HP: For the Fun Of It
Title: For the Fun Of It
Author: MrsTater
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for suggestive themes
Format & Word Count: One-shot, 1377 words
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Summary: Tonks figures out what on earth you do the morning after you've slept with a man, only to have him point out that her concluded course of action is counterproductive.
Author's Note: Written for the lovely Kileaiya, who stumped me in the Stump the Writer meme, as per her request for Remus and Tonks doing some kind of householdy thing, with or without magic, together. It's a little follow-up to You Should Know.... Hope this agrees with you, m'dear.
For the Fun Of It
Waking in the grey morning light, shivering in the chill that touched the exposed bits of her -- namely her face -- Tonks burrowed down further beneath the layers of quilts and woven blankets and sheets and shifted toward the sagging centre of the bed. She smiled as she opened her eyes, expecting her gaze to meet the brilliant blue eyes that had never left hers as they made love and held one another after, to see the body that had warmed hers through the night curve around her.
Her smile fell. There were no blue eyes blinking at her, or even hidden behind closed lids with golden lashes. There was no warm body beside hers.
She was alone in bed.
You dreamt it. You dreamt last night, with Remus, in his bed, in his house--
His house.
Rolling onto her back, Tonks stared up at the ceiling, which sloped to its lowest point over the iron headboard. Unless she was sill asleep, she hadn't dreamt the little whitewashed gable room with the red gingham curtains in its two windows, the hooked rugs on the wood floor, the bed that had to be charmed to be quite wide enough for the two of them to sleep in.
Or not-sleep in, she amended, noting the dark green jumper and grey trousers slung untidily over the back of the ladder-backed desk chair, the socks and underwear heaped beneath with the shoes Remus hadn't bothered to untie...Neon pink at the bottom of her peripheral drew her eye to the foot of the bed and the silky nightie, trimmed in black ribbon and lace, tangled around the post.
Oh, Merlin...The sight of the lingerie brought back to her vivid impressions of the night before: the way he'd turned and looked at her when she walked into the bedroom wearing it...the way he'd looked as he'd worked feverishly to get it off her, his normally graceful fingers suddenly as awkward as hers had ever thought about being...
Smiling again, Tonks stretched her arms over her head, then wriggled beneath the covers again as she was seized by a giggle.
No, she definitely had not dreamt sleeping with Remus Lupin in that way that didn't involve sleeping.
Only she must have fallen actually asleep at some point, because she didn't remember Remus getting up to... Ears pricked, she turned her head toward the door, stood slightly ajar. From behind, faintly, water trickled through groaning pipes.
To shower.
Remus was in the shower.
You should join him.
Tonks stuck one arm out from under the blankets to grab her wand from the bedside table, but instead of summoning her dressing gown as intended, she hesitated.
How in bloody hell do you join a bloke for his shower? Walk right in, starkers?
Despite the fact that he'd already seen her starkers, and indeed she was starkers right now, Tonks felt herself colour at the idea of being so bold, and tucked the sheets more concealingly around her body. She looked down at the footboard again, and studied her negligee.
Put on lingerie and strike a sexy pose?
More like strike the floor, Tonks. Remember, we're talking about you. On tile. No lingerie in the world could make up for the certain disaster that is the sum total of Tonks and tile.
Anyway, why put it on when you're just taking it off again? Seems a bit counterproductive, doesn't it?
Maybe she ought to just wait for him right here? If he'd wanted her in the shower with him, he'd have woken her, wouldn't he?
For that matter, if he was in the mood for morning sex, he'd have done the same, right?
Blokes thought about two things, didn't they? If Remus wasn't thinking about sex, he'd probably be happy to get out of the shower and smell bacon and coffee cooking downstairs.
Remus, damp and smelling soapy, slipping up behind you at the cooker, wrapping his arms around you, stubble scratching your cheek as he leans in for a kiss...
Dream on, Tonks. Maybe if you were your mother's daughter.
Sudden conviction -- or rebelliousness -- spurring her to action, she shot out her arm and snatched her wand. "Accio dressing gown."
She swung her feet to the floor, wincing at the cold and shifting them quickly to the rug, stuck her arms into the sleeves and jerked the flimsy fabric over her shoulders.
You might not be a Susie Housewitch or a great expert on Post-Coital Etiquette, but pre-coital etiquette didn't seem to matter much when you were blurting out to Remus that you were a virgin. If he was okay with that, there's not much you can do now to put him off, is there? You figured out first times. You sure as hell can figure out mornings after.
Doing what she always did after a night of actual sleep seemed to be the safest course of action.
"What are you doing, Elphine?"
Okay -- making the bed wasn't safe when blokes sneaked up behind you right when you were stretched across to pull up the opposite corner of the sheet, and talked to you in damned amused, raspy, sexy voices. That just made you go sprawling across the bed.
