So That's What 1667 Feels Like
Summary: Getting drunk is so much more fun if you don't have to drink
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Author's Notelet: I was inspired by watching Brainiac last night for this fic. I'm also going to do NaNoWriMo this year, so I wanted to see what it felt like to write 1667 words of a story in one day, without self-editing or any kind of beta.
Rating: PG-13 for sexual situations
“My Sirius is a genius, so genius is my Sirius, if he was not a genius, he would not be my Sirius!”
The sound of joyful singing bounced off the walls of the sauna, as Sirius Black settled back into his towel, face alight with mirth. Remus Lupin was not impressed.
“I am not going to sing that.”
“Why not? You’re merely frightened because you know it’s true.”
“Padfoot, this was a stupid idea in the first place.”
“Um. No.”
“No?”
Sirius grinned, splashing another ladleful of vodka onto the coals.
“No, I’m afraid you’re wrong. It is objectively the most amazing plan in the world.”
The young werewolf twitched his towel irritably.
“Because boiling hot alcohol is always a laugh?”
“Precisely!”
The Remus Lupin Glare of Ultimate Doom and Suffering © was being oddly ineffective today. Sirius continued to sing the Genius Song.
He broke off. “Look, if we keep just getting drunk the regular way, we’ll never broaden our horizons, or get rid of all those pesky inhibitions.”
“Why don’t we just drip alcohol into our eyeballs and have done with it?”
Sirius sat up, his eyes wide.
“You can do that?”
“… no.”
“Aww.” He relaxed back into his corner, idly toying with the ladle. His skin glistened with sweat, shining tantalisingly in the dim light.
Remus gulped, and twitched his towel once more.
“So, how did you find that transfiguration homework?” he asked hurriedly. The black-haired boy looked at him askance.
“This is not appropriate sauna discussion,” he said, voice full of reproach. “In fact, I really don’t see why you think it’s ever a suitable topic of conversation. Homework, Moony, honestly.”
“Well, what do you propose we talk about?” replied Remus with a sniff.
“I don’t know, let’s see where the mood takes us,” said Sirius, his voice slurring slightly.
“I think the mood is going to take us into drunkenness far quicker than into sparkling wit and banter.”
“We won’t know the difference then, will we?” Sirius stuck out the end of his pink tongue at his companion. Remus flushed.
A few minutes of comfortable silence ensued, while Sirius played with his sweat-damp hair and Remus searched the room for either an escape (Sirius had spelled the door shut) or something from which he could hang himself, using only his towel.
The problem was, he was far too sweaty and would probably just slip straight out again, landing on the coals and scattering them all over the room and needing Sirius to lick his wounds.
Well, the licking part wasn’t so bad. Perhaps if he just tied the towel around this beam…
It was a mark of how inebriated he was becoming that he actually started to untuck his towel before he remembered that he wasn’t going to hang himself, or be naked in a sweaty room with an attractive drunken schoolmate. Really.
“I am far too drunk,” he said decisively, firmly re-tucking his garment.
“There is no such thing as far too drunk!” declared his friend, punctuating the sentence with a flourish of the ladle. Remus raised an eyebrow, then changed his mind and raised the other one. He then decided that having both raised at the same time would prove his point much better, but finally dismissed that idea as overkill and lowered them both into an angry glower.
Sirius grinned and poured a generous helping of vodka over the coals, looking over curiously.
“Ow, fuck!” he cried suddenly, jerking his arm backwards and rubbing at a spot on the inside of his elbow. The other boy immediately scooted over to peer at the reddening patch of flesh.
“Got spat on, did you, Pads?” he said gently, blowing on the wound.
“Mmm, thanks Nurse Moony,” replied Sirius, nuzzling closer to fling an arm around Remus’ neck. “Kiss it better for me?”
The sandy-haired boy bent his head unthinkingly to touch his lips to his friend’s skin, his tongue flicking out to caress the sore area. Suddenly there was hot breath upon his neck and a voice in his ear.
“That’s nice.”
He looked up into his friend’s face.
“Nice?”
Sirius’ nose brushed his, their foreheads touching. He could almost taste the alcohol in his friend’s breath.
“Nice, yeah,” replied the dark boy, breath ghosting over Remus’ lips.
Remus moved, tilting his head upwards to catch Sirius’ mouth in a kiss and tangling his hands in the dark hair. Sirius responded, his tongue darting out into his friend’s mouth and his arms tightening around his neck. They kissed frantically, chests pressed snug against one another and mouths never parting.
Sirius pushed his companion backwards onto the wooden bench, never breaking the kiss, hands flitting over his chest and up his sides. The only thing separating their bodies were their towels, which Sirius’ hands were already creeping under.
