Thank you! (ficlet, PG13ish, Snupin)
Title: An Unexpected Gift
Words: ~1200
Pairing: Snupin
Rating: PG13 perhaps
Warnings: Mpreg (nonexplicit), maybe a bit of schmoop
A/N: With apologies for missing midnight eastern due to being unavoidably AFK (durn time zones), I'm hoping this will serve as thanks anyway, for running the fest and for letting me play. Also, thanks to Beth for the read-through.
It was the strangest assortment of Christmas gifts Severus had ever received. He was aware he didn't have a great many other Christmases to compare to--well, others on which he had received much in the way of gifts other than socks from Albus, which of course were no longer under the tree these several years. Still, either he'd dramatically misread how this all worked, when one was in a relationship (and wouldn't it just be simpler if he were allowed, for instance, to call this morning's encounter against the tile wall in the shower a Christmas gift? Even if it wasn't anything he wasn't happy to give every single day save one each month, at least he was reasonably sure Remus had liked it!), or he was missing something.
From the near-smirk on Remus's face, he suspected it was the latter.
Damn it.
He considered, for the third time this morning, employing covert Legilimency to avoid looking the fool, but irritatingly, he found he couldn’t. Not without feeling guilty, and he'd had enough guilt in his life and adding more on Christmas morning wouldn't do. It just wouldn't.
So, he methodically unwrapped yet another cheerful red-and-gold-festooned box, refusing to admit himself flummoxed, and opened the lid.
Apparently this was the gift intended to replace Albus's. There were five pairs of socks. Of course, they were phenomenally unuseful socks, as each pair was only big enough for his big toes, which struck him as odd. One year Albus had given him horrifying rainbow-hued socks with toes built right in, but those at least had included the body of the sock as well. These were just the toes.
He once again thanked Remus, who was clearly still hiding something, and set them aside in the pile, along with the bizarre tiny percussion devices which rattled when moved (which he hoped were not some sort of obscure invitation to learn, oh, flamenco dancing or worse), the strange rubbery plugging devices apparently designed to fit into oddly-shaped holes (which were too small to be effectively used for the first thing that had come to mind, and he'd checked; they weren't just enchanted to look deceptively small), and the graduated-cylinder bottles that listed measurements up the sides (which looked utterly inefficient for measurement purposes, but he hadn't wanted to say anything about that because they were, after all, gifts).
His own gifts to Remus had been more practical in nature, though he was beginning to wonder whether that had been an error. This was their first Christmas since undertaking this …association in the spring, and even though he'd certainly been under the impression practical and suited to the recipient was the thoughtful way to go, he admitted the last time his mother had provided gifts, they had been somewhat frivolous.
Of course, he had been nine at the time.
He looked under the tree one more time, then turned when Remus sighed.
"This isn't going as I'd intended," Remus said. "I thought surely--"
Severus stiffened. "I'm afraid--"
"No, Severus. You're not doing anything wrong."
Severus hated that Remus had immediately realized that was his assumption, because as much as he did like having someone who might fuss over him and tend to him when headaches left him cranky, he still couldn't help but worry when he was vulnerable. "My gifts are--"
"Lovely. Perfect. I wanted a new dressing gown, but didn't think I could justify the expense, and I notice you chose the one I stopped to look at all the way back in October. I just was… All right, these things aren't actually your gifts. I was trying to be clever."
"These aren't my gifts?"
"No."
"You thought it would be fun to watch me open them and be …gracious while you snickered?"
"No!"
Severus took a breath and reminded himself of the resolution he'd made all those months ago, to wait at least an extra ten seconds before allowing outrage to overtake him. "Explain."
"They're a message. Or, clues to one, I suppose."
Severus frowned and looked again at his pile of gifts. "I fail to see the arrangement that makes sense."
Remus waited and Severus scowled. "Toe socks, bottles, some sort of Mexican music device, and drain-stoppers?" There was silence, and he looked up to find Remus biting his lip in an effort not to laugh. "Oh, what?" It had surely been more than ten seconds, and he was done holding onto his temper. He stood and pushed past Remus, who didn't try to stop him.
Damn it.
If he wanted to discontinue the relationship, why had he chosen ridicule on Christmas? He'd come to the opinion Remus, unlike his deceased compatriots, wasn't cruel, and this made no sense. He was to the door by the time Remus spoke.
