Too Damn Hot
It's well after midnight, and it's still too hot to think properly. I hate the British summer. One day you're shivering in jumpers, and the next the temperature rises and rises, and the humidity is worse, and of course there's no such thing as air conditioning, because it's just not British.
I am too hot to write gen fic, so have some fluff.
Title: Staying Cool
Words: 1135
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I am not JKR. They don't belong to me. I'm just playing.
Summary: It's too damn hot, and Remus can't even take any clothes off in case Sirius gets the wrong idea.
“Right,” Sirius said from the other side of the dorm. “I have had enough.”
Normally, it was the sort of sentiment that would have worried Remus considerably. Today he was too hot to care. He lifted his head in time to see Sirius storm out of the dorm, robes swirling around him.
Remus, who had discarded his outer robes hours ago, flopped back down and pointed his wand at the draperies above his head again.
This cooling charm lasted all of twenty seconds before it fizzled, and the heat sank down on him again.
Maybe Sirius had actually gone properly. If he had, then Remus could take more clothes off. That had been the plan, when he left James and Peter down by the lake revising. He was going to come back here, spell the door locked, take everything off, and clear enough space on the floor that he could lie down on the cold stones.
But James, the wanker, had said, “For Merlin’s sake, Moony, take Padfoot with you before he kills someone.” So, after a fair amount of hexing and bickering, he had found himself climbing through the castle, a heat-grumpy Sirius on his heels.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and an ominous sloshing noise. Remus propped himself up far enough to see Sirius return, a bucket of water in each hand. He put one down beside James’ bed, and proceeded to the centre of the dorm. Then, as Remus watched in bemusement, he emptied the bucket over his head.
“Aaahyarargh!”
Remus wasn’t sure if that was a sound of pleasure or pain, but he was pretty certain how James was going to feel about the stack of freshly drowned Quidditch magazines that Sirius was standing beside.
“Oooh. Cold. Good.”
“I didn’t assume it was warm water,” Remus said. “What’s wrong with the shower?”
“Wastes water,” Sirius said, blinking at him. His hair was stuck to his cheeks, spikes crossing his eyes. On anyone else it would look ridiculous. “Less satisfying.”
“Your clothes are soaked.”
“Feels good.” Sirius ran this hands down his torso, pressing the wet cloth down, moulding it against his skin. “Mmm. Not hot anymore.”
“You will be,” Remus said. “And then your clothes will smell musty. You should have taken them off.”
Sirius leered at him. “Trying to get me naked again, Moony?”
“Fuck off,” Remus said wearily, and dropped back down on the bed, closing his eyes. When he’d finally plucked up the courage to mention to the others that he might like boys just as much as he liked girls, he’d expected James to be the most difficult. He really hadn’t expected Sirius, whose declarations of heterosexuality got less convincing by the year, to be such a complete and utter arse about it.
The problem, he thought sourly, was Sirius’ ego. Sirius just assumed that anyone who fancied boys would automatically fancy him. Remus had lost count of the times he’d been through No, Padfoot, I don’t want to shag you, I am not attracted to you and I do not want to rip your clothes off and take you against the wall, thank you so much for that unnerving image, but I actually prefer blonds - shut up, Wormtail, I don’t fancy you either. And every time Sirius would just pat him on the shoulder and say, S’okay, mate, I’m flattered really, and spend the rest of the day dropping innuendo-laced comments.
Which was why he was lying here, in the sweltering heat, and hadn’t even undone a button. He didn’t want Sirius getting ideas. Not that he could ever stop Sirius’ muses from demanding chaos, but he wasn’t going to encourage-
A tide of cold water hit his belly.
Remus yelped, and flailed. Fuck.
Then the pure bliss of being cold rolled over him, and he sighed and pressed back against his wet bedding.
“I told you it felt good,” Sirius said.
Remus cracked his eyes open. Sirius was standing at the end of his bed, clad in nothing more than his drawers and clutching an empty bucket. He looked very pleased with himself.
“Now,” he said, grinning, “you have to take all your clothes off.”
Remus closed his eyes again.
There was a creak, and the bed dipped as Sirius landed. Remus, suddenly straddled by a cold, wet, virtually naked Sirius, squawked a protest.
“Clothes off!” Sirius said, eyes bright.
