got, then?’ Sirius called, not too sulkily, he hoped. He put down his magazine with the equivalent of a flounce. He did hate his reading interrupted. On the other hand, if Moony was about to offer sex with fruit, he was hardly going to refuse.
‘We have a pineapple.’
Sirius shuddered. He thought of the prickly skin, and that enzyme they’d learned about in Potions, which he could never remember the name of. But it dissolved things, and he certainly didn’t want it near any part of his body, or worse, any part of Remus’s body. What’s more, it took ages to cut and slice a pineapple, and there were those little brown spiky things that got stuck in your teeth.
‘No, not pineapple. Anything else?’
‘Tomato. But that’s a bit squishy, and I hate the seeds.’
‘Are tomatoes fruit?’
‘You can tell you never went to a Muggle school, Sirius. Yes, they are. And so are avocados, but we haven’t got any avocados.’
‘Pity, because I could smear the flesh all over your body and lick it off slowly.’
‘Avocados go brown if you don’t put lemon juice on them. And then they don’t taste so good.’
‘Well, thank you for telling me, Remus J. Lupin,’ Sirius thought sardonically, but didn’t say it aloud. He hated it when Remus hit him with snippets of information he didn’t know already.
‘Cucumbers are fruit too,’ Remus continued.
Sirius shuddered. ‘No way. No way in hell, Remus.’
‘We had a grape, but now it’s a raisin.’ Remus’s voice had changed from whiny to sullen, which sometimes precipitated a chocolate binge: not a good idea when Sirius had set his heart on a fruit-enhanced fuck.
He heaved himself up reluctantly from the bed, and went to join Remus in the kitchen, which looked as if a bomb had hit it. The fruit bowl was empty, with a nasty brown residue at the bottom. Sirius was bemused. He could have sworn it had been crammed with fruit before they went to bed. Maybe Remus had eaten it in the night.
Then, he saw that Remus had obviously been digging frenziedly through the bowl and flinging his rejects all over the floor. Slimy, sticky pulp and seeds clung to bunches of discarded kitchen paper and the dog biscuits Padfoot had scattered about after the last moon.
‘For goodness’ sake, Remus! Do you have to make such a mess? We’ll never be able to eat this now.’
‘I thought you just said you didn’t mainly want to eat it,’ growled Remus. He was entering the dangerous phase, where the most innocent tangerine might become the repository for his scorn and wrath.
‘Come on, Moony, calm down.’ Sirius put a soothing hand on his shoulder. Now, what was that, all split and oozing at his feet? ‘A melon. Hey, look, here's a melon!’
‘We don’t want to actually fuck it: we want it as an accessory.’ Remus had now given up on the fruit, and, as Sirius had dreaded, was starting to ransack the top cupboard for sweet and sickly Honeydukes goodies.
‘You’ve got a wand, haven’t you?’ cried Sirius, exasperated. ‘Look. First I’ll use magic to clear up, all right?’ He spoke as to a small child. Remus scowled at him, shoving half a block of chunky nut chocolate into his mouth.
‘Moony, you’ll make yourself sick again, and then you’ll be miserable, and take it out on me and the weekend will be ruined.’
‘Don’t care.’
Sirius murmured a charm, and the spilled and spoilt fruit levitated for a moment, dancing in the air before it spliced itself together and floated gracefully into the now-immaculate bowl. Remus stopped his frantic gulping, and watched, metaphorically open-mouthed; not literally, because that would have been gross, given the amount of chocolate he’d stuffed in there.
‘Isn’t that nice? Pretty fruit dancing. Now, I Transfigure the orange into eight bananas, a giant punnet of strawberries and too many cherries to count.’
‘Tin,’ Remus announced, having finally managed to swallow his chocolate.
‘What?’
‘Tin. Those Muggles who lived here before. They left tins. Of fruit cocktail.’
Sirius sniggered.
Remus ignored him, and started to forage in the cupboard again, flinging out packets and bottles with the sort of abandon he’d used on the fruit bowl earlier. Sirius hovered, his wand at the ready, not wanting to tidy too soon. He decided he would perform the Cruciatus Curse on the next well-meaning soul who beamed that Remus was obviously the mature member of the partnership.
Remus gave a triumphant cry and held up a small tin with a faded label depicting tiny chunks of unidentifiable objects, intended, Sirius concluded, to be pieces of pear and apricot. He recognised, with a faint leap of the heart, some cherries in the mixture, but they looked thin and detumescent next to the cherries he fantasised about sucking off Remus’s stomach on lazy afternoons.
‘No, Moony. Forget the tin. I don’t want to know.’
‘There’s juice.’
Remus waved his wand, and the tin sliced itself open neatly at the top. He poured the contents into a bowl, and examined them. ‘Look, Padfoot, peach!’
‘Remus, I just Transfigured enough lovely ripe fruit to keep us going for weeks. But we’ll never get to do anything with it if you don’t shut up about that sodding tin!’
Sirius poked the fruit salad experimentally with his wand, and it dissolved into a pile of green and yellow mush, dotted with lurid red bits. Before Remus could actually start crying, as he’d been known to do when thwarted just before a full moon, Sirius covered his mouth in a big, sloppy kiss. It tasted of chocolate, with lingering fragments of almond: a gritty kiss, but not unpleasant if you really loved someone.
‘Let’s forget the fruit, okay?’ Sirius said when they came up for air. ‘Let’s just leave this mess for now and get back to bed.’
‘Okay,’ Remus said, quite docile again. He leaned over to kiss Sirius in his turn.
‘What were you going to do with the strawberries, anyway?’ Sirius asked him a bit later, after a fruitful, if fruit-free, fuck. ‘You sounded as if you had a grand plan.’
Remus smoothed Sirius’s hair off his forehead. ‘I dunno. I just fancied an apple. Can we do that again?’
End