Five Phases of a Night
Title: Five Phases of a Night
Author: hiddendaze
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Rating: Mmm, PG-13? I'm not sure.
Warnings: None necessary - but read on!
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters in the Harry Potter universe. I am earning no profit from this and do it only for enjoyment - my own and (hopefully) that of others.
Author's Notes: This was written especially for shacking_up, though with a clogged head and a fevered mind. Thank you to ourmutualfiend for off-the-cuff comments and reassurances. Cross-posted to my livejournal.
On reflection, Remus could pinpoint five distinct phases of that night.
Firstly, Sirius went weird.
The four of them were sitting around watching the television that Peter had pilfered from Ministry stores. It had become something of a Friday night tradition, to eat and lounge around and be blokey with utterly no purpose.
James was on the couch scruffing Remus' hair during some affectionate roughing around. The roughing around also happened to include James gripping one of Remus' thighs and leaning into the couch with a knee either side of him.
"Aren't you engaged, Prongs?" The question tore through the air like a bludger charmed to attack with severe prejudice.
James and Remus stopped mid-skirmish and stared up.
Leaning against the door frame, calmly sipping a bottle of beer, was Sirius. His eyes, like his manner, were calm, and veering on cold, like his beer.
"What's that supposed to mean?" James said as he leaned back on his heels and drew a hand through his extra-messy hair.
Sirius calmly took another sip of his beer. Remus, stuck mute on the couch, was onto him. The 'unnerve them' strategy, right. Admittedly it was working well enough, especially as it had been used in conjunction with the 'totally bewilder them' strategy and the 'scare them out of the blue' strategy.
Sirius finally swallowed his beer. "Only I didn't think that manhandling was part of your particular repertoire," he stated baldly.
James looked appropriately befuddled, an innocent man accused of heinous crimes outside his imagining. Remus couldn't help looking a little stunned.
"You're mad," James said, slouching against the couch and glancing at Remus questioningly. Remus raised his eyebrows in an empathetic shrug and they looked back to see Sirius glaring and gulping his beer.
The situation was saved by Peter bringing in a tray of sausage rolls.
Secondly, Remus felt uncomfortable watching the Quidditch match on the television (Peter and James had magicked the Muggle device to channel 'real sport' events).
He was sitting on the couch with James and Sirius on either side of him, and Peter on the floor at his feet.
Sirius kept sending disgruntled looks at James, who sent annoyed glances back. Remus found this very off-putting and it made it difficult for him to concentrate on the match. He slouched down on the couch, not feeling it safe to make any movement towards either boy beside him. Peter glanced around and moved his elbow off the couch as Remus squirmed, then let his arm flop across the now stretched out legs as his attention returned to the television. Remus allowed himself to take some relaxing breaths.
When an advertisement came on and Peter chuckled, Remus laughed too. At least Peter wasn't tossing out bizarre, indecipherable looks to all and sundry.
"God, Peter, can't you find a way to cut these ads out!" Sirius huffed. Remus turned to see him with his arms crossed, scowling, staring blankly in front of him. He decided to flee the couch for the safe haven of the kitchen.
Thirdly, Remus was tired and a little drunk (security drinking) and said he'd rather stay the night at Peter's than risk a splinching.
Peter concurred with this line of action and started fetching blankets and pillows. James said goodnight, slapped Remus on the shoulder and looked at Sirius challengingly. Sirius maintained his sullen stance but after James disapparated he looked ... unsure.
Sirius and Remus leaned against the countertop while Peter prepared the couch.
"You were certainly weird tonight," Remus finally said.
Sirius grunted, and then started fidgeting with a dessert spoon.
"Well then," Remus said and yawned.
Peter yelled out "All done" and Remus walked back into the lounge room. Sirius followed.
"You feeling all right, Padfoot?" Peter said as he restacked the blankets at the end of the couch. "You look lost, sort of." He looked over at Sirius who shrugged non-committedly. Peter went on. "I guess I could transfigure a mattress for you if you wanted to stay too ..." He glanced around the room hazily for likely transfigurable items.
