Fic: Snowball, for littlewolfstar
Title:Snowball
Author: mayberry_rose
Recipient: littlewolfstar
Rating: PG-13
Highlight for Warnings: *Boys kissing, fluff, Christmas-y sweetness :D*
Word Count:1900
Summary:Remus is cold, and Sirius is concerned, and all kinds of things snowball a little out of control :)
Author's notes:Littlewolfstar, thank you for the wonderful prompt - I hope you like it. Merry Christmas, everyone!
It’s all Sirius’s fault.
It’s Sirius who throws the first snowball - James turns around, an arm proudly slung around Lily’s shoulders, and he only has a split second before his eyes widen comically and the snowball, freshly packed, impacts with his face.
Sirius grins at Remus and then runs away, cackling manically. James glares after him, his lips quirking into a half-grin, and Remus rolls his eyes when he gives chase.
Inevitably, the second or third snowball hits Peter, who manages to retaliate by smacking Remus in the side of the head with a handful of powdered snow. Sirius springs to his defence, still grinning, chapped lips parted in an impromptu war-cry.
Remus stands back for a moment, watching his whooping, laughing friends race around the castle grounds. The soft blanket of snow covers everything, pure and almost untouched; it’s Christmas Eve, and there are few students left to disturb it. He smiles, arms folded. His hands are cold inside his gloves, his cheeks scoured red by the bitter wind; his body feels heavy and clumsy, still, two days after the Moon. He’s wearing two jumpers, his own and the one Sirius forced on him before agreeing to let him out of the dorm.
“Moony!” Sirius yells, and Remus turns too late to avoid the snowball James throws at him. He scoops the snow out of his eyes, catches James sniggering helplessly - and growls, scooping up a handful of snow and racing after him.
...
It’s Peter who spots Snape standing beside the lake, but James who convinces them all to creep up behind him. Lily rolls her eyes, but laughs when James’s snowball smashes into the back of Snape’s head, white against the dark hair. Remus has to bite his lip to keep from laughing himself. Sirius and James and Peter crack up at once, and as they’re running away Sirius slips an arm around Remus’ waist, half tickling him until Remus slaps his hands away, starting to laugh as well.
Lily looks a little disapproving, but James starts building a snowman for her, transforming it into a snowwoman half-way through in the interests of women’s lib. Peter helps, and Sirius chips in until he sees Remus standing back a bit, rubbing his hands together for warmth.
“Moony?” Sirius asks, breaking away from fashioning the snowwoman’s bikini, “Alright?”
“Yeah,” Remus says vaguely, but Sirius bounds over, skidding to a stop beside him to put a hand on Remus’ arm. He peers at him for a moment, frowning, and turns around to James and the others. “I think we’re going to head inside now,” he says, an echo of concern in his tone.
James and Peter shrug, and Lily looks at them piercingly. Then James tips a handful of slush down her neck, and they escape under cover of the shrieks.
...
As they’re trekking back up the stairs, dripping all over the clean floors, the castle is near-deserted. Almost all of the younger students have headed home for Christmas, but Sirius stayed for lack of anywhere else to go, and Lily stayed for access to the library, and James stayed for Lily and Remus, secretly, stayed for Sirius.
Remus shivers, rolling his shoulders back. He feels stiff, his head aching, just like it has been for the last few weeks of exams being stressful and weather being cold and the Moon being somehow worse than usual. His hands are still numb, but his face is burning. All his skin feels hot and prickly and tight, and when Sirius turns around to say something to him Remus finds that he can hardly focus on the words.
“Moony?” Sirius says, loudly, sharp-edged, and when Remus says “I’m fine,” Sirius doesn’t look like he believes him at all. Sirius frowns, and when Remus shivers again he finds himself being manhandled up the stairs, through the empty common room, back to their dorm.
...
It’s a mess. Sirius has left his duvet on the floor, and James has two pairs of jeans and a T-shirt of Lily’s draped over the edge of his bed, and when Sirius steps away Remus finds himself staring at that duvet, shivering so fiercely that it looks to him like it’s bouncing around by itself.