Oh, fuck. Obviously, cooling Sirius down turned him from grumpy to manic. Grand.
Humming, Sirius began to unbutton Remus’ shirt.
“Padfoot! Off!”
“You don’t have to be shy, Moony. I know you lust after me.”
“I do not lust after you.”
“Sit up.”
Remus sat, taking a breath, and found his shirt being dragged over his head. When the white cloth was gone, he found Sirius in its place, grinning at him from mere inches away.
“Boo,” he said.
“How old are you?” Remus demanded, but he could feel his lips twitch.
“Old enough. Say you fancy me.”
“I don’t.”
“Say you fancy me, and you want me to share your nice cold bed and its puddle.”
“I don’t fancy you, and it’s my bed.” He felt better already, with one less layer between him and the faint breeze through the window.
Sirius leant forward, close enough that Remus could feel the stir of his breath on his cheek. “Why don’t you fancy me?”
Remus blinked at him. Bloody git never gave up. “Why doesn’t Lily fancy Prongs? Certain people just aren’t attracted to certain other people.”
“Evans does fancy him,” Sirius said dismissively. “She looks at him whenever he turns his back. That’s not the point.”
Remus suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling that this might be a serious conversation. That would explain why Sirius had been so obnoxious all day. “Sirius,” he began placatingly.
“Don’t do that,” Sirius said, rapping him on the shoulder. “Look, you like me, right? I’m your friend?”
“Yes,” Remus said. He would never hesitate to answer that question.
“And you fancy boys. So why can’t you combine the two?”
“Good lord,” Remus said, before his brain caught up with his mouth. “Logic.”
Sirius shot him a hurt look, and lunged forward, pressing his mouth against Remus’. Remus gasped, and felt Sirius’ tongue slip between his lips, sloppy and urgent.
Sirius’ hands were on his bare back, his palms pressed against scars, and something warm curled up in Remus’ stomach. Bugger, he thought. Bugger, bugger, bugger. I do fancy the bastard.
The best response to that seemed to be to admit defeat gracefully. He wrapped his arms around Sirius’ almost dry ribs, and dragged him down into the puddle.
Sirius cackled into the curve of his neck. “I told you so.”
“Shut up,” Remus said. “Before I decide you’re too warm.”
“Make me,” Sirius said, smirking.
So Remus did.
I am too hot to write gen fic, so have some fluff.
Title: Staying Cool
Words: 1135
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I am not JKR. They don't belong to me. I'm just playing.
Summary: It's too damn hot, and Remus can't even take any clothes off in case Sirius gets the wrong idea.
“Right,” Sirius said from the other side of the dorm. “I have had enough.”
Normally, it was the sort of sentiment that would have worried Remus considerably. Today he was too hot to care. He lifted his head in time to see Sirius storm out of the dorm, robes swirling around him.
Remus, who had discarded his outer robes hours ago, flopped back down and pointed his wand at the draperies above his head again.
This cooling charm lasted all of twenty seconds before it fizzled, and the heat sank down on him again.
Maybe Sirius had actually gone properly. If he had, then Remus could take more clothes off. That had been the plan, when he left James and Peter down by the lake revising. He was going to come back here, spell the door locked, take everything off, and clear enough space on the floor that he could lie down on the cold stones.
But James, the wanker, had said, “For Merlin’s sake, Moony, take Padfoot with you before he kills someone.” So, after a fair amount of hexing and bickering, he had found himself climbing through the castle, a heat-grumpy Sirius on his heels.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and an ominous sloshing noise. Remus propped himself up far enough to see Sirius return, a bucket of water in each hand. He put one down beside James’ bed, and proceeded to the centre of the dorm. Then, as Remus watched in bemusement, he emptied the bucket over his head.
“Aaahyarargh!”
Remus wasn’t sure if that was a sound of pleasure or pain, but he was pretty certain how James was going to feel about the stack of freshly drowned Quidditch magazines that Sirius was standing beside.
“Oooh. Cold. Good.”
“I didn’t assume it was warm water,” Remus said. “What’s wrong with the shower?”
“Wastes water,” Sirius said, blinking at him. His hair was stuck to his cheeks, spikes crossing his eyes. On anyone else it would look ridiculous. “Less satisfying.”
“Your clothes are soaked.”
“Feels good.” Sirius ran this hands down his torso, pressing the wet cloth down, moulding it against his skin. “Mmm. Not hot anymore.”
