Christmas Fic: Floo Settings (Or, In-Finite)
CHRISTMAS PRESENT!!! ^-^
This is for
ruffians , and it's the only one I've got done so far (people at school will kill me tomorrow T.T) but she super wants it and I'm super prooud of it, so here it is!
Umm... does it has a title? *checks* no! *makes one up on the spot*
Title: Floo Settings (Or, In-Finite)
Word Count: 4,235
Rating: R
Pairing: Sirius/Remus, Lily/James implied
Era: The year after the Marauders graduate
Warnings: Rimming, almost songfic, Floo HTML ^-^;; you'll see; subtle crossoverness.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, spells, concepts, and technologies are the property of JKR. Susan, Sally, and Jane are the property of the creaters of Coupling, which you should definitely watch.
Summary: Please don't drop me home, because it's not my home it's their home and I'm welcome no more.
Additional note: PLEASE read the Floo settings, at the end especially--I DID name the fic after them, after all, so you really ought to pay attention to them.
[floo id="Remus Lupin"]
[settings]
[caller id=“Sirius Black”]
[sound effect=“phone” vol=“high”]
[fire effect=“flash” color1=“black” color2="none"]
[/caller]
[/settings]
[/floo]
Remus sighs, glancing between the ringing fireplace and the leftover takeout he just got out of the cupboard. The flames flash between black and their normal orange, so it's Sirius; Sirius is worth delaying dinner for. Remus sits in the chair by the fire and taps his fingers against the third brick down from the left in the mantle.
Sirius’ head appears in a swirl of green. “Hallo, Remus!” he says brightly, his cheeriness seeming out of place. He looks thinner than he was at graduation, and little wonder, if Mrs. Potter is no longer sending him the same sort of care packages James still receives. Sirius was never really able to take care of himself.
“Hello, Padfoot.” Remus smiles down at his friend’s upside-down head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your head’s company?”
Sirius grins. “What are you doing tonight?”
He obviously expects “nothing” as an answer, so Remus smiles more widely and leads him on a bit.
“Actually, I have a date.”
Sirius’ face crumples slightly, but he brightens again almost before Remus notices. “With who? Is she pretty?”
“She’s absolutely delicious,” Remus answers. “She’s Indian.”
Sirius’ eyes widen. “An exotic! Moony, I didn’t think you had it in you! And you’re making her dinner at your flat?”
“Actually, she is dinner.” Remus laughs at Sirius’ confused look. “I have a carton of leftover curry waiting for me. No girl.”
“Well, screw that,” Sirius says emphatically. “We’re going to the pub tonight.”
Remus raises an eyebrow. “You’re dragging me off to drink my dinner? Sirius, my liver won’t stand for this.”
“Posh. You’re liver’s stronger than mine. Can you drive? I don't have a car."
***
"Look at the blonde by the door."
Susan shakes her head. "You don't look good with blondes, Sally. Leave him to Jane. Try the tawny one by the bar, he's cute," she adds appreciatively.
Sally would shake her head, but the skin of her neck might wrinkle. "He has too many issues. Probably in love already. Unrequited."
"Are you afraid his issues might overshadow your own?" Jane asks with mock concern.
"The scar on his face certainly is sexy," Susan says, leaning forward. "I wonder how he got it."
"He was probably with the military," Sally says dismissively. "Look at the man he's with, though. That's more than gay gorgeous-he's knitting pattern gorgeous!"
"He is gay, though," Jane responds. "He hasn't looked at a single girl the whole time we've been here."
"Maybe he's taken," Susan offers.
"He'd still look," Sally says.
Susan retorts sharply. "Maybe he's faithful."
"He's a man, Susan. That sort of faithfulness is asking too much."
"Maybe he is gay, then. Do you think the tawny one is his date?"
"Of course not. He's in the closet, or else he'd be at the gay bar down the street." Susan stands up. "I'm going to go talk to him."
"You mean flirt, right?" Jane means it as a statement, not a question.
"What for?" Sally asks disdainfully. "He's gay."
"Yes, but his friend isn't." With that, Susan saunters off towards the two men at the bar.
***
Sirius avoids eye contact with anyone but Remus; he has no interest in unattached girls and attached ones come with consequences-not that he has any interest in them, either. Despite this, one approaches him every several minutes without fail.
"Here comes another one," Remus warns, looking over Sirius' shoulder.
Sirius turns, and indeed, an outrageously curvy blonde is smiling seductively at him. Without changing his expression or acknowledging her at all, he turns back to Remus. "Well?"
Remus smiles. "She's from Scandinavia and speaks little English. She's here because her rich father wants to marry her off to some other rich man-preferably a very old one-before her twenty-fifth. Her name is Ana, and she's only got a few weeks left before her birthday; she's looking for some fun before she has to marry."
Sirius laughs at Remus' ridiculous approximation as the girl slides into the stool next to him. "Double Mojito on the rocks," she tells the bartender. When Sirius doesn't react, she turns to him. "Aren't you going to offer to buy my drink?" she asks, coyly leaning towards him to provide him with the best view of her cleavage.
"I wasn't going to, no," Sirius responds. "Though you might try asking my lonely friend here. What say you, Remus?" he asks playfully. "Going to buy this lovely lady's drink?"
Remus glares disdainfully at the girl. He's frightening when he does this, and the few old scars on his face don't alleviate that image. He growls a few words that sound German (his large nose being the main convincing agent of this ruse) and she stand hurriedly, grabbing her drink from the bartender.
"Sorry, I'll just. I'll go now. Er, see you around." She disappears into the crowd. Sirius laughs and turns back to Moony.
"Another success story. Shall we drink to it?"
In response Remus grunts a few more German syllables and knocks back the last of his whiskey. He grimaced. "Doesn't quite have the same bite as Firewhiskey, does it?"
