More Than Orange Squash
Title: More Than Orange Squash
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius.
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 728 (so like, longer than a drabble, but not short fic long.)
Warnings: Language. Lots of it. In English.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is owned by J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic. Not me.
Dedication: You.
Note: I was blocked. I hated it. I'm still blocked. I came out of the sad, sad world of blocked-ness to bring you this fic. Love me? Also, this m'dears, is the product of watching too much Queer As Folk and feeling sad that the whole Brian/Mikey thing never works out. I just wanted them to do it! Not get together!
Feedback is like a lewd act. It should happen as much as possible, as long as possible, as wonderful as possible, and in public places. Or private. Or everywhere. In the end, though, it doesn't matter as long as it happens and it's with someone who will not throw you out the next morning without even offering you a cup of coffee. This simile is getting weird so I will cease and desist now.
"Fuck you," Remus called out weakly from his bed. A few minutes ago, Sirius had carried him in, looking awkward with long limbs flailing over Sirius’s wide shoulders. He had tossed him onto the bed with careless anger, and Remus dropped wordlessly, like an old rag doll. Sirius placed himself onto a chair in the corner, huffing and biting his knuckle and surveying the drunken man through a fierce glare.
"Fuck... you," Remus repeated, this time with a harsh laugh. His head lolled from side to side.
"No," Sirius spat. "Fuck you! What the hell were you doing back there?"
"Nothing," Remus replied dumbly.
Sirius chuckled bitterly and stood up, walking closer to the man on the bed with every quiver in his voice. "Nothing? That didn’t seem like nothing, Remus. It looked like you had a bit more than Orange Squash to drink. It looked like you were about to jump off the side of a building. It looked," he paused, trying to keep his false calm. "It looked like I had to pull you off it. It looked like I had to talk you down. It looked like I had to bring you home!"
"You don’t get it," Remus said, without any emotion. "So... fuck you..."
"NO, DAMMIT, FUCK YOU!" Sirius’s hands started shaking. "You think... you can just run away from your problems? You think you can just leave me here to clean up your mess while you go and kill yourself? This will always happen, Remus. This will always happen. And you know that better than anyone! Once people find out what you are..."
Remus laughed again. "I really wanted to be a healer when I grew up... and then an Auror... and a cursebreaker... and I can’t be anything. I’m poor. Poor poor poor poor poor poor poor poor poor poor poor poor..." He said the word over and over until it refused to escape his lips anymore.
Sirius relaxed his fists. "That doesn’t give you the right to do this to me," he whispered. "You can’t be the one to fuck up. That’s my job. I’m the one with the horrible family and the issues and you just can’t... you can’t..."
"I should have jumped." Remus fixed Sirius with a dull, angry stare. "You shouldn’t have stopped me."
"I shouldn’t have what?" Sirius balled up his hands again. "You know what would have happened? You would have jumped, and then halfway down thought, ‘Huh. I really don’t want to die.’ and then been too fucking drunk to apparate yourself somewhere else! So I’m sorry if I won’t permit you to go and kill yourself! I love you, God fucking damn it! You can’t do this to me! Since when are you supposed to be the one who fucks up everything?" Sirius tried to step closer, but found his shin bang up against the bed’s wooden frame.
Remus snorted into the pillows. "Lay down," he commanded languidly.
Sirius laid down, almost mechanically, and fit himself around Remus’s sprawled body. He worked himself flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving up and down. He felt utterly powerless, with pent up rage and laying in an uncomfortable position and Remus’s elbow hitting him at an awkward angle. They both laid there in silence, until Sirius’s breathing slowed to a gentle rise and fall.
"I’m sorry," Remus said, a bit too loudly. "You can be the one to fuck up from now on."
Sirius fought a smile. "No... you’re sort of funny when you’re suicidal and drunk."
"YOU’RE SORT OF FUNNY."
The smile broke free and Sirius grinned stupidly for a few moments before he could wrestle it back in. "I was really scared, you know."
"I really wanted that job, you know. It was... perfect. Like you."
"You’re drunk."
"No, no. I mean it. The job was just... perfect."
Remus flopped himself sleepily over Sirius and nuzzled his face into Sirius’s neck. "I promise not to mess up anymore," he whispered into the flushed skin. "I promise to clean you up when you fuck up because that is my job." He giggled.
"No," Sirius whispered back. "You can fuck up as many times as you want because I will always be there to clean you up."
Remus didn’t hear him. "My job." he murmured happily, half-asleep.
FIN.