"I honestly thought you'd know what those things were, Severus. I'm sorry."
He turned, hoping this wasn't just another moment of ridicule. "Well?"
"Those are, in the order you opened them, bottles, dummies, a rattle, and booties. For a baby."
Severus stared. "This clarifies nothing. Why one earth would you be giving me…" He trailed off, blinking. "They're a message?" he asked, uncertain whether it was actually that his voice was faint, or that the pulse pounding in his ears all of a sudden was drowning him out.
"They are."
"Because…"
"Because we'll be needing them. You, er, noticed yourself in the shower that I was finally filling out a bit."
Severus stepped backward, hitting the doorjamb and sliding down to sit on the floor, knees up before him. "You're certain?"
"Quite."
"Oh." Severus shook his head. "I. Oh. I suppose this is a rather personal gift, then."
"I thought so. Happy Christmas."
Severus sat a moment more and then rolled up onto his knees, not bothering to stand before shuffling the few steps to the end of the couch, where he sat back down, suddenly exhausted from the double rush of adrenaline, then all at once alert as another thought hit. "I didn't hurt you? Earlier?" He reached up and pulled aside the collar of the new dressing gown to show the line of love bites.
"No," Remus chuckled. "And don't consider stopping that sort of thing. It's how we came to this point in the first place."
"I did work out thatmuch on my own. I'm not entirely lacking a sense of how these things happen, you know."
Remus chuckled again. "No, I'd say on the whole you quite know what you're doing. So. Did you want your real gift?" He started to stand.
Severus blinked. "This wasn't it?"
Remus stopped and settled back down to the couch. "No," he said after a moment. "But I'm glad you thought it might be."
Severus turned sharply at that, nearly offended, but he stopped before he said something harsh. Remus was right; he'd never expressed any particular affinity for infants, and it might have been unwelcome news had it been anyone else. Not that there was anyone else in his life who might have been offering this particular news.
He let out a breath he'd forgotten to notice he was holding, and nodded slowly. "I'm afraid whatever else you have can't possibly measure up," he said. "For now, perhaps it can wait."
Words: ~1200
Pairing: Snupin
Rating: PG13 perhaps
Warnings: Mpreg (nonexplicit), maybe a bit of schmoop
A/N: With apologies for missing midnight eastern due to being unavoidably AFK (durn time zones), I'm hoping this will serve as thanks anyway, for running the fest and for letting me play. Also, thanks to Beth for the read-through.
It was the strangest assortment of Christmas gifts Severus had ever received. He was aware he didn't have a great many other Christmases to compare to--well, others on which he had received much in the way of gifts other than socks from Albus, which of course were no longer under the tree these several years. Still, either he'd dramatically misread how this all worked, when one was in a relationship (and wouldn't it just be simpler if he were allowed, for instance, to call this morning's encounter against the tile wall in the shower a Christmas gift? Even if it wasn't anything he wasn't happy to give every single day save one each month, at least he was reasonably sure Remus had liked it!), or he was missing something.
From the near-smirk on Remus's face, he suspected it was the latter.
Damn it.
He considered, for the third time this morning, employing covert Legilimency to avoid looking the fool, but irritatingly, he found he couldn’t. Not without feeling guilty, and he'd had enough guilt in his life and adding more on Christmas morning wouldn't do. It just wouldn't.
So, he methodically unwrapped yet another cheerful red-and-gold-festooned box, refusing to admit himself flummoxed, and opened the lid.
Apparently this was the gift intended to replace Albus's. There were five pairs of socks. Of course, they were phenomenally unuseful socks, as each pair was only big enough for his big toes, which struck him as odd. One year Albus had given him horrifying rainbow-hued socks with toes built right in, but those at least had included the body of the sock as well. These were just the toes.
He once again thanked Remus, who was clearly still hiding something, and set them aside in the pile, along with the bizarre tiny percussion devices which rattled when moved (which he hoped were not some sort of obscure invitation to learn, oh, flamenco dancing or worse), the strange rubbery plugging devices apparently designed to fit into oddly-shaped holes (which were too small to be effectively used for the first thing that had come to mind, and he'd checked; they weren't just enchanted to look deceptively small), and the graduated-cylinder bottles that listed measurements up the sides (which looked utterly inefficient for measurement purposes, but he hadn't wanted to say anything about that because they were, after all, gifts).