"It would if it weren't so damn cheap." Sirius sighs. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty sick of these girls. What do you say we call it a night?"
***
After several minutes of driving, or rather of watching the change in Remus' usually expressive face when he's concentrating (it happens when he reads too, Sirius knows), something occurs to Sirius' alcohol-fuzzied brain. "Remus," he slurs, "shouldn't we have gotten a… thing? Yellow thing?"
"If you're referring to a cab, Sirius," Remus replies, not sounding at all drunk, "I can neither afford to pay one nor to leave my car in the midst of Muggle London."
Sirius pouts. "How're you sounding so… smartly? S'not fair. You drank s'much s'I did."
Remus chuckles, and Sirius drinks in the smile it brings. "You said it yourself: my liver is stronger than yours. Shall I take you back to yours?"
A frown of confusion creases Sirius' forehead. "Take me back to my liver?"
Remus laughs again. "No, you prat. Take you back to your flat."
The confusion dissipates, leaving only the frown. His flat is full of disconcerting scuttling noises behind cracked walls and inside stained ceilings. "No," he says, "let's go to yours. I'll cook you dinner," he adds, as incentive for Remus to say yes. Remus' flat is full of all the same things as Sirius', but Remus' flat also has Remus.
"You'd have to sleep on the couch," Remus warns. "We'd be up till at least four."
Sirius shrugs. "S'never killed us before."
"Well all right then." Remus flicks one of the car's mysterious levers upwards and an arrow pointing left begins to blink on and off along with a drastically irritating clicking sound. A moment later, Remus swerves into a side road and the blinking and sound stop. A tunnel looms ahead, the light from its mouth seeming too dim to be normal. "I wish they'd fix some of the lights in here," Remus comments as they enter the tunnel. "It makes it hard to see the curves." He flicks the same random lever in a different direction and the headlights get brighter.
Sirius watches Remus' impassive face, lit intermittently in harsh orange. There's a scar on his cheek, still new; his eyes in the orange light seem tawnier than usual. The alcohol is making Sirius' thoughts fuzzy, so if Remus seems beautiful it's not because Sirius wants him or anything; he's just drunk. Remus is an enigma, he always has been, and it fascinates Sirius-how can anyone keep everything so well hidden? He concedes he doesn’t need to answer that question; he did it long enough, and look what’s happened since he's stopped: no contact from James or Pete in weeks. Remus was more understanding, possibly because he knew what it was like to be a freak of nature. Not that Remus is a freak of nature, but Sirius knows Remus thinks of himself that way.
"What are you planning on making?"
Sirius blinks, slightly startled. "I hadn't thought. Why?"
"I don't have much at mine. Indian takeout is all, really. There's an all-night grocery nearby; do you want to stop by there?"
"Sure." Sirius smiles as Remus' eyes flick towards him briefly. "Thanks."
Remus' lips twitch. "For what?"
"Not hating me."
The twitch spreads into a full-blown smile, Remus' eyes on the road the whole time. "Just returning the favor, really."
Sirius drinks in the smile like a flower the sun.
***
The grocery is harshly lit in fluorescent, even at one AM. Sirius buys a pre-cooked frozen beef roast because it will cook quickly and Remus likes beef. He also buys two half-pound bars of chocolate and a bottle of Merlot for Remus, for dessert.
The checkout girl is overly thin, especially considering her subtly rounded belly, but she smiles at Sirius all the same. He gives her the last of his Muggle money, a twenty-pound note, and she gives him ten forty-eight in change.
He hesitates to pick up the bag and leave; he wants to tell her something, something to connect them, something to convince her she needs to feed her baby. Nothing comes, and he leaves.
"What took you?" Remus asks, gunning the engine as Sirius climbs in.
"I didn't take long at all," Sirius retorts. "Anyway, I know you were just reading that book you keep in the glove box." They're already halfway out of the parking lot." D'you always buy Muggle stuff?"
"I am paid in Muggle money."
Sirius sighs. "I hate what they do to you, Moony."
Remus glances sharply at him. "They'd do the same to you if they knew, and worse. You're just lucky enough to have a secret you can keep."
Sirius reaches out and squeezes Remus' shoulder. "Doesn't make it right. Doesn't mean I can't sympathize."
Remus nods once, eyes flicking from the road to one mirror to the next. A spot of white emerges in the distance, gradually separating into headlights. Behind it, brighter headlights, and the high-up orange warning lights that mean hey I'm a big car big car big car.
Without warning the large vehicle-a double-decker bus-swerves into their lane and speeds up. "Fuck," Remus hisses, slamming on the brakes and pounding the steering wheel once. Sirius wonders why until Remus' hand actually connects and the car starts shrieking, like its life depended on it, which Sirius supposes (in the tiny part of his brain that isn't also screaming in terror) it might.
The bus comes closer, not slowing, in fact moving faster, and Sirius is terrified. "Remus," he chokes, grabbing for Moony's arm-but Remus shakes him off and steers towards the side of the road, hand still pressed to the center of the wheel, car still screaming. The bus is about to hit them; Sirius' heart is pounding in his ears; they're not close enough to the side; that's odd because his heart is in his stomach; all he can see are the headlights; his body is filled with adrenaline-and the bus turns back into its own lane, just barely missing them and somehow ahead of the car it had been passing.
Sirius becomes aware of several things all at once: he is clutching Remus' shirt at the shoulder; he is half-hard from fear; he is no longer drunk; the car has stopped; Remus is breathing heavily. Slowly he relaxes, his hand dropping from Remus' shoulder to his own lap, his breath hissing from him slowly. Remus' nostrils flare slightly, but other than a frightening glint in his eye, he seems almost normal.
He flicks his eyes toward Sirius. "Are you all right?"
"Just terrified," Sirius answers.