Suddenly, the door flew open and revealed a very shocked-looking Severus Snape, clad only in a fluffy pink towel.
The boys broke apart and scrabbled for their wands.
“Obliviate!” shouted Remus, pointing his wand shakily at the Slytherin. Snape’s eyes became unfocussed and he smiled placidly while they pushed him out of the way and ran out of the Prefects’ Sauna, grabbing their clothes as they went.
“Er,” panted Remus as soon as they found a suitably concealed nook in which to get dressed.
“Good thinking on the spell there, Moony,” said Sirius with a grin, pulling on his underwear.
“Thanks,” he replied, wincing as he pulled on his trousers over damp skin. His head was spinning, presumably from the combination of adrenaline and alcohol coursing through his veins. He stumbled against the wall and leant on it, closing his eyes. A heavy weight fell against his legs and he looked down blearily. Sirius peered up at him, shoelaces tangled hopelessly together.
“You’re appallingly incompetent.”
“Nope. Just drunk.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Sirius pulled a face, thinking hard. “Yes,” he replied eventually, kicking off his shoes and grabbing the edge of Remus’ unbuttoned shirt to pull him downwards. The werewolf crumpled, falling gracelessly to his knees and pinning Sirius beneath him.
“Hello,” purred the dark-haired boy, propping himself up on elbows to stick his nose in the crook of Remus’ neck.
“Sirius-” started Remus, warningly.
“Mmm?” said Sirius, the picture of innocence, as he gently kissed the hollow of his throat.
“Nothing,” he replied, suddenly twisting his head to kiss Sirius, thrillingly hard. All the good work that they had done in getting their clothes back on was swiftly reversed and they quickly found themselves almost naked, writhing on top of one another, hands nimbly exploring every available piece of skin, tongues duelling and teeth clashing.
A voice sounded in the corridor outside the curtain behind which they were concealed, breaking into their intimate moment and causing them to stop, remembering where they were.
Remus’ head slumped onto the flagstones with a thump.
“We should probably move to an elsewhere.”
“Mrr,” disagreed Sirius, doubling his grip on Remus’ hips. “Moving is too much effort. Staying here would be much more productive.” Remus was unswayed.
“Away!” he cried, rising to his feet and dragging a reluctant Sirius with him. They sneaked out from behind the curtain and sprinted along the corridors into the relative safety of the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Wotcha, mates,” said James, rising from his seat by the fire. He had a very noticeable black eye and his robes were torn in several places.
“What hap-happened to you?” gulped Remus, in between gasping for air.
“Altercation with Snivellus. I ran into him a few minutes ago and he was clearly drunk and couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He was also naked and sweating like a pig. I gave him a talking-to and he yelled something about me being a homo and punched me in the eye.”
“Ouchie.”
“Quite.”
“How did your robes get so torn up?” asked Sirius curiously, tearing his eyes away from their inspection of Remus’ collarbone.
“I was trying to modify Exploding Snap to be a little more dangerous and I accidentally invented Flying Razors of Death Poker.” He winced. “Not my finest idea, but I think it can be modified into something workable.”
“Good work, mate.”
“Worst thing was, Evans walked in right when I was in the middle of battling the suddenly remarkably sharp playing cards and she called me a homo as well. I just don’t know what’s going on today! I have some air of gayosity around me.”
“Mmm, I can see how that would be a problem,” replied Remus distractedly, tracing a bead of sweat down Sirius’ neck with a fingertip.
Sirius yawned theatrically, stretching his arms out towards the ceiling. “Well, I’m exhausted. I’d better be getting into bed. What do you think, Moony?”
“Oh, I’m actually still quite wide aw-” The Sirius Black Meaningful Glare © was turned on, full beam. “Exhausted. Utterly. Barely staying on my feet. Must go.”
They made their unsteady way up the staircase, leaning on each other for support (and for illicit groping). Remus threw open the door with his free hand and once they were on the other side slammed it shut and locked it with a hasty spell, pushing his companion against it in one smooth movement and thoroughly kissing him.
“Fuck, Padfoot,” he gasped into his mouth as strong hands grasped his arse and an eager tongue began its exploration of his back teeth. They ground against one another needily, making odd little noises and causing the door to shake.
“Riddikulus!” came a shout from outside the door, and they found themselves blasted backwards into the room as the face of a red and quaking Peter appeared through the now-empty frame.
“What,” began Sirius, irate in a pink tutu and combat boots, “the hell was the point in that?”
“Er. Sorry, I thought there was a boggart in here.”
“You were wrong,” Remus pointed out placidly, removing his red nose. “I don’t suppose you could reverse this in any way?”
