Fic: Nuturing_roads

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Title: Cigarettes Will Kill You
Author: jamesly
Written for: nuturing_roads
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "I thought you didn’t smoke, says Sirius, his cigarette dancing a delicate balance between his fingertips." Loads of conversation and not loads of angst or sap. :)
A/N: Oh, goodness, I realized on probably Monday that this deadline was today, not Saturday. That was a bit of an adventure to finish on time, and even then, I bet it'll be tomorrow by the time I've italicized everything. A million thanks to my beta, Lindsay, for finishing this so quickly - if there are any little errors missed, let me know!

December 18th

When Sirius appears on his doorstep in the heat of the worst storm London’s seen in ages, soggy, silent, and caked with mud and blood, James helps him off with his damp things and tosses Sirius his favorite pajamas with the dragons on them. Soon, they are sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, hot sandwiches and bitter black coffee steaming fiercely.

Sirius asks James for a cigarette. James goes and reaches up to the cupboard above the sink, where his mother keeps her treasure trove of crisp cigarette packages.

James is the only one that doesn’t smoke. Peter prefers joints, wrapped up in cream paper, out and nestled under the heavily leaning willow on the far side of the lake; Remus and Sirius prefer their acrid tobacco, unearthed from chest pockets and cloak pockets, crumpled boxes from which they pluck thin cigarettes, lit deftly with an expert hand. James prefers to nurse green-necked bottles of nettle wine, dark and frothy, swishing each drink around his mouth like a rinse. They smoke like chimneys; James drinks like a fish.

But when he tosses Sirius a pack and Sirius lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing out a stream of tobacco smoke, James says, Give it here, and chews on a cigarette between his lips. He coughs two or three times; Sirius doesn’t say anything. James has it, within a few minutes.

I thought you didn’t smoke, says Sirius, his cigarette dancing a delicate balance between his fingertips. His voice is brittle and close to broken.

I don’t, says James. He corrects himself: I didn’t.

He doesn’t say today is an exception, because when there is a war expanding swiftly and silently out the kitchen windows and when underage teenage boys have to run away from home and grow up too fast, cigarettes are a cheap comfort to turn to. Within the first several puffs, James knows he’ll be smoking like a chimney.

They sit in silence, a low smoky haze settling in the kitchen, clinging to the curls and kinks of their hair. James doesn’t say today is an exception because he and Sirius are for the light, for everything that is moral and right, and it doesn’t matter if they smoke a cigarette now and again – both of them, with their dark as night hair and snapping eyes, know the good die young.

Something as simple as a cigarette won’t kill them.

December 19th

Mrs. Potter doesn’t pay any notice to the fact that there are two shirtless boys padding sleepily into her kitchen instead of one, and simply cracks another three eggs into the frying pan.

December 20th

The Lupins and the Pettigrews are expected on Christmas Eve, in four days time. James floos Remus after lunch, when Sirius is napping, and asks him if he might want to come over a few days early; he tells Remus he is rotten at the kind of conversation he thinks Sirius wants, that he can’t even hold a candlestick to the kind of work Remus does.

Remus says, Yeah, sure, and runs up the stairs to ask his mother.

Two hours later, he stumbles through the fireplace onto the hearth, brushing ashes from his rolled sleeves. Sirius looks up from his hands and shouts, bowling Remus over. James dog-ears his book and leaves quietly.

Remus and Sirius don’t notice.

December 22nd

They are out gathering firewood, the pair of them, heaving small logs onto the pile outside the kitchen window. James is helping his mother with the eggnog, and grows increasingly jolly every time they see him through the windowpane.

Trudging through thigh-high snow is difficult, and the air is silent but for the crunching of the snow beneath their boots and their labored, chattering breaths. Remus doesn’t seem inclined to stop, so Sirius plows through the drift to keep up with Remus’s long strides.

Moony, he says, Moony, wait up, you’re going awfully fast.

