Fairy Dust (R/S)
I got your part of the pirate fic, moonix, and it was loooovely. All this 'family' thing makes me all sigh-y :) I'll try working on it tonight, but I can't promise very much.
All righty, fic time!
Title: Fairy Dust
Rating: PG
Word Count: 970
Author Notes: Written for tellmeakiss's prompt, faeries. AU, our boys are Muggles. Not quite sure if this is allowed in the community, even when it is set on the Hogwarts era, only they're not, er, there. Um.
Day: 1 9
“I told you they existed,” mutters Sirius into Remus’ ear, and he doesn’t know whether he wants to shiver (sweet scent in Sirius’ mouth, candy cane-colored lips and the remnants in his pocket) or be too astounded to remember how to breathe. Scratches cover both of the knee-scraped teenagers hiding from the clearing, thorns digging into their clothes without them realizing anything that isn’t the sight in front of them.
The clearing is shining, pastel colors illuminating and giving eerie shadows at the same time, dancing lights, fireworks that won’t seem to go out, surreal land of Remus’ lullaby tinted dreams, fantasy in not so many words and too many images.
Fairies do exist. And they’re dancing in the forest, tiny voices getting carried away with the wind to the boys' ears, sounding merry and high to them. There are halos of light surrounding them, auras of indescribable colors mingling when they get to close together, hands intertwined as Remus so wishes to do with Sirius right now, petty reassurance of a regular world with school and smoking in the loo where things from fantasy books don’t come to life.
Fairies do exist, and Sirius ramblings at class and shining eyes for the last two weeks are now easy to interpret, to understand, and the way he’s smiling right now, half in triumph, half in pure ecstasy, gives him mixed urges (should he hit him or take the smile as his?). Fairy dust, ashes of their bright (alive) light, falls to the ground, to the whispering leaves that seem to move as if to catch it and keep it to themselves, and the world around the little specks of brilliancy shine and contort into something too beautiful and unreal to be true.
The boys stare, too transfixed to even attempt speech, and the magic the tiny beings exude tingles the tip of Remus’ fingers, warm and as light as his heart right now. A Fairy flies by the bush that’s hiding them, and they stop breathing for a second, getting closer instinctively and trying hard not to laugh with the raw adrenaline running wild through their veins, panting with pure happiness.
Two hours later, they’re sighted by a blue-looking Fairy, and as the three of them open their eyes wide in surprise, colored spots of light turning their little heads to the teenage boys, and Remus doesn’t need any words to know that’s their cue to leave.
They run, getting tangled in naked branches and laughing too hard, jumping in puddles (splashes of water that look black with the darkness) and tripping with tree roots that Remus now thinks might even be watching them, reaching out with their lithe limbs to suck the moisture out of them; and his imagination is running wild, and he knows it, but after tonight, after tonight everything’s possible.
“Told you so, you daft wanker!” yells Sirius into the night, running still, and Remus’ side stings so much he can’t breathe but he keeps running, if only because he feels too alive to stop.
“I always believed you!” he yells too, out of necessity with the wind they’re displacing, out of want and free will. He can almost see the edge of the forest, the yarn threads that enclose it and its enchanted legends, stories he had never believed from the elders of town and that had turned out to be true after all.
“You liar!” Sirius screams with indignity in his voice, and then there’s an arm snaking around his waist, holding him back, goosebumps on his skin and laughing getting choked on his throat. They stumble, but they don’t fall, inertia and momentum dragging them further. A head resting on his shoulder, and they cling to each other as if not to fall down to planet earth (and it’s monotony) once again, three steps away from the red barrier.
“Thank you for bringing me,” he whispers once he gets his breathe back, and Sirius smiles up to him, warm and sincere.
“Thank you for wanting to believe in me.” Sirius says, and Remus suddenly decides to risk it all.
“You’ve fairy dust on your mouth,” he says too quickly, too rushed, and he doesn’t allow Sirius to wonder what’s happening before he leans down to the still clinging Sirius and kisses him firmly, eyes open and locked with Sirius’ half-closed ones. Sirius parts his lips, and the excuse turns out to be true when he tastes electricity and magic on his tongue; and from then the world goes strictly sensorial, taste and touch and smell overpowering his mind and making him gasp when Sirius’ fingers twine on his hair.
They part, and Sirius nuzzles him, an Eskimo kiss that Remus can feel will one day be his undoing, and then there’s staring and silence and too warm hands on each other. “Just thought you should know.” Remus continues, and they both laugh.
“That was incredibly lame, you know?” They stumble until Sirius’ back is pressed against a tree, and Remus knows they won’t make it to school tomorrow, that they should stay in the forest if they want this newly born thing that had just been begging to happen for months already to linger, to stay charmed with the magic they’ve just witnessed.
“Don’t care. I feel like I’m high.” Remus mouths against Sirius’ jaw, and the sound he gets it’s the bastard offspring between a moan and a chuckle.
“I’m high on magic, m’ dear Remus,” Another slow kiss, and Remus thinks of dancing lights and still-shining dust on his hair. “I’m high on you,” says Sirius, languidly, low, and Remus can feel himself melting a little (wanting itching at the back of his head).