"I can smell." Remus smiles, and the glint in his eye fades. He reaches to the side, his hand hovering strangely over the gearshift (maybe a little to the left of it?) before dropping heavily on the black ball. "Dying with you, though," he says distantly, " wouldn't be so bad."
Sirius smiles. "You must be drunk. Get out and let me drive."
***
Sirius cut the meat into thin sheets before baking, then piled the hot beef onto thick bread (which Remus didn't actually have, so Sirius substituted white bread instead) with cheese and mustard and lettuce. Now the paper plates are empty, the leftovers are put away, and since Sirius' adrenaline is gone he can tell he's drunk again.
Now that Remus isn't concentrating on the road, he's much more expressive, and Sirius is focused rather fuzzily on those expressions. He hid the Merlot and the chocolate before dinner, and Remus produced a rather uncharacteristic bottle of Firewhiskey soon after, so Sirius feels it rude to offer the wine. Remus will find it soon enough anyway.
"Remus," Sirius says, "your carpet is evil."
Remus raises an eyebrow. This eyebrow says "Sirius, you have been smoking far too much Gillyweed."
"Look at it!" Sirius insists, gesturing. "The pattern. It looks like the devil's face, over and over and over and over and over…" He tilts his head to the left to align his face with the 'devil's', and would have continued saying 'over and over and over and…' forever had Remus' paper plate not hit him in the head with frightening accuracy. "Helloooo, Mr. Devil Man," he says instead. "You gonna kill me tonight?"
Remus, surprisingly, laughs at this, and Sirius' insides share in his head's fuzzy feeling for a moment. "That's the reaper, Sirius, not the devil."
"You mean the grim one?" Sirius giggles too, swinging his legs up over the arm of the chair he's sitting in, taking a swig of Firewhiskey, and thinking it odd that he just used the word 'giggle' to describe his own actions. "What time's it?"
"There's a clock right there." Remus points. Unfortunately, he appears to be pointing at Sirius' head.
"Thass too far 'way." Sirius pouts. "And behind me, and you still don' sound very drunk. Why can't you read it?"
"It's three-thirty."
Sirius looks, puzzled, at the window. "Then why's it so dark?"
"It's three thirty in the morning, you git. If you don't even remember that, I'd think it's time for you to stop drinking." Remus stands, too gracefully for someone who's had as much as he has, and takes Sirius' drink. "Go piss, and I'll get you some blankets."
Sirius pouts but goes. By the time he gets back there is bedding aplenty (did my mind really just say that? he asks himself, I really am drunk) and Remus has gone, so Sirius shakes the more threadbare of the two blankets over the couch and covers himself with the other. He barely has time to pull the pillow under his head before he falls asleep.
***
There is hangover potion on the side table when Sirius wakes up, and a plate of Muggle toaster waffles (with margarine, Sirius notes as he bites into the first one, not butter) on the coffee table, covered by a warming charm. They're food, even if they're not the gourmet sort Kreacher used to make, and he washes down each bite with potion.
When he's done he takes his plate into the kitchen to throw it away, and finds a note stuck to the bottom of it: "You'll have to take a cab home; you're sleeping like a rock and I have to go to work. -Moony".
Sirius smiles, tucks the note in his pocket, and takes a cab home.
***
Later that night Sirius is sitting by his fire and dreading the end of his weekend when someone knocks on his flat door. Of course they're not just someone, but Remus, because most people knock five times by default and Remus knocks four.
Not that anyone ever knocks on Sirius' door anymore.
Sirius gets up and answers and Remus is holding the chocolate and the Merlot, and he's dressed in his least threadbare robes (the ones with just one patch, on the hem), and he's… he looks different.
Awkward.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius asks, stepping aside so Remus can enter.
"I just thought I'd pop in and share the wine you bought. I'm guessing you did buy it to share, and it's never any good to drink alone." Remus smiles. "And of course you chose the wine that goes well with chocolate."
Sirius grins lopsidedly. "In summation, I rock, right?"
Remus smiles back. "In summation, you rock." He still seems a bit awkward, just standing there holding the wine and chocolate even though he knows full well where the glasses are. Sirius takes the wine from Remus and indicates Remus' favorite chair with a tip of his head, saying "You could sit down," then goes into the kitchen to fetch glasses.
When he comes back he pauses in the doorway; Remus is sitting, but his eyes are closed and he is breathing very deliberately, as if trying to relax. He is holding a piece of chocolate to his mouth and nibbling the edges slowly; after a moment he sucks the whole piece into his mouth, his nostrils flare, and he looks up.
Sirius grins. "You enjoy that stuff far too much."
Remus smiles. "It's calming," he says, and breaks off another piece of chocolate. Sirius sits on the couch on the end closer to Remus' chair and pours the wine into two actual wineglasses. Remus takes his and swirls it under his nose.
To anyone but Sirius and possibly James, Remus is simply enjoying the wine's bouquet. Sirius, however, can tell that Remus is distracted. He reaches over and taps Remus' arm. "You okay, mate?"
Remus blinks at him. "Yes," he answers.
Sirius is sure that it is true. He is also sure there is more to it. "Talk to me," he says. "What's wrong?"
Remus smiles lopsidedly. When Sirius smiles that way, it means he's being fun. When Remus smiles that way, it is wry; he's not really happy. "I smelled something on you last night," he begins.
Sirius laughs. "What, alcohol?"
Remus shakes his head. "That, too, but… something else. I mean… you always smell affectionate, which is natural because we're friends, but…" He breaks eye contact and looks at the floor, his cheeks flushing red. "You were giving off more testosterone than usual."
Sirius sits back, confused. "What do you mean?"
Remus' red turns crimson. He works his mouth for a moment, as if trying to say something, and finally he forces it out: "You were horny. You wanted me."