“Merlin, Remus,” Sirius says, pressing the palm of his hand to Remus’ forehead, biting hard at his lip. He drags Remus towards the shower rooms, turning the taps on the old, white bath tub, and - confused but unquestioning - Remus follows.
When Sirius turns to look at him, his eyes are bright and wide. He steps forward to tug Remus’ gloves off, droplets of water caught rounded in the wool, and holds Remus’ hands between his own while the bath fills up. Sirius’ skin feels scalding hot, almost sore where it touches him, but when Sirius moves his hands away to shrug off his own cloak Remus clings, wanting them back.
Remus is trembling violently, beginning to warm up enough to recognise that he’s unbearably cold, sore and almost dazed with it. When Sirius steps back, muttering to him about needing to get him warm quickly, Remus has to clench his jaw to keep from gasping. The cold air of the bathroom breaks in waves against his skin as Sirius deftly unbuttons his cloak, helping him out of both of his jumpers and his old, faded T-shirt, and then - after Remus’ nod of consent - out of his jeans.
Sirius looks up at him through his eyelashes, and if Remus didn’t know better he’d swear he was blushing (although what Sirius, fully clothed while Remus is standing here in his boxers, has to blush about Remus doesn’t know).
“Can I -” he asks, almost uncertain, and Remus pauses, breath hitching in his throat. Sirius’ hands are hot against the cold skin of his waist, almost bracketing his hips, and Remus nods.
Sirius slides Remus’ boxers down to his knees, definitely blushing now, tapping Remus’ foot until he steps out of his underwear. Sirius turns off the taps, and Remus thinks that Sirius’ hands might be shaking too.
When Remus steps into the bath, gasping roughly at the heat, he finds - confused, dazed, self-conscious - that the water is too hot to bear sitting down in, but that the cold air nipping at his bare skin makes him gasp, makes his chest ache. “Sirius,” he says, shaky, half-lost, and when Sirius steps forward and takes his hands again Remus finds his breath coming in fast gulps. “I can’t...” he says, shuddering, “I’m so cold. I’m so cold, I can’t...” And Sirius’ eyes widen at Remus’ expression, and Remus waits for - Merlin, he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but he certainly isn’t expecting what he gets. Sirius kicks off his shoes and takes off his scarf and steps into the bath beside Remus, still wearing his shirt and socks and trousers and jumper, and Remus says, “Sirius, what -” and trails off when Sirius puts his arms around him, stepping closer, pulling Remus a half-step forward until they’re hugging.
Remus clings to the back of Sirius’ jumper, still shaking, and startles when Sirius sits down, right there in the water with his clothes still on. He looks up at Remus, the look in his eyes half-challenging and half - something else entirely. When Sirius reaches out a hand Remus sits down after him, bewildered, only to realise that the water hurts. It’s sore against his skin and he half-gasps, closing his eyes when Sirius rubs his hands soothingly up and down the tops of his arms. He leans back slowly against Sirius’ chest, relaxing in increments.
When Remus is leaning right back, Sirius starts slopping the water up along Remus’ arms, his stomach, his chest, too hot but still somehow comforting. Remus relaxes into the heat, suddenly exhausted, feeling his head start to loll back against Sirius’ shoulder, almost nuzzling against his neck. “Moony,” Sirius breathes, startlingly close to his ear, and Remus is torn between being oddly self-conscious about being naked, even if Sirius is his best friend, even if he’s probably seen him undressed a hundred times before, ever morning and every Moon - and between simply feeling very vulnerable, here in the circle of Sirius’ arms, and very, very protected.
Sirius starts pouring water over his hair, sliding them both down so that more of Remus is underwater, and the water pours over his scalp and down his neck and his back and soon - before he really knows it - he has drifted off to sleep.
...
He wakes up still in the bath, with the water beginning to turn cold and Sirius standing on the bathroom floor, fully clothed and dripping wet and holding a towel. “Morning, dozy,” he smiles, and Remus glares at him drowsily and accepts Sirius’ hand, reached out to help him stand up.
