Fic: Scratching the Surface, for Jess//rhye
Title: Scratching the Surface
Author: crooked
Recipient: rhye
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2423
Summary: Remus does damage control after Sirius' unexpected news catches the boys off guard.
Author's notes: thanks to my beta, K. <3 any remaining mistakes are my own. and happy rs_small_gifts-idays, rhye! i hope you enjoy your gift! ♥
scratching the surface
“So, what I’m trying to say is… well, I’m gay. I wanted you lot to hear it from me and not anyone else.”
Remus just blinks at Sirius, waiting to see some twitch in the corner of his mouth or a surreptitious glance at James to give the hint that this is the latest in a string of pranks they had been pulling on one another. He doesn’t do any of that. Moreover, when Remus turns his head to gauge James’ reaction, he sees that the news has come as a complete shock to him as well. Just to James’ left, Peter has a look on his face that is somewhere between horror and disbelief. Remus isn’t entirely sure, upon second thought, that James’ expression is all that different.
He turns back to Sirius, wants to say something encouraging, supportive, but he can’t. He can’t because his brain won’t let him, too busy supplying unhelpful images of Sirius pressed into a hidden alcove of the castle with a gorgeous bloke, hands roaming all over each other, lips locked, moans escaping their throats. He flushes and looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose and silently commanding himself to focus.
The soft click of a door closing causes Remus to look up. Shit, he thinks, looking over at James. He’s wearing a completely different expression now, and it’s one Remus easily recognises as regret. They had waited too long, said the wrong thing (which was nothing at all), and Sirius mistook their stunned silence for disapproval. James stands up, looking around at the other two, but all Peter can offer is a small and rather helpless shrug.
Remus takes the reins, going over to his’ trunk and pulling his coat out. “I’ll go,” he says, and both Peter and James let out relieved sighs. He knows Peter just doesn’t know how to handle Sirius, and James simply isn’t ready to face him. He claps a hand on James’ shoulder and then heads out.
Remus pulls his scarlet-and-gold scarf tightly around his neck as he steps out of the portrait hole, the Fat Lady tolling her eyes and muttering something about not another one, only reluctantly pointing in direction Sirius went when asked politely. He’s headed to the roof, that stupid berk, he thinks, cursing Sirius because the biting cold is just too much to bear. They’ve all decided to stay over at Hogwarts for the Christmas break, even though Remus protested, because of the full moon that falls on Christmas Day. It’s three days before, and Remus’ body is aching enough in advance of the transformation, but he taps his wand twice on the helmet of the suit of armour just outside the Charms corridor and slips into the passage revealed when it slides to the left. Remus sighs as he’s greeted with a seemingly endless spiral staircase and mounts the first step.
Slowly the narrow stone stairs wind their way up, up, and up some more, until they end in a small, roughly hewn stone door that opens up onto a section of the roof. A chill runs down his spine as Remus steps out into the clear, cold night. He carefully makes his way to the place he knows Sirius will be, and sure enough, there he is, huddled against a turret that buffets him from the wind. He smiles almost apologetically when he sees Remus, uncurling from the ball he’d pulled himself into to stand and offer a hand to get across a small gap in-between buildings. Remus grips Sirius’ ungloved fingers in his own, icy cold hand, and allows himself to be pulled over.
They sit close together for warmth, touching from their shoulders down to their hips. Sirius didn’t grab his coat before heading out, so all he’s got to shield him from the winter chill is a thick jumper. Remus sighs, shrugs out of his jacket, and slings it across the pair of them.
“Thanks, Moony,” Sirius says, fighting the chatter his teeth want so badly to lapse into. “I didn’t mean for anyone to follow me out here, least of all you. How’d you even bloody find me?”
Remus snorts, rolling his eyes up to the heavens. “You’re a bit predictable after six years, Sirius.” He frowns then, jabbing Sirius lightly with his elbow. “And I’m not on my deathbed, you tit. It’s just another full moon, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s a full moon on Christmas, which is bloody rotten luck,” Sirius says, and he’s looking at Remus with a mixture of pity and sympathy. Remus has to remind himself that he’s followed Sirius to comfort him, not to seek any for himself. Nonetheless, the fact that his three mates have given up cozy holiday celebrations with their families (well, Sirius with the Potters, but that’s the same thing these days) hasn’t escaped him.