Step in my footsteps, then, says Remus, You’ll go much faster.

Sirius whines, but jumps from imprint to imprint in Remus’s wake.

They walk for a good while, Sirius still leaping into Remus’s shadow, Remus pushing forward through the snow like a freight train. After a longer time, Sirius’s leaps begin to wane, becoming more like skips and hops as they near the crown of a hill.

After several long steps, they are both perched atop a fence. Mountains and trees dusted with a frosting of snow surround like protective arms, trailing down to the valley, where the Potter house is nestled amongst the maple grove.

I thought we ought to take a break, says Remus, We deserve it, I figure.

Yeah, says Sirius, panting heavily, Yeah, I think we do.

Remus doesn’t seem winded at all, kicking his heels against the lower fence pole, knocking apart some frost.

Smoke, Pads?

Sure.

Digging through his coat pocket, Remus unearths a familiar crumpled box and plucks two thin cigarettes. He hands one to Sirius and they both flare up, their smoke mingling with frozen breath.

So, says Remus, tapping the ashes into the snow, Spit it out, then.

Sirius pretends that he doesn’t know what Remus is talking about by saying how dreary the weather is and doesn’t it look like a flurry?

Remus glares at him. Sirius shrinks.

Right, says Sirius, Right. So, I left.

Clearly, says Remus dryly, Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

Yes, I know, says Sirius in a rush, But I left, I left for good. I’m not going back.

Remus doesn’t look surprised.

I’m not surprised, he says. He takes a drag and blows it out, readjusting his feet for better balance on the post. You only complained about things that didn’t matter, and you never complained about home.

That wasn’t home, says Sirius, You ‘n James ‘n Pete are home.

Remus leans forward and drops the butt of his cigarette in the snow, a slight hiss rising from the ashes. I hear James, he says simply, We should go back.

Sirius throws his butt next to Remus’s in the snow and they trudge together silently down the hill to the backdoor, where Mrs. Potter greets them tipsily with cookies and fresh eggnog, a crooked, welcoming smile on her face.

December 23rd

Check, says Sirius.

Checkmate, says Remus. Sirius swears and scowls, his grey eyes scanning the board. See, says Remus, Right there, you missed my bishop.

Sirius pushes the board away, a wrinkle forming between his brows. No more chess, he says, Let’s do something else.

Like what? asks Remus, James is sleeping and it’s freezing outside. My coat won’t stand up much longer against your torrent of snowballs.

Well, says Sirius, Would your coat be up to a tree climb?

Now, says Remus, What exactly would we do in a tree that we couldn’t do in this room, warm and by the fire?

Smoke, says Sirius.

You’re addicted, says Remus fondly, And besides, Mrs. Potter lets us smoke inside. Have you any other half-brained ideas?

Sirius bumps his rook against Remus’s knight. Firewood, he says, You can’t collect firewood inside a living room.

Remus throws back his head and roars with laughter. Right, he says, You can’t – let’s go then, you mutt.
_

Remind me, says Remus, shivering in his overcoat, Remind me why I agreed to climb this tree?

Sirius is propped up on the branch beneath Remus, his hair flecked with snowflakes sifted from the pine bristles. His hands are hidden in dark blue gloves, his cigarette just visible between his giant fingers.

Collecting firewood, says Sirius.

Fine job we’ve done of that, says Remus, I don’t see any firewood here.

You’re sitting on it, says Sirius, Get off your arse.

I detest you, says Remus, I detest you entirely.

You don’t mean it, really, says Sirius, You old softie.

They puff amongst the green and brown and gnarled branches, the orange ashes at the end of their cigarettes jutting out amongst the dark colors of their coats.

Remus gnashes his teeth; Sirius knows Remus wants to say something, and he’s got a pretty good idea of what it might be.

I don’t want to talk about it, Sirius says, So, don’t ask.