You'd have been better off trying to strike a sexy pose in the bathroom.
Tonks pushed herself upright and, without looking at him, resumed pulling the sheets up over it.
"Making the bed," she replied in what she hoped was an un-fazed way.
"I see that," said Remus, laughter in his voice, as his hands slipped around her waist and gently pulled her back against him. "What I meant to ask was: Why?"
His stubble prickled her cheek as he pressed his lips to her skin, and Tonks couldn't miss the suggestive undertone to his words as she noticed the indentations of their two bodies, one longer and curved around the other, in the mattress. She shivered. He smelt like soap and shampoo and toothpaste, and she thought of her own bed-head and morning breath and wished she'd woken up to shower and left him to ponder mornings-after and whether she wanted morning sex or breakfast or a shower buddy.
"Because I always make my bed." She bent to go on with it, but Remus squeezed her middle, holding her securely against him.
"This isn't your bed."
"But I slept here." Or not-slept there. "My mum raised me to be a model houseguest."
"Indeed."
Chuckling low, so that she felt the rumble of it against her back, resonating through her, Remus kissed her again, then released her. As he moved round to the opposite side of the bed, Tonks glimpsed him for the first time and saw he'd put on a dressing gown and pyjamas, and his hair was still damp and adorably tousled.
As he tugged the blankets up over the sheet, he said, "Isn't it a bit counter-productive, though? I mean -- aren't we just going to un-make it again?"
The way he was looking at her made Tonks' palms sweat and her fingers go limp.
You don't know he means that like you think he means it, Tonks! He might just mean tonight, when you go to bed.
Her gaze dropped downward, and she noticed the pale skin of his chest exposed between the lapels of his dressing gown. He'd put on pyjama bottoms, but not a pyjama shirt.
Because it would be counter-productive -- and don't try to take that any other way, you great daft prat.
"That assumes we're going to have morning sex right here in this bed," she said, surprising herself with her boldness.
Remus looked surprised, too, but tried to hide it with that mild grin as he fluffed his pillow.
That's a lopsided grin, you idiot, not a mild one. He's bloody thrilled with your initiative, Tonks. He'd have liked you to get in the shower with him, too.
"Why are you helping me make it, then," she asked, filing the thought away for tomorrow morning, "if you're so bloody concerned about being counterproductive?"
"Why," Remus replied, plucking the negligee off the bedpost, and looking at her with gleaming blue eyes, "for the fun of un-making it."
The End
Author: MrsTater
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for suggestive themes
Format & Word Count: One-shot, 1377 words
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Summary: Tonks figures out what on earth you do the morning after you've slept with a man, only to have him point out that her concluded course of action is counterproductive.
Author's Note: Written for the lovely Kileaiya, who stumped me in the Stump the Writer meme, as per her request for Remus and Tonks doing some kind of householdy thing, with or without magic, together. It's a little follow-up to You Should Know.... Hope this agrees with you, m'dear.
For the Fun Of It
Waking in the grey morning light, shivering in the chill that touched the exposed bits of her -- namely her face -- Tonks burrowed down further beneath the layers of quilts and woven blankets and sheets and shifted toward the sagging centre of the bed. She smiled as she opened her eyes, expecting her gaze to meet the brilliant blue eyes that had never left hers as they made love and held one another after, to see the body that had warmed hers through the night curve around her.
Her smile fell. There were no blue eyes blinking at her, or even hidden behind closed lids with golden lashes. There was no warm body beside hers.
She was alone in bed.
You dreamt it. You dreamt last night, with Remus, in his bed, in his house--
His house.
Rolling onto her back, Tonks stared up at the ceiling, which sloped to its lowest point over the iron headboard. Unless she was sill asleep, she hadn't dreamt the little whitewashed gable room with the red gingham curtains in its two windows, the hooked rugs on the wood floor, the bed that had to be charmed to be quite wide enough for the two of them to sleep in.
Or not-sleep in, she amended, noting the dark green jumper and grey trousers slung untidily over the back of the ladder-backed desk chair, the socks and underwear heaped beneath with the shoes Remus hadn't bothered to untie...Neon pink at the bottom of her peripheral drew her eye to the foot of the bed and the silky nightie, trimmed in black ribbon and lace, tangled around the post.
Oh, Merlin...The sight of the lingerie brought back to her vivid impressions of the night before: the way he'd turned and looked at her when she walked into the bedroom wearing it...the way he'd looked as he'd worked feverishly to get it off her, his normally graceful fingers suddenly as awkward as hers had ever thought about being...
Smiling again, Tonks stretched her arms over her head, then wriggled beneath the covers again as she was seized by a giggle.
No, she definitely had not dreamt sleeping with Remus Lupin in that way that didn't involve sleeping.
