FIC(let): Rules
Title: Rules
Author: risa
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A conversation between lovers during the war.
“Moony,” he whispers, voice rough against the drowsing werewolf’s ear, “Moony, I’ve been thinking…”
“-that’s a surprise,” Remus mutters, opening one eye and then the other, warily, “and?”
“I think-” Sirius continues, “I think we should have a protocol. Rules.” He’s sitting upright, shirtless, a hopelessly wrinkled sheet draped loosely across his hips. Their nights together leave Remus boneless and exhausted… it figures that they give Sirius creative outbursts.
“This can’t wait until morning?” he wonders aloud, hopefully, but knowing from Sirius’s look that the answer is most certainly-
“No!” Sirius yelps, unnaturally quickly, “It’s important!”
Remus sighs loudly - a long, drawn-out acquiescence - but sits up, leaning heavily against the uncomfortable wooden headboard Sirius loves. The engraved elephants push their tusks against his bare skin, but the boyish grin on Sirius’s face as he succumbs is worth it, always worth it.
“I love you,” Sirius half-whispers, kissing Remus’s fingertips, wrists, wherever he can reach. He positions himself, deftly, at Remus’s knees-close enough to touch and hold, far enough to talk seriously, face-to-face.
“I think we should have rules,” he blurts out, again, his words uneven and rushed and urgent - a far cry from the smooth, cajoling tones he reserves for everyone else.
Remus parts his lips to speak, give voice to the question marks no doubt orbiting his head. Sirius silences him with a look - urgency, again - and continues, less hesitant, “When… if something happens. To me, to you. It will. It might. Please listen, I’ve really been thinking…”
Sirius’s voice remains deceptively light as he continues, the sure sign that he’s been practicing these words, and Remus finds himself frozen, still, by the nakedness in those eyes. The words-so many terrible words-slip in and out of his mind automatically; the multiplicity: fear and love, duty and grim determination both calms and jars him. The numbness goes away only later, as warm palms slowly rub the feeling back into his body.
But Sirius is still talking, voice gentle-the tone of a soothing mother, not a brash young troublemaker-and his list is filled with cruel words, the cruelest: “…no mourning, I don’t want you to… please don’t let the wolf… no drinking, no Muggle drugs, no dating handsomer blokes, that’s important!… I want you to live no matter what.”
“Remember.” Sirius whispers, simply, urgently, as he leans over Remus’s sweat-slicked body to blow out the frantically wavering candlelight. That night, Remus doesn’t dream.
It’s not until later, when the wave of profound sadness has at last found his door that he remembers this conversation and the loving look in the twenty-something’s sad gray eyes as he talked about death.
Comments/feedback of any kind is cherished ♥
Crossposted to my writing journal risa_pink and starcrossedmoon.
Author: risa
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A conversation between lovers during the war.
“Moony,” he whispers, voice rough against the drowsing werewolf’s ear, “Moony, I’ve been thinking…”
“-that’s a surprise,” Remus mutters, opening one eye and then the other, warily, “and?”
“I think-” Sirius continues, “I think we should have a protocol. Rules.” He’s sitting upright, shirtless, a hopelessly wrinkled sheet draped loosely across his hips. Their nights together leave Remus boneless and exhausted… it figures that they give Sirius creative outbursts.
“This can’t wait until morning?” he wonders aloud, hopefully, but knowing from Sirius’s look that the answer is most certainly-
“No!” Sirius yelps, unnaturally quickly, “It’s important!”
Remus sighs loudly - a long, drawn-out acquiescence - but sits up, leaning heavily against the uncomfortable wooden headboard Sirius loves. The engraved elephants push their tusks against his bare skin, but the boyish grin on Sirius’s face as he succumbs is worth it, always worth it.
“I love you,” Sirius half-whispers, kissing Remus’s fingertips, wrists, wherever he can reach. He positions himself, deftly, at Remus’s knees-close enough to touch and hold, far enough to talk seriously, face-to-face.
“I think we should have rules,” he blurts out, again, his words uneven and rushed and urgent - a far cry from the smooth, cajoling tones he reserves for everyone else.
Remus parts his lips to speak, give voice to the question marks no doubt orbiting his head. Sirius silences him with a look - urgency, again - and continues, less hesitant, “When… if something happens. To me, to you. It will. It might. Please listen, I’ve really been thinking…”
Sirius’s voice remains deceptively light as he continues, the sure sign that he’s been practicing these words, and Remus finds himself frozen, still, by the nakedness in those eyes. The words-so many terrible words-slip in and out of his mind automatically; the multiplicity: fear and love, duty and grim determination both calms and jars him. The numbness goes away only later, as warm palms slowly rub the feeling back into his body.
But Sirius is still talking, voice gentle-the tone of a soothing mother, not a brash young troublemaker-and his list is filled with cruel words, the cruelest: “…no mourning, I don’t want you to… please don’t let the wolf… no drinking, no Muggle drugs, no dating handsomer blokes, that’s important!… I want you to live no matter what.”
“Remember.” Sirius whispers, simply, urgently, as he leans over Remus’s sweat-slicked body to blow out the frantically wavering candlelight. That night, Remus doesn’t dream.
It’s not until later, when the wave of profound sadness has at last found his door that he remembers this conversation and the loving look in the twenty-something’s sad gray eyes as he talked about death.
Comments/feedback of any kind is cherished ♥
Crossposted to my writing journal risa_pink and starcrossedmoon.