I’ll ask whatever I damn well please, snaps Remus. He brushes his hair out of his eyes. Besides, how do you know that’s what I’m going to ask?

Because I know you, says Sirius, I know you’ll ask why I left and how is it so bad that I can’t go back and look at this mess, now what are you going to do, where are you going to stay?

Actually, says Remus, I was only going to ask why you left.

Sirius has grace enough to blush. Oh, he says, Oh. Sorry.

‘S all right, says Remus, So why’d you leave?

Sirius blushes darker, his cheeks taking on a rosy magenta pallor.

I, he says, Left some…some things out, things out that I shouldn’t have. He pauses. Remus gestures for him to move on. Sirius coughs.

Inappropriate things, says Sirius.

Inappropriate things like –

Like inappropriate things that are, er, inappropriate..

My, says Remus, Eloquence certainly is your strong point.

That’s enough firewood for the day, don’t you think? says Sirius quickly, swinging from a branch and leaping down to the snow. It’s awful cold, we ought to get inside, I bet dinner’s on the table already.

Remus thinks, But we haven’t even gotten any firewood; he jumps down and follows Sirius up to the house anyways.

December 24th

Sirius can’t remember that last time he’d had so much fun. The Lupins and the Pettigrews had pressed the bell around three ‘o’ clock, bearing bundles of what he thought looked suspiciously like presents, wrapped up in at least four layers each.

Remus had greeted his mother with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug from his father. Sirius had felt a low burn in his stomach when he saw Mr. Lupin’s arms envelope his son in a swirl of blue and white zigzag wool. Remus had spit out the fuzz his father’s sleeve had pushed into his mouth and took long strides back over to Sirius, swinging an arm around his shoulder.

Sirius remembered thinking the evening was going to be a lot better after that moment.

Dinner had been thoroughly entertaining, where Mrs. Pettigrew had grown more and more giggly with every glass of wine and where Mr. Potter had told the four of them in a low voice that if they felt like a bit of this-and-that, they could most certainly have it.

James had whooped and Peter had hollered and Remus had downed a shot of vodka. Sirius had popped the cap off a bottle of firewhiskey and it had all gone down from there.

Sirius feels rather jolly, and tells Remus so. The pair of them are sitting together on the loveseat, mashed side by side, though Sirius still manages to sprawl a bit.

Moony, says Sirius, Remus, my boy –

Remus seems to Sirius a good deal more collected than he ought to be.

Yes, Sirius?

We are mashed, says Sirius, Awfully mashed.

We certainly are, says Remus, Awfully mashed, and you’re awfully smashed.

Moony! shouts Sirius, Didn’t know you were sweet on me! Calling me smashing, you charmer –

I certainly am, says Remus, his eyes crinkling at the corners, Unfortunately for me, you won’t remember any of this at all in the morning, and I’ll have to start from scratch.

Sirius tries to focus on one Remus, instead of three. He gives up after a few minutes and throws up his hands. The clock above the mantle chimes twelve times, the sound reverberating heavily throughout the room.

‘S midnight, says Remus, Christmas.

Y’know, says Sirius suddenly, I left because of you.

Pardon, says Remus, Pardon me, what?

I left home because of you, says Sirius, Regulus heard me, ah, saying your name once -

Remus raises his eyebrows.

Or twice, says Sirius quickly, Or three, or four –

I – I get the picture, Pads, interrupts Remus. He fumbles for his glass; even in the intoxicating glow brought upon by copious amounts of alcohol, Sirius knows that Remus never really fumbles.

Yeah, so, says Sirius, That’s why.

In essence, says Remus, You were kicked out because you were masturbating over my name?

And your hands, and your hair, and that obnoxious way you’re always right, except in Transfiguration when I’m always right –

Sirius stops short.

Oh, fuck.

He can feel the blood rushing to his head.