Only she must have fallen actually asleep at some point, because she didn't remember Remus getting up to... Ears pricked, she turned her head toward the door, stood slightly ajar. From behind, faintly, water trickled through groaning pipes.
To shower.
Remus was in the shower.
You should join him.
Tonks stuck one arm out from under the blankets to grab her wand from the bedside table, but instead of summoning her dressing gown as intended, she hesitated.
How in bloody hell do you join a bloke for his shower? Walk right in, starkers?
Despite the fact that he'd already seen her starkers, and indeed she was starkers right now, Tonks felt herself colour at the idea of being so bold, and tucked the sheets more concealingly around her body. She looked down at the footboard again, and studied her negligee.
Put on lingerie and strike a sexy pose?
More like strike the floor, Tonks. Remember, we're talking about you. On tile. No lingerie in the world could make up for the certain disaster that is the sum total of Tonks and tile.
Anyway, why put it on when you're just taking it off again? Seems a bit counterproductive, doesn't it?
Maybe she ought to just wait for him right here? If he'd wanted her in the shower with him, he'd have woken her, wouldn't he?
For that matter, if he was in the mood for morning sex, he'd have done the same, right?
Blokes thought about two things, didn't they? If Remus wasn't thinking about sex, he'd probably be happy to get out of the shower and smell bacon and coffee cooking downstairs.
Remus, damp and smelling soapy, slipping up behind you at the cooker, wrapping his arms around you, stubble scratching your cheek as he leans in for a kiss...
Dream on, Tonks. Maybe if you were your mother's daughter.
Sudden conviction -- or rebelliousness -- spurring her to action, she shot out her arm and snatched her wand. "Accio dressing gown."
She swung her feet to the floor, wincing at the cold and shifting them quickly to the rug, stuck her arms into the sleeves and jerked the flimsy fabric over her shoulders.
You might not be a Susie Housewitch or a great expert on Post-Coital Etiquette, but pre-coital etiquette didn't seem to matter much when you were blurting out to Remus that you were a virgin. If he was okay with that, there's not much you can do now to put him off, is there? You figured out first times. You sure as hell can figure out mornings after.
Doing what she always did after a night of actual sleep seemed to be the safest course of action.
"What are you doing, Elphine?"
Okay -- making the bed wasn't safe when blokes sneaked up behind you right when you were stretched across to pull up the opposite corner of the sheet, and talked to you in damned amused, raspy, sexy voices. That just made you go sprawling across the bed.
You'd have been better off trying to strike a sexy pose in the bathroom.
Tonks pushed herself upright and, without looking at him, resumed pulling the sheets up over it.
"Making the bed," she replied in what she hoped was an un-fazed way.
"I see that," said Remus, laughter in his voice, as his hands slipped around her waist and gently pulled her back against him. "What I meant to ask was: Why?"
His stubble prickled her cheek as he pressed his lips to her skin, and Tonks couldn't miss the suggestive undertone to his words as she noticed the indentations of their two bodies, one longer and curved around the other, in the mattress. She shivered. He smelt like soap and shampoo and toothpaste, and she thought of her own bed-head and morning breath and wished she'd woken up to shower and left him to ponder mornings-after and whether she wanted morning sex or breakfast or a shower buddy.
"Because I always make my bed." She bent to go on with it, but Remus squeezed her middle, holding her securely against him.
"This isn't your bed."
"But I slept here." Or not-slept there. "My mum raised me to be a model houseguest."
"Indeed."
Chuckling low, so that she felt the rumble of it against her back, resonating through her, Remus kissed her again, then released her. As he moved round to the opposite side of the bed, Tonks glimpsed him for the first time and saw he'd put on a dressing gown and pyjamas, and his hair was still damp and adorably tousled.
As he tugged the blankets up over the sheet, he said, "Isn't it a bit counter-productive, though? I mean -- aren't we just going to un-make it again?"
The way he was looking at her made Tonks' palms sweat and her fingers go limp.
You don't know he means that like you think he means it, Tonks! He might just mean tonight, when you go to bed.
Her gaze dropped downward, and she noticed the pale skin of his chest exposed between the lapels of his dressing gown. He'd put on pyjama bottoms, but not a pyjama shirt.
Because it would be counter-productive -- and don't try to take that any other way, you great daft prat.
"That assumes we're going to have morning sex right here in this bed," she said, surprising herself with her boldness.
Remus looked surprised, too, but tried to hide it with that mild grin as he fluffed his pillow.
That's a lopsided grin, you idiot, not a mild one. He's bloody thrilled with your initiative, Tonks. He'd have liked you to get in the shower with him, too.
"Why are you helping me make it, then," she asked, filing the thought away for tomorrow morning, "if you're so bloody concerned about being counterproductive?"
"Why," Remus replied, plucking the negligee off the bedpost, and looking at her with gleaming blue eyes, "for the fun of un-making it."
The End