Sirius exhales all at once. Remus knows, now. What James was so afraid of has come to pass with Remus, and now Remus has found out, and Remus will leave, and Sirius won't have anyone left. For several seconds he just stares. "You…" he whispers, and then, "I can't deny what you already know. I'll miss you, Moony."
He stands to go into his bedroom, but as he closes the door he finds it obstructed. Remus is holding it open effortlessly, laughter in his eyes. Sirius glares, which only makes Remus laugh harder. "You don't understand," Remus says, and kisses him.
It's a good, proper kiss: all soft moving lips and hard warm body, but Sirius can't move, can't breathe, can't even close his eyes. He is left staring at Remus' eyelids and growing steadily harder but no less stunned. Remus finally breaks away and is blushing again, and it is the most adorable thing Sirius has ever seen. He reaches out and folds Remus against his chest and squeezes as hard as he can because he knows it's okay, Remus isn't fragile, and sobs once. "God,," he breathes, "Merlin, Remus, Moony-god!"
He's no longer really able to stand, so he turns and leans against Moony against the nearest wall; he's not really capable of speech, so he just kisses Moony again-and again and again. He has wanted and wanted and wanted and now he has, and Remus' lips feel smooth even thought they look chapped, and contrary to all of Sirius' fantasies he can hardly even think about sex despite his aching erection, just kissing, just holding and kissing.
Remus shoves him away, hard, and for a second Sirius is terrified that somehow that first kiss meant something other than what he thought it meant, but what else could it be?, and then he has fallen on the bed and Remus has climbed on top of him and is undoing his robes and Sirius stops thinking anything, just reaches up and pushes ineffectively at Remus' clothing.
Despite Sirius' complete lack of motor skills, Remus manages to get them both undressed. Sirius presses himself flush against Remus, arching his back against the bed to do so. "Wanted you so long, Remus," he murmurs, more unself-conscious than he has ever been, and Remus pushes him back down into the bed and murmurs back, "Wanted you too-want you," and then grabs him by the hips and turns him over and Sirius gasps, more aroused by this simple act of dominance than he thought he could ever be by anything.
Remus starts at the shoulders, biting fiercely and then licking and kissing to soothe the skin. He scrapes his upper teeth over Sirius' shoulder blade, and Sirius shudders. "Moony," he moans, wanting more, humping the sheets for the friction, but Remus pins him down and continues his oral exploration of Sirius' back in the same pattern: bite, lick, kiss, scrape. Sirius is writhing by the time Remus' hands cup each side of his arse, squeezing and kneading as if it were breasts, then pulling them apart and licking. Sirius keens loudly, pressing his face into the pillow to muffle himself, and ohgod Remus was pushing now, pressing with his tongue at Sirius' hole, and Sirius feels his limbs turn to jelly; he can't move, can't even writhe, can only moan and whimper as Remus tonguefucks him.
After an eternity Remus licks his way up Sirius' spine again and presses himself against Sirius' back, his erection nudging the spot he was just kissing. "Do you have any lube?" he asks breathlessly, and Sirius can only flop one hand in the direction of his bedside table.
It's enough, though. Remus gets the lube out while simultaneously nudging Sirius' legs apart with his knees; a moment later there is a cold slick finger at Sirius' entrance, barely penetrating. Sirius moans and Remus freezes, asking "Did I hurt you?"
"No, just get on with it," Sirius hisses, and pushes himself backwards, forcing Remus' finger in to the knuckle. Slowly, Remus begins to slide his finger in and out, carefully. "More," Sirius begs, lifting his hips off the bed; he feels wanton and submissive, but Remus rewards him with another finger and he decides he doesn't care so long as those fingers keep doing that.
Without warning Remus completely removes both fingers, and Sirius collapses flat on the bed, whimpering. The lid to the lube bottle clicks open, clicks shut again a moment later, and the next moment Remus is pressing slowly, gently into him. Sirius grunts; it hurts, but not enough to ask him to stop. Remus snakes one arm around Sirius' waist and draws him up to his hands and knees, one still lube-slicked hand stroking his cock.
Once Remus is fully sheathed he stops moving. Sirius is grateful; it gives him a chance to adjust to this larger than ever before intrusion. Slowly Remus begins rocking back and forth, enough so that Sirius feels it inside him but not so much it hurts. He gradually lengthens each stroke until he is actually fucking Sirius, and Sirius throws his head back and moans and thinks is his hair tossed over his back like that sexy?
Then Remus starts fucking faster and Sirius doesn't think at all, just moans and writhes and God, who knew anything could feel so good? Remus too is breathing heavily, and then he leans back a bit, or something, and Sirius screams: "Ahh!" and comes ten strokes later.
It's the best orgasm he's ever had, the only one he's achieved with another person, and he collapses heavily into his own spunk, unable to hold himself up any longer. A few more seconds pass and then Remus jerks once, moans, and God, Sirius can feel him coming inside him.
Remus recovers first, pushing himself up off of Sirius and reaching for his wand. Sirius whimpers at the disconnect, but lets Remus cast cleaning charms and the charm that lays the blankets over you without you having to move. As soon as Remus sets down his wand, Sirius pulls him against his chest, feeling needy and affectionate. Remus pushes one deceptively thin leg under Sirius' and the other between his thighs and nuzzles Sirius' stubble. "Does that light," he asks, tilting his head towards the Muggle night-light Sirius has yet to be able to remove from its socket, "never go out?"
"It doesn't," Sirius says. "Go to sleep, Moony."
