Title: Doing Lunch (it's a euphemism) [1 of ?]
Word Count: ~400
Author:
whitmans_kissRating: PG
Warnings: AU, angst, sexual themes
Characters; Pairings: Remus Lupin/Tobias (OMC)
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this piece of fiction. All characters depicted are of legal age. The character "Tobias" is my own intellectual property.
Summary: Lunch with Tobias, who means well.
“You should get out more,” Tobias says to him one afternoon over lunch. He holds a wilting chip like a cigarette, pretending to take a drag before popping it into his mouth, the grease leaving a shiny streak on his lips.
Remus reaches over and tears off a hunk of the fish from inside the paper Tobias has cradled in his other hand. The batter is the colour of spoilt beer, the soggy fish flesh on the interior a creamy, greying colour. “I get out,” Remus replies. The fish tastes like it looks. He swallows.
“You get high,” Tobias counters, as though he thinks he has a point.
“I’m out right now, aren’t I? With you.” Another chip, another bite of fish. Remus is not looking at the expression on Tobias’ face. It’s likely disapproving.
“I hear nothing from you for days, and then suddenly it’s, oh, Toby, let’s do lunch, every week, like clockwork. And I still can’t say no to that mouth.” Smirking, Tobias leans towards Remus, presumably for a kiss, but Remus frowns and ducks his head, snatching another bite and pushing it onto his tongue for an excuse.
“You don’t understand,” Remus says, passing his fingers underneath his nose and inhaling the smell of vinegar clinging to his fingertips, sharp. It clears his head a little bit.
“I understand fine.” Tobias moves the newspaper away from him, and Remus waggles his fingers discreetly at the fish in a private farewell to the only decent meal he’s had in the past two days. “Sebastian has you wrapped around his prick like you keep rubber wrapped around your arm.” Squaring himself up to Remus, Tobias actually looks a little serious about all this. “I don’t like it.”
Remus would sneer if he had the energy, but as it is, the most he can manage is mildly annoyed. “I thought you liked my mouth well enough.”
“Well, then I think you should remind me why I like it so much.”
Remus doesn’t like the way Tobias’ hands touch his hair without pulling sharply at it, or the way he kisses like kissing is an end itself, not merely the means to one. It feels too much like affection, and he doesn't want to find it here.