He steps out of the bath and into Sirius, who wraps the folds of the towel around him, warm and comforting. Remus’ hands brace against Sirius’ chest as he steps forward, smiling, and looks up to find that Sirius’ eyes and mouth are startlingly closer-than-he-expected.
“Thanks,” he says, because it seems like the thing to say, and Sirius grins in the most unexpected way, his eyes sparkling. This is what Remus blames for being too busy looking at Sirius’ eyes to notice Sirius looking down at his mouth, once, twice, three times, and leaning in - and kissing him.
Sirius’ mouth feels warm against Remus’ still-cold skin, and his eyelashes graze Remus’ cheekbone, and his hand comes up to tangle through the wispy curls at the base of Remus’ neck.
“Don’t scare me like that, Moony,” Sirius whispers, mouthing the words against his lips, and Remus can’t promise anything like it and they both know it.
“I’ll try,” he says instead, unsteady, pressing another kiss to Sirius’ lips, and it feels like more than enough.
...
That night finds Remus wearing his oldest jeans and another of Sirius’ sweaters, far too big for him and with a pattern of kneazles. He’s cuddled up with Sirius, practically spooning together on the couch in front of the fireplace, and when Lily looks over she rolls her eyes and mutters something about ‘What took them so bloody long?’
Remus barely hears. Sirius is nuzzling his nose against the back of his neck, chattering about what he’s planning for the Christmas feast, and then his hand slips down until his fingers brush up against Remus’ palm, hidden inside the sleeve of the sweater, and suddenly they’re holding hands and it would probably be secret if both of them weren’t blushing.
The clock above the fireplace chimes, startling them both, and Remus looks up to see that it’s midnight.
“Merry Christmas, Moony,” Sirius whispers, his lips seeking out Remus’ mouth for a brief, warm kiss. Peter coughs, and James cheers, and the fourth year girls in the corner coo over them, and Lily just smiles and rolls her eyes again.
The castle bells, high up in one of the tallest towers, start ringing in the background; ringing in Christmas. Sirius’ kiss is gentle, and his free hand is cupping Remus’ cheek, and when he pulls back Remus can see that his eyes are sparkling.
He smiles.
“Merry Christmas.”
Author: mayberry_rose
Recipient: littlewolfstar
Rating: PG-13
Highlight for Warnings: *Boys kissing, fluff, Christmas-y sweetness :D*
Word Count:1900
Summary:Remus is cold, and Sirius is concerned, and all kinds of things snowball a little out of control :)
Author's notes:Littlewolfstar, thank you for the wonderful prompt - I hope you like it. Merry Christmas, everyone!
It’s all Sirius’s fault.
It’s Sirius who throws the first snowball - James turns around, an arm proudly slung around Lily’s shoulders, and he only has a split second before his eyes widen comically and the snowball, freshly packed, impacts with his face.
Sirius grins at Remus and then runs away, cackling manically. James glares after him, his lips quirking into a half-grin, and Remus rolls his eyes when he gives chase.
Inevitably, the second or third snowball hits Peter, who manages to retaliate by smacking Remus in the side of the head with a handful of powdered snow. Sirius springs to his defence, still grinning, chapped lips parted in an impromptu war-cry.
Remus stands back for a moment, watching his whooping, laughing friends race around the castle grounds. The soft blanket of snow covers everything, pure and almost untouched; it’s Christmas Eve, and there are few students left to disturb it. He smiles, arms folded. His hands are cold inside his gloves, his cheeks scoured red by the bitter wind; his body feels heavy and clumsy, still, two days after the Moon. He’s wearing two jumpers, his own and the one Sirius forced on him before agreeing to let him out of the dorm.
“Moony!” Sirius yells, and Remus turns too late to avoid the snowball James throws at him. He scoops the snow out of his eyes, catches James sniggering helplessly - and growls, scooping up a handful of snow and racing after him.
...
It’s Peter who spots Snape standing beside the lake, but James who convinces them all to creep up behind him. Lily rolls her eyes, but laughs when James’s snowball smashes into the back of Snape’s head, white against the dark hair. Remus has to bite his lip to keep from laughing himself. Sirius and James and Peter crack up at once, and as they’re running away Sirius slips an arm around Remus’ waist, half tickling him until Remus slaps his hands away, starting to laugh as well.