***
[floo id="James Potter" id2="Lily Evans"]
[settings]
[caller id="Remus Lupin" id2="Sirius Black"]
[sound effect="phone" vol="med"]
[fire effect="none"]
[/caller ]
[/settings]
[/floo]
[floo id="Peter Pettigrew"]
[settings]
[caller id="Remus Lupin" id2="Sirius Black"]
[fire effect="ignore"]
[/caller]
[caller id="James Potter" id2=Lily Evans"]
[fire effect="ignore"]
[/caller]
[/settings]
[/floo]
in-finite
This is for
ruffians , and it's the only one I've got done so far (people at school will kill me tomorrow T.T) but she super wants it and I'm super prooud of it, so here it is!
Umm... does it has a title? *checks* no! *makes one up on the spot*
Title: Floo Settings (Or, In-Finite)
Word Count: 4,235
Rating: R
Pairing: Sirius/Remus, Lily/James implied
Era: The year after the Marauders graduate
Warnings: Rimming, almost songfic, Floo HTML ^-^;; you'll see; subtle crossoverness.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, spells, concepts, and technologies are the property of JKR. Susan, Sally, and Jane are the property of the creaters of Coupling, which you should definitely watch.
Summary: Please don't drop me home, because it's not my home it's their home and I'm welcome no more.
Additional note: PLEASE read the Floo settings, at the end especially--I DID name the fic after them, after all, so you really ought to pay attention to them.
[floo id="Remus Lupin"]
[settings]
[caller id=“Sirius Black”]
[sound effect=“phone” vol=“high”]
[fire effect=“flash” color1=“black” color2="none"]
[/caller]
[/settings]
[/floo]
Remus sighs, glancing between the ringing fireplace and the leftover takeout he just got out of the cupboard. The flames flash between black and their normal orange, so it's Sirius; Sirius is worth delaying dinner for. Remus sits in the chair by the fire and taps his fingers against the third brick down from the left in the mantle.
Sirius’ head appears in a swirl of green. “Hallo, Remus!” he says brightly, his cheeriness seeming out of place. He looks thinner than he was at graduation, and little wonder, if Mrs. Potter is no longer sending him the same sort of care packages James still receives. Sirius was never really able to take care of himself.
“Hello, Padfoot.” Remus smiles down at his friend’s upside-down head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your head’s company?”
Sirius grins. “What are you doing tonight?”
He obviously expects “nothing” as an answer, so Remus smiles more widely and leads him on a bit.
“Actually, I have a date.”
Sirius’ face crumples slightly, but he brightens again almost before Remus notices. “With who? Is she pretty?”
“She’s absolutely delicious,” Remus answers. “She’s Indian.”
Sirius’ eyes widen. “An exotic! Moony, I didn’t think you had it in you! And you’re making her dinner at your flat?”
“Actually, she is dinner.” Remus laughs at Sirius’ confused look. “I have a carton of leftover curry waiting for me. No girl.”
“Well, screw that,” Sirius says emphatically. “We’re going to the pub tonight.”
Remus raises an eyebrow. “You’re dragging me off to drink my dinner? Sirius, my liver won’t stand for this.”
“Posh. You’re liver’s stronger than mine. Can you drive? I don't have a car."
***
"Look at the blonde by the door."
Susan shakes her head. "You don't look good with blondes, Sally. Leave him to Jane. Try the tawny one by the bar, he's cute," she adds appreciatively.
Sally would shake her head, but the skin of her neck might wrinkle. "He has too many issues. Probably in love already. Unrequited."
"Are you afraid his issues might overshadow your own?" Jane asks with mock concern.
"The scar on his face certainly is sexy," Susan says, leaning forward. "I wonder how he got it."
"He was probably with the military," Sally says dismissively. "Look at the man he's with, though. That's more than gay gorgeous-he's knitting pattern gorgeous!"
"He is gay, though," Jane responds. "He hasn't looked at a single girl the whole time we've been here."
"Maybe he's taken," Susan offers.
"He'd still look," Sally says.
Susan retorts sharply. "Maybe he's faithful."
"He's a man, Susan. That sort of faithfulness is asking too much."
"Maybe he is gay, then. Do you think the tawny one is his date?"
"Of course not. He's in the closet, or else he'd be at the gay bar down the street." Susan stands up. "I'm going to go talk to him."
"You mean flirt, right?" Jane means it as a statement, not a question.
"What for?" Sally asks disdainfully. "He's gay."
"Yes, but his friend isn't." With that, Susan saunters off towards the two men at the bar.
***
Sirius avoids eye contact with anyone but Remus; he has no interest in unattached girls and attached ones come with consequences-not that he has any interest in them, either. Despite this, one approaches him every several minutes without fail.
"Here comes another one," Remus warns, looking over Sirius' shoulder.
Sirius turns, and indeed, an outrageously curvy blonde is smiling seductively at him. Without changing his expression or acknowledging her at all, he turns back to Remus. "Well?"
Remus smiles. "She's from Scandinavia and speaks little English. She's here because her rich father wants to marry her off to some other rich man-preferably a very old one-before her twenty-fifth. Her name is Ana, and she's only got a few weeks left before her birthday; she's looking for some fun before she has to marry."
Sirius laughs at Remus' ridiculous approximation as the girl slides into the stool next to him. "Double Mojito on the rocks," she tells the bartender. When Sirius doesn't react, she turns to him. "Aren't you going to offer to buy my drink?" she asks, coyly leaning towards him to provide him with the best view of her cleavage.
"I wasn't going to, no," Sirius responds. "Though you might try asking my lonely friend here. What say you, Remus?" he asks playfully. "Going to buy this lovely lady's drink?"
Remus glares disdainfully at the girl. He's frightening when he does this, and the few old scars on his face don't alleviate that image. He growls a few words that sound German (his large nose being the main convincing agent of this ruse) and she stand hurriedly, grabbing her drink from the bartender.
"Sorry, I'll just. I'll go now. Er, see you around." She disappears into the crowd. Sirius laughs and turns back to Moony.
"Another success story. Shall we drink to it?"