Remus smiles affectionately and nudges Sirius again, this time much more gently than before. “I have you idiots,” he says, mustering about as much sentimentality a teenage boy who is in immediate danger of freezing his bits off can manage. “Anyway, that’s not why I came up here.” He trails off for a moment, biting his lower lip as he studies Sirius, the sudden change in his expression. “What… I mean. Back in the dorm…”
“The queer dungbomb I unloaded on you, you mean?” Sirius asks, letting out a forced chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair. Remus nods and he shrugs. “Figured it’d be best coming from me. See, someone sort of found out.”
Sirius pauses to glance at Remus, but all he can do is lean forward a bit, giving a small shake of his head as if that explanation isn’t enough, and could Sirius please go on. So he does. “You know how I’ve been sort of dating that one bird, Acacia Peakes?” Remus almost laughs because ‘dating’ is hardly what he’d call it. They mostly sit around the common room while Acacia attacks Sirius’ face with her mouth and he tries his best not to look bored. “Well, I brought her up to the dorm the other night. I dunno where you all got off to, but I was planning on getting off myself. I mean, there was nothing better to do.”
Remus rolls his eyes and laughs, but Sirius presses on. “I had just convinced her, right? And she had her hands shoved right down my trousers… and, well, I called her someone else’s name.”
Sirius pauses again, and rightly so, because it takes Remus a moment to work this one out. So he called Acacia another name. Embarrassing, but it happens. Then it dawns on him that Sirius must’ve moaned some bloke’s name, and that unleashed an entirely different kind of reaction within him. It was mostly a burning curiosity to hear exactly whose name had been said, to know who it was that Sirius fantasised about when Remus heard him moaning softly behind the curtains of his bed some nights.
“Oh shit, Padfoot,” he mutters, because he can’t really think of anything better to respond with.
“Oh shit is right,” Sirius sighs, casting a glance at Remus. But Remus notices something about it. It’s almost furtive, and Sirius looks away the moment his eyes turn to meet the gaze.
Remus shifts a bit closer, subconsciously seeking out more of Sirius’ body heat. “So she was furious, vowed revenge, and you thought you’d take advantage of her being home for the hols to tell us before she could tell the whole school?”
Sirius’ brow furrows and he lifts one shoulder in a dismissive sort of shrug. “I don’t really care if she tells the whole school. I’m not saying I’m going to parade around with a big banner across my chest proclaiming I’m a raging poof, but I’m not going to hide from it either. It’s who I am, you know?” Remus admires the defiant set of Sirius’ jaw as he speaks the words, the words that strike Remus to his core because so much of his own life has been spent hiding who he is, in one way or another. He looks over at Remus again, and the defiance is gone, replaced by something unreadable. “I don’t care what everybody else thinks of me. I just care what you think.”
Was that a general ‘you’ or a specific one? Remus wasn’t sure. That is, until Sirius said the next few words.
“I said your name, Moony.”
The shock hits Remus like a blast of cold air straight to the face. His name. Sirius said his name when he was about to shag Acacia. It was a simple mistake, of course, a result of spending too much time together. It could’ve just as easily been Peter or James that Sirius muttered.
Except that one look at the expression on Sirius’ face - anticipatory, nervous, a little bit scared - tells Remus that it was no mistake. He’d said Remus’ name because he’d wanted it to be Remus with his hand shoved down his trousers, eager and willing, stripping off clothes and pressing kisses everywhere. He had a feeling that he was repeating the same blunder that had caused Sirius to flee earlier, letting too much silence hang in the air between them. But Remus couldn’t process it quick enough, wasn’t sure if he ever could: Sirius Black, best mate and comrade, breaker of laws on his behalf, most wanted bloke at Hogwarts and possibly in all of Britain, fancied him.