His own gifts to Remus had been more practical in nature, though he was beginning to wonder whether that had been an error. This was their first Christmas since undertaking this …association in the spring, and even though he'd certainly been under the impression practical and suited to the recipient was the thoughtful way to go, he admitted the last time his mother had provided gifts, they had been somewhat frivolous.
Of course, he had been nine at the time.
He looked under the tree one more time, then turned when Remus sighed.
"This isn't going as I'd intended," Remus said. "I thought surely--"
Severus stiffened. "I'm afraid--"
"No, Severus. You're not doing anything wrong."
Severus hated that Remus had immediately realized that was his assumption, because as much as he did like having someone who might fuss over him and tend to him when headaches left him cranky, he still couldn't help but worry when he was vulnerable. "My gifts are--"
"Lovely. Perfect. I wanted a new dressing gown, but didn't think I could justify the expense, and I notice you chose the one I stopped to look at all the way back in October. I just was… All right, these things aren't actually your gifts. I was trying to be clever."
"These aren't my gifts?"
"No."
"You thought it would be fun to watch me open them and be …gracious while you snickered?"
"No!"
Severus took a breath and reminded himself of the resolution he'd made all those months ago, to wait at least an extra ten seconds before allowing outrage to overtake him. "Explain."
"They're a message. Or, clues to one, I suppose."
Severus frowned and looked again at his pile of gifts. "I fail to see the arrangement that makes sense."
Remus waited and Severus scowled. "Toe socks, bottles, some sort of Mexican music device, and drain-stoppers?" There was silence, and he looked up to find Remus biting his lip in an effort not to laugh. "Oh, what?" It had surely been more than ten seconds, and he was done holding onto his temper. He stood and pushed past Remus, who didn't try to stop him.
Damn it.
If he wanted to discontinue the relationship, why had he chosen ridicule on Christmas? He'd come to the opinion Remus, unlike his deceased compatriots, wasn't cruel, and this made no sense. He was to the door by the time Remus spoke.
"I honestly thought you'd know what those things were, Severus. I'm sorry."
He turned, hoping this wasn't just another moment of ridicule. "Well?"
"Those are, in the order you opened them, bottles, dummies, a rattle, and booties. For a baby."
Severus stared. "This clarifies nothing. Why one earth would you be giving me…" He trailed off, blinking. "They're a message?" he asked, uncertain whether it was actually that his voice was faint, or that the pulse pounding in his ears all of a sudden was drowning him out.
"They are."
"Because…"
"Because we'll be needing them. You, er, noticed yourself in the shower that I was finally filling out a bit."
Severus stepped backward, hitting the doorjamb and sliding down to sit on the floor, knees up before him. "You're certain?"
"Quite."
"Oh." Severus shook his head. "I. Oh. I suppose this is a rather personal gift, then."
"I thought so. Happy Christmas."
Severus sat a moment more and then rolled up onto his knees, not bothering to stand before shuffling the few steps to the end of the couch, where he sat back down, suddenly exhausted from the double rush of adrenaline, then all at once alert as another thought hit. "I didn't hurt you? Earlier?" He reached up and pulled aside the collar of the new dressing gown to show the line of love bites.
"No," Remus chuckled. "And don't consider stopping that sort of thing. It's how we came to this point in the first place."
"I did work out thatmuch on my own. I'm not entirely lacking a sense of how these things happen, you know."
Remus chuckled again. "No, I'd say on the whole you quite know what you're doing. So. Did you want your real gift?" He started to stand.
Severus blinked. "This wasn't it?"
Remus stopped and settled back down to the couch. "No," he said after a moment. "But I'm glad you thought it might be."
Severus turned sharply at that, nearly offended, but he stopped before he said something harsh. Remus was right; he'd never expressed any particular affinity for infants, and it might have been unwelcome news had it been anyone else. Not that there was anyone else in his life who might have been offering this particular news.
He let out a breath he'd forgotten to notice he was holding, and nodded slowly. "I'm afraid whatever else you have can't possibly measure up," he said. "For now, perhaps it can wait."