They kiss, and even with their eyes closed they can still see colored spots behind their eyelids.
All righty, fic time!
Title: Fairy Dust
Rating: PG
Word Count: 970
Author Notes: Written for tellmeakiss's prompt, faeries. AU, our boys are Muggles. Not quite sure if this is allowed in the community, even when it is set on the Hogwarts era, only they're not, er, there. Um.
Day: 1 9
“I told you they existed,” mutters Sirius into Remus’ ear, and he doesn’t know whether he wants to shiver (sweet scent in Sirius’ mouth, candy cane-colored lips and the remnants in his pocket) or be too astounded to remember how to breathe. Scratches cover both of the knee-scraped teenagers hiding from the clearing, thorns digging into their clothes without them realizing anything that isn’t the sight in front of them.
The clearing is shining, pastel colors illuminating and giving eerie shadows at the same time, dancing lights, fireworks that won’t seem to go out, surreal land of Remus’ lullaby tinted dreams, fantasy in not so many words and too many images.
Fairies do exist. And they’re dancing in the forest, tiny voices getting carried away with the wind to the boys' ears, sounding merry and high to them. There are halos of light surrounding them, auras of indescribable colors mingling when they get to close together, hands intertwined as Remus so wishes to do with Sirius right now, petty reassurance of a regular world with school and smoking in the loo where things from fantasy books don’t come to life.
Fairies do exist, and Sirius ramblings at class and shining eyes for the last two weeks are now easy to interpret, to understand, and the way he’s smiling right now, half in triumph, half in pure ecstasy, gives him mixed urges (should he hit him or take the smile as his?). Fairy dust, ashes of their bright (alive) light, falls to the ground, to the whispering leaves that seem to move as if to catch it and keep it to themselves, and the world around the little specks of brilliancy shine and contort into something too beautiful and unreal to be true.
The boys stare, too transfixed to even attempt speech, and the magic the tiny beings exude tingles the tip of Remus’ fingers, warm and as light as his heart right now. A Fairy flies by the bush that’s hiding them, and they stop breathing for a second, getting closer instinctively and trying hard not to laugh with the raw adrenaline running wild through their veins, panting with pure happiness.
Two hours later, they’re sighted by a blue-looking Fairy, and as the three of them open their eyes wide in surprise, colored spots of light turning their little heads to the teenage boys, and Remus doesn’t need any words to know that’s their cue to leave.
They run, getting tangled in naked branches and laughing too hard, jumping in puddles (splashes of water that look black with the darkness) and tripping with tree roots that Remus now thinks might even be watching them, reaching out with their lithe limbs to suck the moisture out of them; and his imagination is running wild, and he knows it, but after tonight, after tonight everything’s possible.
“Told you so, you daft wanker!” yells Sirius into the night, running still, and Remus’ side stings so much he can’t breathe but he keeps running, if only because he feels too alive to stop.
“I always believed you!” he yells too, out of necessity with the wind they’re displacing, out of want and free will. He can almost see the edge of the forest, the yarn threads that enclose it and its enchanted legends, stories he had never believed from the elders of town and that had turned out to be true after all.
“You liar!” Sirius screams with indignity in his voice, and then there’s an arm snaking around his waist, holding him back, goosebumps on his skin and laughing getting choked on his throat. They stumble, but they don’t fall, inertia and momentum dragging them further. A head resting on his shoulder, and they cling to each other as if not to fall down to planet earth (and it’s monotony) once again, three steps away from the red barrier.
“Thank you for bringing me,” he whispers once he gets his breathe back, and Sirius smiles up to him, warm and sincere.
“Thank you for wanting to believe in me.” Sirius says, and Remus suddenly decides to risk it all.
“You’ve fairy dust on your mouth,” he says too quickly, too rushed, and he doesn’t allow Sirius to wonder what’s happening before he leans down to the still clinging Sirius and kisses him firmly, eyes open and locked with Sirius’ half-closed ones. Sirius parts his lips, and the excuse turns out to be true when he tastes electricity and magic on his tongue; and from then the world goes strictly sensorial, taste and touch and smell overpowering his mind and making him gasp when Sirius’ fingers twine on his hair.
They part, and Sirius nuzzles him, an Eskimo kiss that Remus can feel will one day be his undoing, and then there’s staring and silence and too warm hands on each other. “Just thought you should know.” Remus continues, and they both laugh.
“That was incredibly lame, you know?” They stumble until Sirius’ back is pressed against a tree, and Remus knows they won’t make it to school tomorrow, that they should stay in the forest if they want this newly born thing that had just been begging to happen for months already to linger, to stay charmed with the magic they’ve just witnessed.
“Don’t care. I feel like I’m high.” Remus mouths against Sirius’ jaw, and the sound he gets it’s the bastard offspring between a moan and a chuckle.
“I’m high on magic, m’ dear Remus,” Another slow kiss, and Remus thinks of dancing lights and still-shining dust on his hair. “I’m high on you,” says Sirius, languidly, low, and Remus can feel himself melting a little (wanting itching at the back of his head).
They kiss, and even with their eyes closed they can still see colored spots behind their eyelids.