Peter grinned .........
To Be Continued
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Author's Notelet: I was inspired by watching Brainiac last night for this fic. I'm also going to do NaNoWriMo this year, so I wanted to see what it felt like to write 1667 words of a story in one day, without self-editing or any kind of beta.
Rating: PG-13 for sexual situations
“My Sirius is a genius, so genius is my Sirius, if he was not a genius, he would not be my Sirius!”
The sound of joyful singing bounced off the walls of the sauna, as Sirius Black settled back into his towel, face alight with mirth. Remus Lupin was not impressed.
“I am not going to sing that.”
“Why not? You’re merely frightened because you know it’s true.”
“Padfoot, this was a stupid idea in the first place.”
“Um. No.”
“No?”
Sirius grinned, splashing another ladleful of vodka onto the coals.
“No, I’m afraid you’re wrong. It is objectively the most amazing plan in the world.”
The young werewolf twitched his towel irritably.
“Because boiling hot alcohol is always a laugh?”
“Precisely!”
The Remus Lupin Glare of Ultimate Doom and Suffering © was being oddly ineffective today. Sirius continued to sing the Genius Song.
He broke off. “Look, if we keep just getting drunk the regular way, we’ll never broaden our horizons, or get rid of all those pesky inhibitions.”
“Why don’t we just drip alcohol into our eyeballs and have done with it?”
Sirius sat up, his eyes wide.
“You can do that?”
“… no.”
“Aww.” He relaxed back into his corner, idly toying with the ladle. His skin glistened with sweat, shining tantalisingly in the dim light.
Remus gulped, and twitched his towel once more.
“So, how did you find that transfiguration homework?” he asked hurriedly. The black-haired boy looked at him askance.
“This is not appropriate sauna discussion,” he said, voice full of reproach. “In fact, I really don’t see why you think it’s ever a suitable topic of conversation. Homework, Moony, honestly.”
“Well, what do you propose we talk about?” replied Remus with a sniff.
“I don’t know, let’s see where the mood takes us,” said Sirius, his voice slurring slightly.
“I think the mood is going to take us into drunkenness far quicker than into sparkling wit and banter.”
“We won’t know the difference then, will we?” Sirius stuck out the end of his pink tongue at his companion. Remus flushed.
A few minutes of comfortable silence ensued, while Sirius played with his sweat-damp hair and Remus searched the room for either an escape (Sirius had spelled the door shut) or something from which he could hang himself, using only his towel.
The problem was, he was far too sweaty and would probably just slip straight out again, landing on the coals and scattering them all over the room and needing Sirius to lick his wounds.
Well, the licking part wasn’t so bad. Perhaps if he just tied the towel around this beam…
It was a mark of how inebriated he was becoming that he actually started to untuck his towel before he remembered that he wasn’t going to hang himself, or be naked in a sweaty room with an attractive drunken schoolmate. Really.
“I am far too drunk,” he said decisively, firmly re-tucking his garment.
“There is no such thing as far too drunk!” declared his friend, punctuating the sentence with a flourish of the ladle. Remus raised an eyebrow, then changed his mind and raised the other one. He then decided that having both raised at the same time would prove his point much better, but finally dismissed that idea as overkill and lowered them both into an angry glower.
Sirius grinned and poured a generous helping of vodka over the coals, looking over curiously.
“Ow, fuck!” he cried suddenly, jerking his arm backwards and rubbing at a spot on the inside of his elbow. The other boy immediately scooted over to peer at the reddening patch of flesh.
“Got spat on, did you, Pads?” he said gently, blowing on the wound.
“Mmm, thanks Nurse Moony,” replied Sirius, nuzzling closer to fling an arm around Remus’ neck. “Kiss it better for me?”
The sandy-haired boy bent his head unthinkingly to touch his lips to his friend’s skin, his tongue flicking out to caress the sore area. Suddenly there was hot breath upon his neck and a voice in his ear.
“That’s nice.”
He looked up into his friend’s face.
“Nice?”
Sirius’ nose brushed his, their foreheads touching. He could almost taste the alcohol in his friend’s breath.
“Nice, yeah,” replied the dark boy, breath ghosting over Remus’ lips.
Remus moved, tilting his head upwards to catch Sirius’ mouth in a kiss and tangling his hands in the dark hair. Sirius responded, his tongue darting out into his friend’s mouth and his arms tightening around his neck. They kissed frantically, chests pressed snug against one another and mouths never parting.
Sirius pushed his companion backwards onto the wooden bench, never breaking the kiss, hands flitting over his chest and up his sides. The only thing separating their bodies were their towels, which Sirius’ hands were already creeping under.