Sirius seemed to snap out of his fit of silence. "No, no bother. I might just sit here a while and get my bearings. Thanks, Pete."
Peter nodded and headed towards his bedroom, sending a good night over his shoulder.
Remus, meanwhile, had changed into the pyjamas Peter had left out for him and proceeded to claim ownership of the couch. He looked at Sirius sleepily from his bundle of blankets.
Fourthly, Sirius got deep and meaningful with Remus when Remus really wanted to sleep.
Sirius was hunched over and sitting on a footstool, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Remus was already halfway to falling asleep; his eyelids kept sliding shut of their own accord.
"I'm sorry I acted like a git this evening," Sirius announced.
"Why did you act like a git this evening?" Remus said through half-shut eyes.
"James was being an idiot and I didn't like -"
"James always is an idiot. What's so different?" Remus murmured, with great logic he thought, from his warm cocoon.
Sirius paused and examined his hands, turning them over and back again. Then he scuffed at the carpet with a foot. He kept his eyes fixed down there as he said, "I didn't like him touching you. And Peter too. And I hate you liking it when they do. I don't like it."
Remus was aware of a sudden ember of warmth in his belly, piercing through his drowsiness. It quickly budged up to make room for uncertainty. He opened his eyes and sat back a little on his elbows.
"You mean ... you were jealous?" he asked casually.
Sirius tilted his head up enough to look at Remus but only through a veil of dark fringe. "I think so," he said in an unsure voice that was rarely heard by anyone. "I think I like you."
Remus was silent.
"I don't know if you like boys - probably not - but I had to tell you anyway. And I understand if you never want it mentioned again but I hope we can still be friends. I just ... had to say it." From one extreme to another - sullen silence to a babbling brook: that was Sirius for you. Remus actually thought it rather nice that Sirius was babbling because of him.
"And- Remus?"
Remus had slid back under the blankets.
Fifthly, Remus (and Sirius) had a better night than is usually had on a friend's couch.
"Remus?" Sirius said again to a peaceful and snuggled-up Remus. "Are you going to sleep?"
Remus concentrated on nestling his body against the back of the couch and into the sheath of blankets.
"You can't be going to sleep after ... now." Sirius' voice was a mix of agitation and disappointment. He stood up and stared at the mussed head peeping out of the covers.
Remus blinked open his eyes to see attentiveness; the most concentrated look of attachment he'd ever seen on anyone's face. Sirius put his hands in his pockets and turned.
Perhaps it was sleepiness and mild drunkenness. Perhaps it was just what Remus wanted desperately at the moment. Then again maybe it was something he'd been half-waiting for and half-expecting for a long time. He lazily lifted up one side of the cocoon and called out "Padfoot."
Sirius turned around, hesitant hope quickly turning into a broad grin on seeing the invitation. After a moment he walked awkwardly over to the couch, sat on the edge, and leaned in.
Remus was propped up on pillows and Sirius was coming at him at an unusual angle but their lips met surely, gently. Hot breath buffered cheeks and chins as their mouths nudged together experimentally and tongues touched tentatively. They sucked each other in and poured themselves out for seconds, minutes.
Remus reached his hands to Sirius' chest, sliding ... and then pushing away. Sirius was left mouthing the air.
"Huh ... what?" Sirius managed confusedly. His dark eyes were pooled, deep and intense.
Remus couldn't suppress a brief laugh at his bewilderment, before moving on to matters at hand. "Get your jeans off, for chrissakes, and your shoes, and get under the covers," he said sleepily-sternly.
Sirius burst out laughing and fumbled with buckles and laces, and than positively threw himself down to lay beside Remus.
They kissed without hurry for a little while, both appreciating every new touch and taste and feeling for what it was.
Remus eventually yawned again, which sent Sirius yawning; they smiled for what seemed like the stupid-most time that night. Sirius slid down and undid the top buttons of Remus' pyjama top, alarming Remus just slightly, for a fraction of a thought. But then Sirius rested his dark, foolish head against the smooth, warm chest and breathed in. Remus fell further back into the pillows and breathed out and the night faded into darkness.