“You will be,” Remus said. “And then your clothes will smell musty. You should have taken them off.”
Sirius leered at him. “Trying to get me naked again, Moony?”
“Fuck off,” Remus said wearily, and dropped back down on the bed, closing his eyes. When he’d finally plucked up the courage to mention to the others that he might like boys just as much as he liked girls, he’d expected James to be the most difficult. He really hadn’t expected Sirius, whose declarations of heterosexuality got less convincing by the year, to be such a complete and utter arse about it.
The problem, he thought sourly, was Sirius’ ego. Sirius just assumed that anyone who fancied boys would automatically fancy him. Remus had lost count of the times he’d been through No, Padfoot, I don’t want to shag you, I am not attracted to you and I do not want to rip your clothes off and take you against the wall, thank you so much for that unnerving image, but I actually prefer blonds - shut up, Wormtail, I don’t fancy you either. And every time Sirius would just pat him on the shoulder and say, S’okay, mate, I’m flattered really, and spend the rest of the day dropping innuendo-laced comments.
Which was why he was lying here, in the sweltering heat, and hadn’t even undone a button. He didn’t want Sirius getting ideas. Not that he could ever stop Sirius’ muses from demanding chaos, but he wasn’t going to encourage-
A tide of cold water hit his belly.
Remus yelped, and flailed. Fuck.
Then the pure bliss of being cold rolled over him, and he sighed and pressed back against his wet bedding.
“I told you it felt good,” Sirius said.
Remus cracked his eyes open. Sirius was standing at the end of his bed, clad in nothing more than his drawers and clutching an empty bucket. He looked very pleased with himself.
“Now,” he said, grinning, “you have to take all your clothes off.”
Remus closed his eyes again.
There was a creak, and the bed dipped as Sirius landed. Remus, suddenly straddled by a cold, wet, virtually naked Sirius, squawked a protest.
“Clothes off!” Sirius said, eyes bright.
Oh, fuck. Obviously, cooling Sirius down turned him from grumpy to manic. Grand.
Humming, Sirius began to unbutton Remus’ shirt.
“Padfoot! Off!”
“You don’t have to be shy, Moony. I know you lust after me.”
“I do not lust after you.”
“Sit up.”
Remus sat, taking a breath, and found his shirt being dragged over his head. When the white cloth was gone, he found Sirius in its place, grinning at him from mere inches away.
“Boo,” he said.
“How old are you?” Remus demanded, but he could feel his lips twitch.
“Old enough. Say you fancy me.”
“I don’t.”
“Say you fancy me, and you want me to share your nice cold bed and its puddle.”
“I don’t fancy you, and it’s my bed.” He felt better already, with one less layer between him and the faint breeze through the window.
Sirius leant forward, close enough that Remus could feel the stir of his breath on his cheek. “Why don’t you fancy me?”
Remus blinked at him. Bloody git never gave up. “Why doesn’t Lily fancy Prongs? Certain people just aren’t attracted to certain other people.”
“Evans does fancy him,” Sirius said dismissively. “She looks at him whenever he turns his back. That’s not the point.”
Remus suddenly had an uncomfortable feeling that this might be a serious conversation. That would explain why Sirius had been so obnoxious all day. “Sirius,” he began placatingly.
“Don’t do that,” Sirius said, rapping him on the shoulder. “Look, you like me, right? I’m your friend?”
“Yes,” Remus said. He would never hesitate to answer that question.
“And you fancy boys. So why can’t you combine the two?”
“Good lord,” Remus said, before his brain caught up with his mouth. “Logic.”
Sirius shot him a hurt look, and lunged forward, pressing his mouth against Remus’. Remus gasped, and felt Sirius’ tongue slip between his lips, sloppy and urgent.
Sirius’ hands were on his bare back, his palms pressed against scars, and something warm curled up in Remus’ stomach. Bugger, he thought. Bugger, bugger, bugger. I do fancy the bastard.
The best response to that seemed to be to admit defeat gracefully. He wrapped his arms around Sirius’ almost dry ribs, and dragged him down into the puddle.
Sirius cackled into the curve of his neck. “I told you so.”
“Shut up,” Remus said. “Before I decide you’re too warm.”
“Make me,” Sirius said, smirking.
So Remus did.