Suddenly, the door flew open and revealed a very shocked-looking Severus Snape, clad only in a fluffy pink towel.
The boys broke apart and scrabbled for their wands.
“Obliviate!” shouted Remus, pointing his wand shakily at the Slytherin. Snape’s eyes became unfocussed and he smiled placidly while they pushed him out of the way and ran out of the Prefects’ Sauna, grabbing their clothes as they went.
“Er,” panted Remus as soon as they found a suitably concealed nook in which to get dressed.
“Good thinking on the spell there, Moony,” said Sirius with a grin, pulling on his underwear.
“Thanks,” he replied, wincing as he pulled on his trousers over damp skin. His head was spinning, presumably from the combination of adrenaline and alcohol coursing through his veins. He stumbled against the wall and leant on it, closing his eyes. A heavy weight fell against his legs and he looked down blearily. Sirius peered up at him, shoelaces tangled hopelessly together.
“You’re appallingly incompetent.”
“Nope. Just drunk.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Sirius pulled a face, thinking hard. “Yes,” he replied eventually, kicking off his shoes and grabbing the edge of Remus’ unbuttoned shirt to pull him downwards. The werewolf crumpled, falling gracelessly to his knees and pinning Sirius beneath him.
“Hello,” purred the dark-haired boy, propping himself up on elbows to stick his nose in the crook of Remus’ neck.
“Sirius-” started Remus, warningly.
“Mmm?” said Sirius, the picture of innocence, as he gently kissed the hollow of his throat.
“Nothing,” he replied, suddenly twisting his head to kiss Sirius, thrillingly hard. All the good work that they had done in getting their clothes back on was swiftly reversed and they quickly found themselves almost naked, writhing on top of one another, hands nimbly exploring every available piece of skin, tongues duelling and teeth clashing.
A voice sounded in the corridor outside the curtain behind which they were concealed, breaking into their intimate moment and causing them to stop, remembering where they were.
Remus’ head slumped onto the flagstones with a thump.
“We should probably move to an elsewhere.”
“Mrr,” disagreed Sirius, doubling his grip on Remus’ hips. “Moving is too much effort. Staying here would be much more productive.” Remus was unswayed.
“Away!” he cried, rising to his feet and dragging a reluctant Sirius with him. They sneaked out from behind the curtain and sprinted along the corridors into the relative safety of the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Wotcha, mates,” said James, rising from his seat by the fire. He had a very noticeable black eye and his robes were torn in several places.
“What hap-happened to you?” gulped Remus, in between gasping for air.
“Altercation with Snivellus. I ran into him a few minutes ago and he was clearly drunk and couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He was also naked and sweating like a pig. I gave him a talking-to and he yelled something about me being a homo and punched me in the eye.”
“Ouchie.”
“Quite.”
“How did your robes get so torn up?” asked Sirius curiously, tearing his eyes away from their inspection of Remus’ collarbone.
“I was trying to modify Exploding Snap to be a little more dangerous and I accidentally invented Flying Razors of Death Poker.” He winced. “Not my finest idea, but I think it can be modified into something workable.”
“Good work, mate.”
“Worst thing was, Evans walked in right when I was in the middle of battling the suddenly remarkably sharp playing cards and she called me a homo as well. I just don’t know what’s going on today! I have some air of gayosity around me.”
“Mmm, I can see how that would be a problem,” replied Remus distractedly, tracing a bead of sweat down Sirius’ neck with a fingertip.
Sirius yawned theatrically, stretching his arms out towards the ceiling. “Well, I’m exhausted. I’d better be getting into bed. What do you think, Moony?”
“Oh, I’m actually still quite wide aw-” The Sirius Black Meaningful Glare © was turned on, full beam. “Exhausted. Utterly. Barely staying on my feet. Must go.”
They made their unsteady way up the staircase, leaning on each other for support (and for illicit groping). Remus threw open the door with his free hand and once they were on the other side slammed it shut and locked it with a hasty spell, pushing his companion against it in one smooth movement and thoroughly kissing him.
“Fuck, Padfoot,” he gasped into his mouth as strong hands grasped his arse and an eager tongue began its exploration of his back teeth. They ground against one another needily, making odd little noises and causing the door to shake.
“Riddikulus!” came a shout from outside the door, and they found themselves blasted backwards into the room as the face of a red and quaking Peter appeared through the now-empty frame.
“What,” began Sirius, irate in a pink tutu and combat boots, “the hell was the point in that?”
“Er. Sorry, I thought there was a boggart in here.”
“You were wrong,” Remus pointed out placidly, removing his red nose. “I don’t suppose you could reverse this in any way?”
Peter grinned .........
To Be Continued