Author: hiddendaze
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Rating: Mmm, PG-13? I'm not sure.
Warnings: None necessary - but read on!
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters in the Harry Potter universe. I am earning no profit from this and do it only for enjoyment - my own and (hopefully) that of others.
Author's Notes: This was written especially for shacking_up, though with a clogged head and a fevered mind. Thank you to ourmutualfiend for off-the-cuff comments and reassurances. Cross-posted to my livejournal.
On reflection, Remus could pinpoint five distinct phases of that night.
Firstly, Sirius went weird.
The four of them were sitting around watching the television that Peter had pilfered from Ministry stores. It had become something of a Friday night tradition, to eat and lounge around and be blokey with utterly no purpose.
James was on the couch scruffing Remus' hair during some affectionate roughing around. The roughing around also happened to include James gripping one of Remus' thighs and leaning into the couch with a knee either side of him.
"Aren't you engaged, Prongs?" The question tore through the air like a bludger charmed to attack with severe prejudice.
James and Remus stopped mid-skirmish and stared up.
Leaning against the door frame, calmly sipping a bottle of beer, was Sirius. His eyes, like his manner, were calm, and veering on cold, like his beer.
"What's that supposed to mean?" James said as he leaned back on his heels and drew a hand through his extra-messy hair.
Sirius calmly took another sip of his beer. Remus, stuck mute on the couch, was onto him. The 'unnerve them' strategy, right. Admittedly it was working well enough, especially as it had been used in conjunction with the 'totally bewilder them' strategy and the 'scare them out of the blue' strategy.
Sirius finally swallowed his beer. "Only I didn't think that manhandling was part of your particular repertoire," he stated baldly.
James looked appropriately befuddled, an innocent man accused of heinous crimes outside his imagining. Remus couldn't help looking a little stunned.
"You're mad," James said, slouching against the couch and glancing at Remus questioningly. Remus raised his eyebrows in an empathetic shrug and they looked back to see Sirius glaring and gulping his beer.
The situation was saved by Peter bringing in a tray of sausage rolls.
Secondly, Remus felt uncomfortable watching the Quidditch match on the television (Peter and James had magicked the Muggle device to channel 'real sport' events).
He was sitting on the couch with James and Sirius on either side of him, and Peter on the floor at his feet.
Sirius kept sending disgruntled looks at James, who sent annoyed glances back. Remus found this very off-putting and it made it difficult for him to concentrate on the match. He slouched down on the couch, not feeling it safe to make any movement towards either boy beside him. Peter glanced around and moved his elbow off the couch as Remus squirmed, then let his arm flop across the now stretched out legs as his attention returned to the television. Remus allowed himself to take some relaxing breaths.
When an advertisement came on and Peter chuckled, Remus laughed too. At least Peter wasn't tossing out bizarre, indecipherable looks to all and sundry.
"God, Peter, can't you find a way to cut these ads out!" Sirius huffed. Remus turned to see him with his arms crossed, scowling, staring blankly in front of him. He decided to flee the couch for the safe haven of the kitchen.
Thirdly, Remus was tired and a little drunk (security drinking) and said he'd rather stay the night at Peter's than risk a splinching.
Peter concurred with this line of action and started fetching blankets and pillows. James said goodnight, slapped Remus on the shoulder and looked at Sirius challengingly. Sirius maintained his sullen stance but after James disapparated he looked ... unsure.
Sirius and Remus leaned against the countertop while Peter prepared the couch.
"You were certainly weird tonight," Remus finally said.
Sirius grunted, and then started fidgeting with a dessert spoon.
"Well then," Remus said and yawned.
Peter yelled out "All done" and Remus walked back into the lounge room. Sirius followed.
"You feeling all right, Padfoot?" Peter said as he restacked the blankets at the end of the couch. "You look lost, sort of." He looked over at Sirius who shrugged non-committedly. Peter went on. "I guess I could transfigure a mattress for you if you wanted to stay too ..." He glanced around the room hazily for likely transfigurable items.