In response Remus grunts a few more German syllables and knocks back the last of his whiskey. He grimaced. "Doesn't quite have the same bite as Firewhiskey, does it?"
"It would if it weren't so damn cheap." Sirius sighs. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty sick of these girls. What do you say we call it a night?"
***
After several minutes of driving, or rather of watching the change in Remus' usually expressive face when he's concentrating (it happens when he reads too, Sirius knows), something occurs to Sirius' alcohol-fuzzied brain. "Remus," he slurs, "shouldn't we have gotten a… thing? Yellow thing?"
"If you're referring to a cab, Sirius," Remus replies, not sounding at all drunk, "I can neither afford to pay one nor to leave my car in the midst of Muggle London."
Sirius pouts. "How're you sounding so… smartly? S'not fair. You drank s'much s'I did."
Remus chuckles, and Sirius drinks in the smile it brings. "You said it yourself: my liver is stronger than yours. Shall I take you back to yours?"
A frown of confusion creases Sirius' forehead. "Take me back to my liver?"
Remus laughs again. "No, you prat. Take you back to your flat."
The confusion dissipates, leaving only the frown. His flat is full of disconcerting scuttling noises behind cracked walls and inside stained ceilings. "No," he says, "let's go to yours. I'll cook you dinner," he adds, as incentive for Remus to say yes. Remus' flat is full of all the same things as Sirius', but Remus' flat also has Remus.
"You'd have to sleep on the couch," Remus warns. "We'd be up till at least four."
Sirius shrugs. "S'never killed us before."
"Well all right then." Remus flicks one of the car's mysterious levers upwards and an arrow pointing left begins to blink on and off along with a drastically irritating clicking sound. A moment later, Remus swerves into a side road and the blinking and sound stop. A tunnel looms ahead, the light from its mouth seeming too dim to be normal. "I wish they'd fix some of the lights in here," Remus comments as they enter the tunnel. "It makes it hard to see the curves." He flicks the same random lever in a different direction and the headlights get brighter.
Sirius watches Remus' impassive face, lit intermittently in harsh orange. There's a scar on his cheek, still new; his eyes in the orange light seem tawnier than usual. The alcohol is making Sirius' thoughts fuzzy, so if Remus seems beautiful it's not because Sirius wants him or anything; he's just drunk. Remus is an enigma, he always has been, and it fascinates Sirius-how can anyone keep everything so well hidden? He concedes he doesn’t need to answer that question; he did it long enough, and look what’s happened since he's stopped: no contact from James or Pete in weeks. Remus was more understanding, possibly because he knew what it was like to be a freak of nature. Not that Remus is a freak of nature, but Sirius knows Remus thinks of himself that way.
"What are you planning on making?"
Sirius blinks, slightly startled. "I hadn't thought. Why?"
"I don't have much at mine. Indian takeout is all, really. There's an all-night grocery nearby; do you want to stop by there?"
"Sure." Sirius smiles as Remus' eyes flick towards him briefly. "Thanks."
Remus' lips twitch. "For what?"
"Not hating me."
The twitch spreads into a full-blown smile, Remus' eyes on the road the whole time. "Just returning the favor, really."
Sirius drinks in the smile like a flower the sun.
***
The grocery is harshly lit in fluorescent, even at one AM. Sirius buys a pre-cooked frozen beef roast because it will cook quickly and Remus likes beef. He also buys two half-pound bars of chocolate and a bottle of Merlot for Remus, for dessert.
The checkout girl is overly thin, especially considering her subtly rounded belly, but she smiles at Sirius all the same. He gives her the last of his Muggle money, a twenty-pound note, and she gives him ten forty-eight in change.
He hesitates to pick up the bag and leave; he wants to tell her something, something to connect them, something to convince her she needs to feed her baby. Nothing comes, and he leaves.
"What took you?" Remus asks, gunning the engine as Sirius climbs in.
"I didn't take long at all," Sirius retorts. "Anyway, I know you were just reading that book you keep in the glove box." They're already halfway out of the parking lot." D'you always buy Muggle stuff?"
"I am paid in Muggle money."
Sirius sighs. "I hate what they do to you, Moony."
Remus glances sharply at him. "They'd do the same to you if they knew, and worse. You're just lucky enough to have a secret you can keep."
Sirius reaches out and squeezes Remus' shoulder. "Doesn't make it right. Doesn't mean I can't sympathize."
Remus nods once, eyes flicking from the road to one mirror to the next. A spot of white emerges in the distance, gradually separating into headlights. Behind it, brighter headlights, and the high-up orange warning lights that mean hey I'm a big car big car big car.
Without warning the large vehicle-a double-decker bus-swerves into their lane and speeds up. "Fuck," Remus hisses, slamming on the brakes and pounding the steering wheel once. Sirius wonders why until Remus' hand actually connects and the car starts shrieking, like its life depended on it, which Sirius supposes (in the tiny part of his brain that isn't also screaming in terror) it might.
The bus comes closer, not slowing, in fact moving faster, and Sirius is terrified. "Remus," he chokes, grabbing for Moony's arm-but Remus shakes him off and steers towards the side of the road, hand still pressed to the center of the wheel, car still screaming. The bus is about to hit them; Sirius' heart is pounding in his ears; they're not close enough to the side; that's odd because his heart is in his stomach; all he can see are the headlights; his body is filled with adrenaline-and the bus turns back into its own lane, just barely missing them and somehow ahead of the car it had been passing.
Sirius becomes aware of several things all at once: he is clutching Remus' shirt at the shoulder; he is half-hard from fear; he is no longer drunk; the car has stopped; Remus is breathing heavily. Slowly he relaxes, his hand dropping from Remus' shoulder to his own lap, his breath hissing from him slowly. Remus' nostrils flare slightly, but other than a frightening glint in his eye, he seems almost normal.