Lily looks a little disapproving, but James starts building a snowman for her, transforming it into a snowwoman half-way through in the interests of women’s lib. Peter helps, and Sirius chips in until he sees Remus standing back a bit, rubbing his hands together for warmth.
“Moony?” Sirius asks, breaking away from fashioning the snowwoman’s bikini, “Alright?”
“Yeah,” Remus says vaguely, but Sirius bounds over, skidding to a stop beside him to put a hand on Remus’ arm. He peers at him for a moment, frowning, and turns around to James and the others. “I think we’re going to head inside now,” he says, an echo of concern in his tone.
James and Peter shrug, and Lily looks at them piercingly. Then James tips a handful of slush down her neck, and they escape under cover of the shrieks.
...
As they’re trekking back up the stairs, dripping all over the clean floors, the castle is near-deserted. Almost all of the younger students have headed home for Christmas, but Sirius stayed for lack of anywhere else to go, and Lily stayed for access to the library, and James stayed for Lily and Remus, secretly, stayed for Sirius.
Remus shivers, rolling his shoulders back. He feels stiff, his head aching, just like it has been for the last few weeks of exams being stressful and weather being cold and the Moon being somehow worse than usual. His hands are still numb, but his face is burning. All his skin feels hot and prickly and tight, and when Sirius turns around to say something to him Remus finds that he can hardly focus on the words.
“Moony?” Sirius says, loudly, sharp-edged, and when Remus says “I’m fine,” Sirius doesn’t look like he believes him at all. Sirius frowns, and when Remus shivers again he finds himself being manhandled up the stairs, through the empty common room, back to their dorm.
...
It’s a mess. Sirius has left his duvet on the floor, and James has two pairs of jeans and a T-shirt of Lily’s draped over the edge of his bed, and when Sirius steps away Remus finds himself staring at that duvet, shivering so fiercely that it looks to him like it’s bouncing around by itself.
“Merlin, Remus,” Sirius says, pressing the palm of his hand to Remus’ forehead, biting hard at his lip. He drags Remus towards the shower rooms, turning the taps on the old, white bath tub, and - confused but unquestioning - Remus follows.
When Sirius turns to look at him, his eyes are bright and wide. He steps forward to tug Remus’ gloves off, droplets of water caught rounded in the wool, and holds Remus’ hands between his own while the bath fills up. Sirius’ skin feels scalding hot, almost sore where it touches him, but when Sirius moves his hands away to shrug off his own cloak Remus clings, wanting them back.
Remus is trembling violently, beginning to warm up enough to recognise that he’s unbearably cold, sore and almost dazed with it. When Sirius steps back, muttering to him about needing to get him warm quickly, Remus has to clench his jaw to keep from gasping. The cold air of the bathroom breaks in waves against his skin as Sirius deftly unbuttons his cloak, helping him out of both of his jumpers and his old, faded T-shirt, and then - after Remus’ nod of consent - out of his jeans.
Sirius looks up at him through his eyelashes, and if Remus didn’t know better he’d swear he was blushing (although what Sirius, fully clothed while Remus is standing here in his boxers, has to blush about Remus doesn’t know).
“Can I -” he asks, almost uncertain, and Remus pauses, breath hitching in his throat. Sirius’ hands are hot against the cold skin of his waist, almost bracketing his hips, and Remus nods.
Sirius slides Remus’ boxers down to his knees, definitely blushing now, tapping Remus’ foot until he steps out of his underwear. Sirius turns off the taps, and Remus thinks that Sirius’ hands might be shaking too.
When Remus steps into the bath, gasping roughly at the heat, he finds - confused, dazed, self-conscious - that the water is too hot to bear sitting down in, but that the cold air nipping at his bare skin makes him gasp, makes his chest ache. “Sirius,” he says, shaky, half-lost, and when Sirius steps forward and takes his hands again Remus finds his breath coming in fast gulps. “I can’t...” he says, shuddering, “I’m so cold. I’m so cold, I can’t...” And Sirius’ eyes widen at Remus’ expression, and Remus waits for - Merlin, he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but he certainly isn’t expecting what he gets. Sirius kicks off his shoes and takes off his scarf and steps into the bath beside Remus, still wearing his shirt and socks and trousers and jumper, and Remus says, “Sirius, what -” and trails off when Sirius puts his arms around him, stepping closer, pulling Remus a half-step forward until they’re hugging.