Remus, a skinny werewolf with a dry sense of humour, a battered chocolate frog card collection inherited from his father, and a nasty habit of chewing the end of his quills. Sirius had seen him at his very worst, and yet he hadn’t run away. And now, apparently, he’s trying to get closer? Only he isn’t. Remus pauses in his La Belle et la Bête comparison of himself and Sirius to remember one crucial piece of information: Sirius doesn’t know.
Before he can even think about what to say, the silence must’ve once again been too much for Sirius because he opens his mouth to fill it. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not… I mean, this is probably really awkward. No, it is really fucking awkward. I tried not to… but, y’know, I can’t help the way I feel.” Sirius is rambling, and Remus can’t fight the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s torn between letting him go on a bit more, and just ending his suffering right then.
Just as Sirius is launching into the next sentence about not wanting to ruin their friendship, Remus leans forward to close the narrow gap between them, and he presses his lips to Sirius’ mouth. He doesn’t know what made him do that rather than simply say ‘you know what, Sirius? I’m gay too’, but he’s done it, and his heart is hammering so hard against his ribcage he’s sure Sirius can hear it. Perhaps it’s the thrill that something finally aligned in his favour, that Sirius - funny, brilliant, amazing, gorgeous Sirius - is queer and fancies him. Maybe it’s the relief of being able to let go of that last secret he’d been keeping from his best friends, at least to one of them anyway.
Whatever it is, Remus doesn’t question the wisdom behind it, not when Sirius’ hand slips around the back of his neck and pulls him closer, and especially not when he moans. It seems like an eternity passes before they pull away, and Remus can feel the air stinging his burning-hot cheeks. Sirius’ lips look bee-stung and his expression bewildered. Remus can’t do anything but laugh, and he covers his mouth as the sound echoes out over the rooftop, sweeping along between the peaks and turrets with the wind.
“I’m sorry,” he says in response to Sirius’ confused look. “It’s just… look at the two of us. What are the odds, Padfoot? What are the fucking odds?”
Sirius still looks confused when he replies, “What do you mean?”
Remus’ laughter fades, and he gives a small shrug. What does he mean? He was going to say that they’re not exactly well-suited to one another, but didn’t Sirius say he didn’t care what anyone but his friends thought of him? And for Remus to say they’re not suited based solely on their appearances would surely sting. Sirius has been expected to live up to some image his entire life, judged by what appears on the surface. And maybe that suits him just fine when it comes to some people; he picks and chooses what to reveal, shows certain people only the surface without letting them dive below.
But Remus has never been one of the unlucky excluded numbers. Sirius has always been completely real and honest with him about who he is. He’s always been allowed to breach the surface and see the person past the perfect hair, startlingly grey eyes, and the dazzling smile. Sitting there with him on the roof, the stars obscured by clouds overhead and the night air biting at their exposed skin, Sirius has a look in his eyes that tells Remus he needs him to see what lies beneath the surface more than ever at that moment.
His smile slides back into place and Remus just gently shakes his head. “I just can’t believe it, that’s all. Can’t believe my luck.”
The relief on Sirius’ face tells Remus he’s said the right thing. So does the way Sirius circles his fingers around Remus’ wrist, as if he can’t quite believe his luck either. “I am quite a catch, aren’t I?” he teases, his familiar cocksure grin a welcomed sight. Remus doesn’t know what to do with an unsure Sirius. This one, though, he can handle.
“I wouldn’t know,” he says, and his hands seek out another surface, the bare skin beneath Sirius’ jumper as he slides an arm across his body, fingers curling around the side of his waist as Remus leans in again. “I haven’t caught you just yet.”
Their lips meet again, briefly, before Sirius gently pushes Remus back with a soft laugh. “Oh? Then what do you call this, Moony?” he asks, gesturing between them.
Remus grins and he moves in again, but he shifts his aim and his lips just brush Sirius’ neck as he speaks. “This?” He lets out a breathy laugh at the gentle shiver Sirius gives. “Oh, this is nothing, Padfoot. I’m just scratching the surface.”