He flicks his eyes toward Sirius. "Are you all right?"
"Just terrified," Sirius answers.
"I can smell." Remus smiles, and the glint in his eye fades. He reaches to the side, his hand hovering strangely over the gearshift (maybe a little to the left of it?) before dropping heavily on the black ball. "Dying with you, though," he says distantly, " wouldn't be so bad."
Sirius smiles. "You must be drunk. Get out and let me drive."
***
Sirius cut the meat into thin sheets before baking, then piled the hot beef onto thick bread (which Remus didn't actually have, so Sirius substituted white bread instead) with cheese and mustard and lettuce. Now the paper plates are empty, the leftovers are put away, and since Sirius' adrenaline is gone he can tell he's drunk again.
Now that Remus isn't concentrating on the road, he's much more expressive, and Sirius is focused rather fuzzily on those expressions. He hid the Merlot and the chocolate before dinner, and Remus produced a rather uncharacteristic bottle of Firewhiskey soon after, so Sirius feels it rude to offer the wine. Remus will find it soon enough anyway.
"Remus," Sirius says, "your carpet is evil."
Remus raises an eyebrow. This eyebrow says "Sirius, you have been smoking far too much Gillyweed."
"Look at it!" Sirius insists, gesturing. "The pattern. It looks like the devil's face, over and over and over and over and over…" He tilts his head to the left to align his face with the 'devil's', and would have continued saying 'over and over and over and…' forever had Remus' paper plate not hit him in the head with frightening accuracy. "Helloooo, Mr. Devil Man," he says instead. "You gonna kill me tonight?"
Remus, surprisingly, laughs at this, and Sirius' insides share in his head's fuzzy feeling for a moment. "That's the reaper, Sirius, not the devil."
"You mean the grim one?" Sirius giggles too, swinging his legs up over the arm of the chair he's sitting in, taking a swig of Firewhiskey, and thinking it odd that he just used the word 'giggle' to describe his own actions. "What time's it?"
"There's a clock right there." Remus points. Unfortunately, he appears to be pointing at Sirius' head.
"Thass too far 'way." Sirius pouts. "And behind me, and you still don' sound very drunk. Why can't you read it?"
"It's three-thirty."
Sirius looks, puzzled, at the window. "Then why's it so dark?"
"It's three thirty in the morning, you git. If you don't even remember that, I'd think it's time for you to stop drinking." Remus stands, too gracefully for someone who's had as much as he has, and takes Sirius' drink. "Go piss, and I'll get you some blankets."
Sirius pouts but goes. By the time he gets back there is bedding aplenty (did my mind really just say that? he asks himself, I really am drunk) and Remus has gone, so Sirius shakes the more threadbare of the two blankets over the couch and covers himself with the other. He barely has time to pull the pillow under his head before he falls asleep.
***
There is hangover potion on the side table when Sirius wakes up, and a plate of Muggle toaster waffles (with margarine, Sirius notes as he bites into the first one, not butter) on the coffee table, covered by a warming charm. They're food, even if they're not the gourmet sort Kreacher used to make, and he washes down each bite with potion.
When he's done he takes his plate into the kitchen to throw it away, and finds a note stuck to the bottom of it: "You'll have to take a cab home; you're sleeping like a rock and I have to go to work. -Moony".
Sirius smiles, tucks the note in his pocket, and takes a cab home.
***
Later that night Sirius is sitting by his fire and dreading the end of his weekend when someone knocks on his flat door. Of course they're not just someone, but Remus, because most people knock five times by default and Remus knocks four.
Not that anyone ever knocks on Sirius' door anymore.
Sirius gets up and answers and Remus is holding the chocolate and the Merlot, and he's dressed in his least threadbare robes (the ones with just one patch, on the hem), and he's… he looks different.
Awkward.
"What are you doing here?" Sirius asks, stepping aside so Remus can enter.
"I just thought I'd pop in and share the wine you bought. I'm guessing you did buy it to share, and it's never any good to drink alone." Remus smiles. "And of course you chose the wine that goes well with chocolate."
Sirius grins lopsidedly. "In summation, I rock, right?"
Remus smiles back. "In summation, you rock." He still seems a bit awkward, just standing there holding the wine and chocolate even though he knows full well where the glasses are. Sirius takes the wine from Remus and indicates Remus' favorite chair with a tip of his head, saying "You could sit down," then goes into the kitchen to fetch glasses.
When he comes back he pauses in the doorway; Remus is sitting, but his eyes are closed and he is breathing very deliberately, as if trying to relax. He is holding a piece of chocolate to his mouth and nibbling the edges slowly; after a moment he sucks the whole piece into his mouth, his nostrils flare, and he looks up.
Sirius grins. "You enjoy that stuff far too much."
Remus smiles. "It's calming," he says, and breaks off another piece of chocolate. Sirius sits on the couch on the end closer to Remus' chair and pours the wine into two actual wineglasses. Remus takes his and swirls it under his nose.
To anyone but Sirius and possibly James, Remus is simply enjoying the wine's bouquet. Sirius, however, can tell that Remus is distracted. He reaches over and taps Remus' arm. "You okay, mate?"
Remus blinks at him. "Yes," he answers.
Sirius is sure that it is true. He is also sure there is more to it. "Talk to me," he says. "What's wrong?"
Remus smiles lopsidedly. When Sirius smiles that way, it means he's being fun. When Remus smiles that way, it is wry; he's not really happy. "I smelled something on you last night," he begins.
Sirius laughs. "What, alcohol?"
Remus shakes his head. "That, too, but… something else. I mean… you always smell affectionate, which is natural because we're friends, but…" He breaks eye contact and looks at the floor, his cheeks flushing red. "You were giving off more testosterone than usual."
