Ficlet: The Fallacy of Loneliness
Title: The Fallacy of Loneliness
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Standard
Notes: None, really. Except that you can thank the nice neighbor who brought me homegrown tomatoes for the happy ending.
Sirius stood at the window, looking down into the street. A watery sunshine fell over the pavement, glinting off a bottlecap and refracting to scraps of paper and a discarded fish sandwich wrapper. Every now and then a car would drive by, or a pedestrian would walk, huddled into their coat with their hands stuffed in their pockets as they bent again the wind.
The sound of the ticking clock was loud against his ears, but he ignored it, leaning his head against the cold glass windowpane and closing his eyes.
He'd just about made it through his three day vow of silence. Not that there was any reason for such a vow; it was just a challenge to see if he could. Of course, when there was no one to speak to, it was infinitely easier….
Oh, Order members had stopped by. But speech had not been required of him. McGonagall and Moody had had a quick conversation that didn't require his input. Arthur and Bill had had a long conference in the kitchen without even bothering to seek him out. And while Molly definitely noticed his silence (in fact, she was the only one that did, in those infrequent visitors), she was probably too relieved and too worried about other things to press the subject.
Now, Sirius didn't think he'd speak even if someone spoke to him, just out of spite.
He moved away from the window and settled across the bed, curling up on himself and closing his eyes. It was five o'clock in the evening, but there was nothing else to do and sleep crept over him, more out of sheer boredom. It wasn't blessing or curse- just a little piece of oblivion, broken and restless, but oblivion just the same.
He opened his eyes to see a dark sky and someone moving in the room. Remus. Sirius hadn't realized that Remus would be back today. Wearily, he closed his eyes again except for a crack, watching through the haze of his lashes.
Remus was moving slowly, shifting through papers and muttering to himself. Sirius willed for him to turn around, to sit on the bed, to notice him, but Remus put the papers down and moved to the bathroom instead. And although the rational part of Sirius's brain told him there was hardly any reason to be upset about that, it still hurt with a dull, lonely ache. He closed his eyes fully, waiting.
Nothing.
He heard the toilet flush and the water running, and then Remus's footsteps again. They paused, just briefly, and then continued and the door shut softly. Outside, he heard the muted mumblings of Remus's voice, and the shrill answering tone of Molly.
He curled up tighter on himself and willed sleep to return. After a while, it did.
***
"Sirius. Sirius."
Remus's hand was on his shoulder, gently shaking him. Sirius pulled himself out of the darkness and forced his eyes open to see Remus, staring down at him with a small smile.
"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Nearly ten."
"Why didn't you wake me?" Sirius asked, still rubbing at an eye with his fist.
"I thought you might need your sleep," Remus answered, that damned patronizing smile still playing at the corner of his lips.
"Why would I need sleep? It's not like I do anything all day," Sirius growled.
Remus's hand glided over his shoulder, rubbing gently. "I was worried you were sick." His own voice sounded funny; stuffy, Sirius realized. There were dark shadows beneath Remus's eyes, and he looked tired. But the hand on Sirius's shoulder was firm and tender, and there was a tray resting on the nightstand. "I brought dinner up," Remus explained as Sirius's eyes landed on it.
"Did you eat?"
"A little, but not yet. I wanted to eat with you." Remus pulled away and got the tray, handing Sirius a mug of soup. It was hot and fragrant, rich with chicken and small, plump dumplings. Sirius took a sip and warmth began to creep back into his body. Remus picked up his own mug and sipped as well, smiling at Sirius with his eyes over the rim.
There were grilled sandwiches, oozing with cheese and acidic with tomato, and two choice pieces of pie that Remus had filched from behind Molly's back. They ate in silence, but the silence was not resentful.
When he had finished, Remus took the dishes from him and set them aside, then slid closer on the mattress, running gentle fingers through the tangles of Sirius's hair and leaning in to brush his lips in a kiss. Sirius closed his eyes, his own fingers fumbling for Remus's free hand as the kiss deepened and lingered. Remus broke the kiss, but stayed close, his forehead resting against Sirius's.
"Do you realize," Sirius whispered into the air between them, "that I haven't spoken in three days?"
"I believe you," Remus whispered back, with no pity and no promises.
"The first thing I said was 'what time is it?' How stupid is that?"
"It's not stupid at all." Remus stood up, tugging Sirius's hand gently. "Come with me."
They ended up in the shower, warm water streaming over them both. The water washed away the exhaustion and the loneliness and the pain along with the sweat and dirt and dust. Sirius tipped his head back, letting the water soak his hair. When he opened his eyes again, Remus was watching him, a smile betrayed by the way the lines around his eyes crinkled more than any motion of his mouth. "What?" Sirius asked.
"Nothing," Remus said, running his hand down Sirius's side.
They shut the water off and dried each other, and as he toweled Remus's hair dry Sirius felt like something had been restored to him, something warm and vital and alive. Funny how Remus could do that with nothing more than a few words and touches, and one kind gesture. He pushed the towel away and kissed Remus on the nose. Remus smiled.
"Feeling better?"
"Much," Sirius confessed. "You?"
"Definitely. Come on." Remus led him back into the bedroom.
As they snuggled down together under the comforter, Sirius pulled Remus against him so his back was flush against Sirius's front. "I'm glad you're home," he said as Remus nestled against him. "I missed you."
"Me too," Remus said, and Sirius could hear all the loneliness of the past three days echoed by the man in his arms. "Me too."