Author: crooked
Recipient: rhye
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2423
Summary: Remus does damage control after Sirius' unexpected news catches the boys off guard.
Author's notes: thanks to my beta, K. <3 any remaining mistakes are my own. and happy rs_small_gifts-idays, rhye! i hope you enjoy your gift! ♥
scratching the surface
“So, what I’m trying to say is… well, I’m gay. I wanted you lot to hear it from me and not anyone else.”
Remus just blinks at Sirius, waiting to see some twitch in the corner of his mouth or a surreptitious glance at James to give the hint that this is the latest in a string of pranks they had been pulling on one another. He doesn’t do any of that. Moreover, when Remus turns his head to gauge James’ reaction, he sees that the news has come as a complete shock to him as well. Just to James’ left, Peter has a look on his face that is somewhere between horror and disbelief. Remus isn’t entirely sure, upon second thought, that James’ expression is all that different.
He turns back to Sirius, wants to say something encouraging, supportive, but he can’t. He can’t because his brain won’t let him, too busy supplying unhelpful images of Sirius pressed into a hidden alcove of the castle with a gorgeous bloke, hands roaming all over each other, lips locked, moans escaping their throats. He flushes and looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose and silently commanding himself to focus.
The soft click of a door closing causes Remus to look up. Shit, he thinks, looking over at James. He’s wearing a completely different expression now, and it’s one Remus easily recognises as regret. They had waited too long, said the wrong thing (which was nothing at all), and Sirius mistook their stunned silence for disapproval. James stands up, looking around at the other two, but all Peter can offer is a small and rather helpless shrug.
Remus takes the reins, going over to his’ trunk and pulling his coat out. “I’ll go,” he says, and both Peter and James let out relieved sighs. He knows Peter just doesn’t know how to handle Sirius, and James simply isn’t ready to face him. He claps a hand on James’ shoulder and then heads out.
Remus pulls his scarlet-and-gold scarf tightly around his neck as he steps out of the portrait hole, the Fat Lady tolling her eyes and muttering something about not another one, only reluctantly pointing in direction Sirius went when asked politely. He’s headed to the roof, that stupid berk, he thinks, cursing Sirius because the biting cold is just too much to bear. They’ve all decided to stay over at Hogwarts for the Christmas break, even though Remus protested, because of the full moon that falls on Christmas Day. It’s three days before, and Remus’ body is aching enough in advance of the transformation, but he taps his wand twice on the helmet of the suit of armour just outside the Charms corridor and slips into the passage revealed when it slides to the left. Remus sighs as he’s greeted with a seemingly endless spiral staircase and mounts the first step.
Slowly the narrow stone stairs wind their way up, up, and up some more, until they end in a small, roughly hewn stone door that opens up onto a section of the roof. A chill runs down his spine as Remus steps out into the clear, cold night. He carefully makes his way to the place he knows Sirius will be, and sure enough, there he is, huddled against a turret that buffets him from the wind. He smiles almost apologetically when he sees Remus, uncurling from the ball he’d pulled himself into to stand and offer a hand to get across a small gap in-between buildings. Remus grips Sirius’ ungloved fingers in his own, icy cold hand, and allows himself to be pulled over.
They sit close together for warmth, touching from their shoulders down to their hips. Sirius didn’t grab his coat before heading out, so all he’s got to shield him from the winter chill is a thick jumper. Remus sighs, shrugs out of his jacket, and slings it across the pair of them.
“Thanks, Moony,” Sirius says, fighting the chatter his teeth want so badly to lapse into. “I didn’t mean for anyone to follow me out here, least of all you. How’d you even bloody find me?”
Remus snorts, rolling his eyes up to the heavens. “You’re a bit predictable after six years, Sirius.” He frowns then, jabbing Sirius lightly with his elbow. “And I’m not on my deathbed, you tit. It’s just another full moon, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s a full moon on Christmas, which is bloody rotten luck,” Sirius says, and he’s looking at Remus with a mixture of pity and sympathy. Remus has to remind himself that he’s followed Sirius to comfort him, not to seek any for himself. Nonetheless, the fact that his three mates have given up cozy holiday celebrations with their families (well, Sirius with the Potters, but that’s the same thing these days) hasn’t escaped him.