Remus clings to the back of Sirius’ jumper, still shaking, and startles when Sirius sits down, right there in the water with his clothes still on. He looks up at Remus, the look in his eyes half-challenging and half - something else entirely. When Sirius reaches out a hand Remus sits down after him, bewildered, only to realise that the water hurts. It’s sore against his skin and he half-gasps, closing his eyes when Sirius rubs his hands soothingly up and down the tops of his arms. He leans back slowly against Sirius’ chest, relaxing in increments.
When Remus is leaning right back, Sirius starts slopping the water up along Remus’ arms, his stomach, his chest, too hot but still somehow comforting. Remus relaxes into the heat, suddenly exhausted, feeling his head start to loll back against Sirius’ shoulder, almost nuzzling against his neck. “Moony,” Sirius breathes, startlingly close to his ear, and Remus is torn between being oddly self-conscious about being naked, even if Sirius is his best friend, even if he’s probably seen him undressed a hundred times before, ever morning and every Moon - and between simply feeling very vulnerable, here in the circle of Sirius’ arms, and very, very protected.
Sirius starts pouring water over his hair, sliding them both down so that more of Remus is underwater, and the water pours over his scalp and down his neck and his back and soon - before he really knows it - he has drifted off to sleep.
...
He wakes up still in the bath, with the water beginning to turn cold and Sirius standing on the bathroom floor, fully clothed and dripping wet and holding a towel. “Morning, dozy,” he smiles, and Remus glares at him drowsily and accepts Sirius’ hand, reached out to help him stand up.
He steps out of the bath and into Sirius, who wraps the folds of the towel around him, warm and comforting. Remus’ hands brace against Sirius’ chest as he steps forward, smiling, and looks up to find that Sirius’ eyes and mouth are startlingly closer-than-he-expected.
“Thanks,” he says, because it seems like the thing to say, and Sirius grins in the most unexpected way, his eyes sparkling. This is what Remus blames for being too busy looking at Sirius’ eyes to notice Sirius looking down at his mouth, once, twice, three times, and leaning in - and kissing him.
Sirius’ mouth feels warm against Remus’ still-cold skin, and his eyelashes graze Remus’ cheekbone, and his hand comes up to tangle through the wispy curls at the base of Remus’ neck.
“Don’t scare me like that, Moony,” Sirius whispers, mouthing the words against his lips, and Remus can’t promise anything like it and they both know it.
“I’ll try,” he says instead, unsteady, pressing another kiss to Sirius’ lips, and it feels like more than enough.
...
That night finds Remus wearing his oldest jeans and another of Sirius’ sweaters, far too big for him and with a pattern of kneazles. He’s cuddled up with Sirius, practically spooning together on the couch in front of the fireplace, and when Lily looks over she rolls her eyes and mutters something about ‘What took them so bloody long?’
Remus barely hears. Sirius is nuzzling his nose against the back of his neck, chattering about what he’s planning for the Christmas feast, and then his hand slips down until his fingers brush up against Remus’ palm, hidden inside the sleeve of the sweater, and suddenly they’re holding hands and it would probably be secret if both of them weren’t blushing.
The clock above the fireplace chimes, startling them both, and Remus looks up to see that it’s midnight.
“Merry Christmas, Moony,” Sirius whispers, his lips seeking out Remus’ mouth for a brief, warm kiss. Peter coughs, and James cheers, and the fourth year girls in the corner coo over them, and Lily just smiles and rolls her eyes again.
The castle bells, high up in one of the tallest towers, start ringing in the background; ringing in Christmas. Sirius’ kiss is gentle, and his free hand is cupping Remus’ cheek, and when he pulls back Remus can see that his eyes are sparkling.
He smiles.
“Merry Christmas.”