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Standard
Notes: None, really. Except that you can thank the nice neighbor who brought me homegrown tomatoes for the happy ending.
Sirius stood at the window, looking down into the street. A watery sunshine fell over the pavement, glinting off a bottlecap and refracting to scraps of paper and a discarded fish sandwich wrapper. Every now and then a car would drive by, or a pedestrian would walk, huddled into their coat with their hands stuffed in their pockets as they bent again the wind.
The sound of the ticking clock was loud against his ears, but he ignored it, leaning his head against the cold glass windowpane and closing his eyes.
He'd just about made it through his three day vow of silence. Not that there was any reason for such a vow; it was just a challenge to see if he could. Of course, when there was no one to speak to, it was infinitely easier….
Oh, Order members had stopped by. But speech had not been required of him. McGonagall and Moody had had a quick conversation that didn't require his input. Arthur and Bill had had a long conference in the kitchen without even bothering to seek him out. And while Molly definitely noticed his silence (in fact, she was the only one that did, in those infrequent visitors), she was probably too relieved and too worried about other things to press the subject.
Now, Sirius didn't think he'd speak even if someone spoke to him, just out of spite.
He moved away from the window and settled across the bed, curling up on himself and closing his eyes. It was five o'clock in the evening, but there was nothing else to do and sleep crept over him, more out of sheer boredom. It wasn't blessing or curse- just a little piece of oblivion, broken and restless, but oblivion just the same.
He opened his eyes to see a dark sky and someone moving in the room. Remus. Sirius hadn't realized that Remus would be back today. Wearily, he closed his eyes again except for a crack, watching through the haze of his lashes.
Remus was moving slowly, shifting through papers and muttering to himself. Sirius willed for him to turn around, to sit on the bed, to notice him, but Remus put the papers down and moved to the bathroom instead. And although the rational part of Sirius's brain told him there was hardly any reason to be upset about that, it still hurt with a dull, lonely ache. He closed his eyes fully, waiting.
Nothing.
He heard the toilet flush and the water running, and then Remus's footsteps again. They paused, just briefly, and then continued and the door shut softly. Outside, he heard the muted mumblings of Remus's voice, and the shrill answering tone of Molly.
He curled up tighter on himself and willed sleep to return. After a while, it did.
***
"Sirius. Sirius."
Remus's hand was on his shoulder, gently shaking him. Sirius pulled himself out of the darkness and forced his eyes open to see Remus, staring down at him with a small smile.
"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Nearly ten."
"Why didn't you wake me?" Sirius asked, still rubbing at an eye with his fist.
"I thought you might need your sleep," Remus answered, that damned patronizing smile still playing at the corner of his lips.
"Why would I need sleep? It's not like I do anything all day," Sirius growled.
Remus's hand glided over his shoulder, rubbing gently. "I was worried you were sick." His own voice sounded funny; stuffy, Sirius realized. There were dark shadows beneath Remus's eyes, and he looked tired. But the hand on Sirius's shoulder was firm and tender, and there was a tray resting on the nightstand. "I brought dinner up," Remus explained as Sirius's eyes landed on it.
"Did you eat?"
"A little, but not yet. I wanted to eat with you." Remus pulled away and got the tray, handing Sirius a mug of soup. It was hot and fragrant, rich with chicken and small, plump dumplings. Sirius took a sip and warmth began to creep back into his body. Remus picked up his own mug and sipped as well, smiling at Sirius with his eyes over the rim.
There were grilled sandwiches, oozing with cheese and acidic with tomato, and two choice pieces of pie that Remus had filched from behind Molly's back. They ate in silence, but the silence was not resentful.
When he had finished, Remus took the dishes from him and set them aside, then slid closer on the mattress, running gentle fingers through the tangles of Sirius's hair and leaning in to brush his lips in a kiss. Sirius closed his eyes, his own fingers fumbling for Remus's free hand as the kiss deepened and lingered. Remus broke the kiss, but stayed close, his forehead resting against Sirius's.
"Do you realize," Sirius whispered into the air between them, "that I haven't spoken in three days?"
"I believe you," Remus whispered back, with no pity and no promises.
"The first thing I said was 'what time is it?' How stupid is that?"
"It's not stupid at all." Remus stood up, tugging Sirius's hand gently. "Come with me."
They ended up in the shower, warm water streaming over them both. The water washed away the exhaustion and the loneliness and the pain along with the sweat and dirt and dust. Sirius tipped his head back, letting the water soak his hair. When he opened his eyes again, Remus was watching him, a smile betrayed by the way the lines around his eyes crinkled more than any motion of his mouth. "What?" Sirius asked.
"Nothing," Remus said, running his hand down Sirius's side.
They shut the water off and dried each other, and as he toweled Remus's hair dry Sirius felt like something had been restored to him, something warm and vital and alive. Funny how Remus could do that with nothing more than a few words and touches, and one kind gesture. He pushed the towel away and kissed Remus on the nose. Remus smiled.
"Feeling better?"
"Much," Sirius confessed. "You?"
"Definitely. Come on." Remus led him back into the bedroom.
As they snuggled down together under the comforter, Sirius pulled Remus against him so his back was flush against Sirius's front. "I'm glad you're home," he said as Remus nestled against him. "I missed you."
"Me too," Remus said, and Sirius could hear all the loneliness of the past three days echoed by the man in his arms. "Me too."