Remus smiles affectionately and nudges Sirius again, this time much more gently than before. “I have you idiots,” he says, mustering about as much sentimentality a teenage boy who is in immediate danger of freezing his bits off can manage. “Anyway, that’s not why I came up here.” He trails off for a moment, biting his lower lip as he studies Sirius, the sudden change in his expression. “What… I mean. Back in the dorm…”
“The queer dungbomb I unloaded on you, you mean?” Sirius asks, letting out a forced chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair. Remus nods and he shrugs. “Figured it’d be best coming from me. See, someone sort of found out.”
Sirius pauses to glance at Remus, but all he can do is lean forward a bit, giving a small shake of his head as if that explanation isn’t enough, and could Sirius please go on. So he does. “You know how I’ve been sort of dating that one bird, Acacia Peakes?” Remus almost laughs because ‘dating’ is hardly what he’d call it. They mostly sit around the common room while Acacia attacks Sirius’ face with her mouth and he tries his best not to look bored. “Well, I brought her up to the dorm the other night. I dunno where you all got off to, but I was planning on getting off myself. I mean, there was nothing better to do.”
Remus rolls his eyes and laughs, but Sirius presses on. “I had just convinced her, right? And she had her hands shoved right down my trousers… and, well, I called her someone else’s name.”
Sirius pauses again, and rightly so, because it takes Remus a moment to work this one out. So he called Acacia another name. Embarrassing, but it happens. Then it dawns on him that Sirius must’ve moaned some bloke’s name, and that unleashed an entirely different kind of reaction within him. It was mostly a burning curiosity to hear exactly whose name had been said, to know who it was that Sirius fantasised about when Remus heard him moaning softly behind the curtains of his bed some nights.
“Oh shit, Padfoot,” he mutters, because he can’t really think of anything better to respond with.
“Oh shit is right,” Sirius sighs, casting a glance at Remus. But Remus notices something about it. It’s almost furtive, and Sirius looks away the moment his eyes turn to meet the gaze.
Remus shifts a bit closer, subconsciously seeking out more of Sirius’ body heat. “So she was furious, vowed revenge, and you thought you’d take advantage of her being home for the hols to tell us before she could tell the whole school?”
Sirius’ brow furrows and he lifts one shoulder in a dismissive sort of shrug. “I don’t really care if she tells the whole school. I’m not saying I’m going to parade around with a big banner across my chest proclaiming I’m a raging poof, but I’m not going to hide from it either. It’s who I am, you know?” Remus admires the defiant set of Sirius’ jaw as he speaks the words, the words that strike Remus to his core because so much of his own life has been spent hiding who he is, in one way or another. He looks over at Remus again, and the defiance is gone, replaced by something unreadable. “I don’t care what everybody else thinks of me. I just care what you think.”
Was that a general ‘you’ or a specific one? Remus wasn’t sure. That is, until Sirius said the next few words.
“I said your name, Moony.”
The shock hits Remus like a blast of cold air straight to the face. His name. Sirius said his name when he was about to shag Acacia. It was a simple mistake, of course, a result of spending too much time together. It could’ve just as easily been Peter or James that Sirius muttered.
Except that one look at the expression on Sirius’ face - anticipatory, nervous, a little bit scared - tells Remus that it was no mistake. He’d said Remus’ name because he’d wanted it to be Remus with his hand shoved down his trousers, eager and willing, stripping off clothes and pressing kisses everywhere. He had a feeling that he was repeating the same blunder that had caused Sirius to flee earlier, letting too much silence hang in the air between them. But Remus couldn’t process it quick enough, wasn’t sure if he ever could: Sirius Black, best mate and comrade, breaker of laws on his behalf, most wanted bloke at Hogwarts and possibly in all of Britain, fancied him.