Sirius seemed to snap out of his fit of silence. "No, no bother. I might just sit here a while and get my bearings. Thanks, Pete."
Peter nodded and headed towards his bedroom, sending a good night over his shoulder.
Remus, meanwhile, had changed into the pyjamas Peter had left out for him and proceeded to claim ownership of the couch. He looked at Sirius sleepily from his bundle of blankets.
Fourthly, Sirius got deep and meaningful with Remus when Remus really wanted to sleep.
Sirius was hunched over and sitting on a footstool, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Remus was already halfway to falling asleep; his eyelids kept sliding shut of their own accord.
"I'm sorry I acted like a git this evening," Sirius announced.
"Why did you act like a git this evening?" Remus said through half-shut eyes.
"James was being an idiot and I didn't like -"
"James always is an idiot. What's so different?" Remus murmured, with great logic he thought, from his warm cocoon.
Sirius paused and examined his hands, turning them over and back again. Then he scuffed at the carpet with a foot. He kept his eyes fixed down there as he said, "I didn't like him touching you. And Peter too. And I hate you liking it when they do. I don't like it."
Remus was aware of a sudden ember of warmth in his belly, piercing through his drowsiness. It quickly budged up to make room for uncertainty. He opened his eyes and sat back a little on his elbows.
"You mean ... you were jealous?" he asked casually.
Sirius tilted his head up enough to look at Remus but only through a veil of dark fringe. "I think so," he said in an unsure voice that was rarely heard by anyone. "I think I like you."
Remus was silent.
"I don't know if you like boys - probably not - but I had to tell you anyway. And I understand if you never want it mentioned again but I hope we can still be friends. I just ... had to say it." From one extreme to another - sullen silence to a babbling brook: that was Sirius for you. Remus actually thought it rather nice that Sirius was babbling because of him.
"And- Remus?"
Remus had slid back under the blankets.
Fifthly, Remus (and Sirius) had a better night than is usually had on a friend's couch.
"Remus?" Sirius said again to a peaceful and snuggled-up Remus. "Are you going to sleep?"
Remus concentrated on nestling his body against the back of the couch and into the sheath of blankets.
"You can't be going to sleep after ... now." Sirius' voice was a mix of agitation and disappointment. He stood up and stared at the mussed head peeping out of the covers.
Remus blinked open his eyes to see attentiveness; the most concentrated look of attachment he'd ever seen on anyone's face. Sirius put his hands in his pockets and turned.
Perhaps it was sleepiness and mild drunkenness. Perhaps it was just what Remus wanted desperately at the moment. Then again maybe it was something he'd been half-waiting for and half-expecting for a long time. He lazily lifted up one side of the cocoon and called out "Padfoot."
Sirius turned around, hesitant hope quickly turning into a broad grin on seeing the invitation. After a moment he walked awkwardly over to the couch, sat on the edge, and leaned in.
Remus was propped up on pillows and Sirius was coming at him at an unusual angle but their lips met surely, gently. Hot breath buffered cheeks and chins as their mouths nudged together experimentally and tongues touched tentatively. They sucked each other in and poured themselves out for seconds, minutes.
Remus reached his hands to Sirius' chest, sliding ... and then pushing away. Sirius was left mouthing the air.
"Huh ... what?" Sirius managed confusedly. His dark eyes were pooled, deep and intense.
Remus couldn't suppress a brief laugh at his bewilderment, before moving on to matters at hand. "Get your jeans off, for chrissakes, and your shoes, and get under the covers," he said sleepily-sternly.
Sirius burst out laughing and fumbled with buckles and laces, and than positively threw himself down to lay beside Remus.
They kissed without hurry for a little while, both appreciating every new touch and taste and feeling for what it was.
Remus eventually yawned again, which sent Sirius yawning; they smiled for what seemed like the stupid-most time that night. Sirius slid down and undid the top buttons of Remus' pyjama top, alarming Remus just slightly, for a fraction of a thought. But then Sirius rested his dark, foolish head against the smooth, warm chest and breathed in. Remus fell further back into the pillows and breathed out and the night faded into darkness.