Sirius sits back, confused. "What do you mean?"
Remus' red turns crimson. He works his mouth for a moment, as if trying to say something, and finally he forces it out: "You were horny. You wanted me."
Sirius exhales all at once. Remus knows, now. What James was so afraid of has come to pass with Remus, and now Remus has found out, and Remus will leave, and Sirius won't have anyone left. For several seconds he just stares. "You…" he whispers, and then, "I can't deny what you already know. I'll miss you, Moony."
He stands to go into his bedroom, but as he closes the door he finds it obstructed. Remus is holding it open effortlessly, laughter in his eyes. Sirius glares, which only makes Remus laugh harder. "You don't understand," Remus says, and kisses him.
It's a good, proper kiss: all soft moving lips and hard warm body, but Sirius can't move, can't breathe, can't even close his eyes. He is left staring at Remus' eyelids and growing steadily harder but no less stunned. Remus finally breaks away and is blushing again, and it is the most adorable thing Sirius has ever seen. He reaches out and folds Remus against his chest and squeezes as hard as he can because he knows it's okay, Remus isn't fragile, and sobs once. "God,," he breathes, "Merlin, Remus, Moony-god!"
He's no longer really able to stand, so he turns and leans against Moony against the nearest wall; he's not really capable of speech, so he just kisses Moony again-and again and again. He has wanted and wanted and wanted and now he has, and Remus' lips feel smooth even thought they look chapped, and contrary to all of Sirius' fantasies he can hardly even think about sex despite his aching erection, just kissing, just holding and kissing.
Remus shoves him away, hard, and for a second Sirius is terrified that somehow that first kiss meant something other than what he thought it meant, but what else could it be?, and then he has fallen on the bed and Remus has climbed on top of him and is undoing his robes and Sirius stops thinking anything, just reaches up and pushes ineffectively at Remus' clothing.
Despite Sirius' complete lack of motor skills, Remus manages to get them both undressed. Sirius presses himself flush against Remus, arching his back against the bed to do so. "Wanted you so long, Remus," he murmurs, more unself-conscious than he has ever been, and Remus pushes him back down into the bed and murmurs back, "Wanted you too-want you," and then grabs him by the hips and turns him over and Sirius gasps, more aroused by this simple act of dominance than he thought he could ever be by anything.
Remus starts at the shoulders, biting fiercely and then licking and kissing to soothe the skin. He scrapes his upper teeth over Sirius' shoulder blade, and Sirius shudders. "Moony," he moans, wanting more, humping the sheets for the friction, but Remus pins him down and continues his oral exploration of Sirius' back in the same pattern: bite, lick, kiss, scrape. Sirius is writhing by the time Remus' hands cup each side of his arse, squeezing and kneading as if it were breasts, then pulling them apart and licking. Sirius keens loudly, pressing his face into the pillow to muffle himself, and ohgod Remus was pushing now, pressing with his tongue at Sirius' hole, and Sirius feels his limbs turn to jelly; he can't move, can't even writhe, can only moan and whimper as Remus tonguefucks him.
After an eternity Remus licks his way up Sirius' spine again and presses himself against Sirius' back, his erection nudging the spot he was just kissing. "Do you have any lube?" he asks breathlessly, and Sirius can only flop one hand in the direction of his bedside table.
It's enough, though. Remus gets the lube out while simultaneously nudging Sirius' legs apart with his knees; a moment later there is a cold slick finger at Sirius' entrance, barely penetrating. Sirius moans and Remus freezes, asking "Did I hurt you?"
"No, just get on with it," Sirius hisses, and pushes himself backwards, forcing Remus' finger in to the knuckle. Slowly, Remus begins to slide his finger in and out, carefully. "More," Sirius begs, lifting his hips off the bed; he feels wanton and submissive, but Remus rewards him with another finger and he decides he doesn't care so long as those fingers keep doing that.
Without warning Remus completely removes both fingers, and Sirius collapses flat on the bed, whimpering. The lid to the lube bottle clicks open, clicks shut again a moment later, and the next moment Remus is pressing slowly, gently into him. Sirius grunts; it hurts, but not enough to ask him to stop. Remus snakes one arm around Sirius' waist and draws him up to his hands and knees, one still lube-slicked hand stroking his cock.
Once Remus is fully sheathed he stops moving. Sirius is grateful; it gives him a chance to adjust to this larger than ever before intrusion. Slowly Remus begins rocking back and forth, enough so that Sirius feels it inside him but not so much it hurts. He gradually lengthens each stroke until he is actually fucking Sirius, and Sirius throws his head back and moans and thinks is his hair tossed over his back like that sexy?
Then Remus starts fucking faster and Sirius doesn't think at all, just moans and writhes and God, who knew anything could feel so good? Remus too is breathing heavily, and then he leans back a bit, or something, and Sirius screams: "Ahh!" and comes ten strokes later.
It's the best orgasm he's ever had, the only one he's achieved with another person, and he collapses heavily into his own spunk, unable to hold himself up any longer. A few more seconds pass and then Remus jerks once, moans, and God, Sirius can feel him coming inside him.
Remus recovers first, pushing himself up off of Sirius and reaching for his wand. Sirius whimpers at the disconnect, but lets Remus cast cleaning charms and the charm that lays the blankets over you without you having to move. As soon as Remus sets down his wand, Sirius pulls him against his chest, feeling needy and affectionate. Remus pushes one deceptively thin leg under Sirius' and the other between his thighs and nuzzles Sirius' stubble. "Does that light," he asks, tilting his head towards the Muggle night-light Sirius has yet to be able to remove from its socket, "never go out?"
"It doesn't," Sirius says. "Go to sleep, Moony."
***
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[floo id="Peter Pettigrew"]
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[caller id="Remus Lupin" id2="Sirius Black"]
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in-finite