Remus, a skinny werewolf with a dry sense of humour, a battered chocolate frog card collection inherited from his father, and a nasty habit of chewing the end of his quills. Sirius had seen him at his very worst, and yet he hadn’t run away. And now, apparently, he’s trying to get closer? Only he isn’t. Remus pauses in his La Belle et la Bête comparison of himself and Sirius to remember one crucial piece of information: Sirius doesn’t know.
Before he can even think about what to say, the silence must’ve once again been too much for Sirius because he opens his mouth to fill it. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not… I mean, this is probably really awkward. No, it is really fucking awkward. I tried not to… but, y’know, I can’t help the way I feel.” Sirius is rambling, and Remus can’t fight the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s torn between letting him go on a bit more, and just ending his suffering right then.
Just as Sirius is launching into the next sentence about not wanting to ruin their friendship, Remus leans forward to close the narrow gap between them, and he presses his lips to Sirius’ mouth. He doesn’t know what made him do that rather than simply say ‘you know what, Sirius? I’m gay too’, but he’s done it, and his heart is hammering so hard against his ribcage he’s sure Sirius can hear it. Perhaps it’s the thrill that something finally aligned in his favour, that Sirius - funny, brilliant, amazing, gorgeous Sirius - is queer and fancies him. Maybe it’s the relief of being able to let go of that last secret he’d been keeping from his best friends, at least to one of them anyway.
Whatever it is, Remus doesn’t question the wisdom behind it, not when Sirius’ hand slips around the back of his neck and pulls him closer, and especially not when he moans. It seems like an eternity passes before they pull away, and Remus can feel the air stinging his burning-hot cheeks. Sirius’ lips look bee-stung and his expression bewildered. Remus can’t do anything but laugh, and he covers his mouth as the sound echoes out over the rooftop, sweeping along between the peaks and turrets with the wind.
“I’m sorry,” he says in response to Sirius’ confused look. “It’s just… look at the two of us. What are the odds, Padfoot? What are the fucking odds?”
Sirius still looks confused when he replies, “What do you mean?”
Remus’ laughter fades, and he gives a small shrug. What does he mean? He was going to say that they’re not exactly well-suited to one another, but didn’t Sirius say he didn’t care what anyone but his friends thought of him? And for Remus to say they’re not suited based solely on their appearances would surely sting. Sirius has been expected to live up to some image his entire life, judged by what appears on the surface. And maybe that suits him just fine when it comes to some people; he picks and chooses what to reveal, shows certain people only the surface without letting them dive below.
But Remus has never been one of the unlucky excluded numbers. Sirius has always been completely real and honest with him about who he is. He’s always been allowed to breach the surface and see the person past the perfect hair, startlingly grey eyes, and the dazzling smile. Sitting there with him on the roof, the stars obscured by clouds overhead and the night air biting at their exposed skin, Sirius has a look in his eyes that tells Remus he needs him to see what lies beneath the surface more than ever at that moment.
His smile slides back into place and Remus just gently shakes his head. “I just can’t believe it, that’s all. Can’t believe my luck.”
The relief on Sirius’ face tells Remus he’s said the right thing. So does the way Sirius circles his fingers around Remus’ wrist, as if he can’t quite believe his luck either. “I am quite a catch, aren’t I?” he teases, his familiar cocksure grin a welcomed sight. Remus doesn’t know what to do with an unsure Sirius. This one, though, he can handle.
“I wouldn’t know,” he says, and his hands seek out another surface, the bare skin beneath Sirius’ jumper as he slides an arm across his body, fingers curling around the side of his waist as Remus leans in again. “I haven’t caught you just yet.”
Their lips meet again, briefly, before Sirius gently pushes Remus back with a soft laugh. “Oh? Then what do you call this, Moony?” he asks, gesturing between them.
Remus grins and he moves in again, but he shifts his aim and his lips just brush Sirius’ neck as he speaks. “This?” He lets out a breathy laugh at the gentle shiver Sirius gives. “Oh, this is nothing, Padfoot. I’m just scratching the surface.”