Oh fuck indeed, says Remus, his voice a little high-pitched. So, right, I’m off, to bed, I’ll see you in the morning –

‘S already morning –

Right, I’ll see you later this morning, please excuse me –

He plows through the rainbow of coats scattered on the floor to the hallway, stumbling a little over a pair of red galoshes. Sirius stares.

Fuck me, he says and tries to wade through the coats in Remus’s wake.

December 25th

Remus! yells Sirius, Remus! Moony!

He hears a cough from the study, his eyes following the sliver of golden light that slices the wood-paneled corridor. Creeping towards the doorway, Sirius hears the floorboards creaking, as someone paces back and forth. He figures (and hopes) it’s Remus.

He throws open the door dramatically. Remus drops his glass and gasps. The glass shatters into several big pieces, whiskey still clinging to the shards and edges.

My god, says Remus, Don’t do that!

Sorry, says Sirius, looking abashed.

They stare at one another. Remus has his left hand shoved into the pocket of his trousers, his right with two fingers pinching a cigarette.

Hey, says Sirius, Can I have one of those? He gestures towards the cigarette.

Uh, says Remus, Of course, yeah, sure. He shuffles through his pockets and comes out empty-handed. I’m out, he mutters, Perfect. Fantastic. Splendid.

Can I share that one?

Remus eyes his cigarette. I – I suppose you – I suppose you could, he says.

Sirius strides over and takes a deep drag, shaking his hair out. He hears a small cough and hands the cigarette back to Remus.

So, says Sirius, About what I said earlier –

Remus says nothing.

Do you – do you want to?

Remus’s eyes narrow. Do I want to do what, Sirius?

Give it a go, Sirius says, The whole bloke-bloke thing.

Are you out of your bloody mind? hisses Remus, Are you joking around?

Given the circumstances, Sirius figures honesty is the best policy here.

Yeah, kind of – I mean. No. Not joking. Maybe out of my bloody mind, but not joking.

Remus starts to pace back and forth again furiously, throwing his hands up in vicious swings of the arm, frantically taking puffs of his cigarette in between each shout.

You expect me – Puff – to give into one of your ludicrous – Puff – ideas about giving this whole bloke-bloke thing a try – Puff – and you expect me to just agree, don’t you – Puff – you just expect me to agree, and go along, and that’s not what this is about, Sirius Black, you are not roping me into this –

Sirius swipes the cigarette as Remus passes him by. Remus stops, incredulous.

What? says Sirius, shrugging his shoulders. You were going to smoke it all.

I can’t believe you, says Remus, finally. I can’t bloody well believe you. He pauses. Give me that cigarette.

He plucks it out of Sirius’s hand.

Do you have any idea – Remus stops again, breathing hard. Do you have any idea, any idea whatsoever – I’m not just someone you can practice on, Sirius, I’m not a dress rehearsal, I’m real, this is my life you’re toying with -

Look, I’m sorry, all right?

What?

I said, I’m sorry, all right?

Remus looks as though he isn’t quite sure what to do with Sirius.

I didn’t mean to be, y’know, insensitive, or whatever, says Sirius, C’mon, mate, I’m piss drunk, we’re at a Christmas party, I’m pouring my fucking heart out to you here, and all you can do is throw up your hands and ask if I’m kidding you or not!

Well how am I –

Supposed to know, sure, well, you’re supposed to believe me, Remus John Lupin, because that’s what friends do, they believe it when their best mates tell them something that is so clearly and obviously coming from the depths of their soul –

You’re going to fucking kill me, Sirius Black, says Remus John Lupin, grabbing the front of Sirius’s jumper and smashing their lips together.

Your cigarette, says Sirius faintly, when Remus pulls apart, It’s fallen, it’s fallen on the carpet, it might burn the house down –

Remus stamps out the butt with his foot.

Better, says Sirius, Loads better.

Yes, says Remus, his eyes glowing. Sirius swallows heavily, leaning back against the bookcase. Loads better, I agree.

Should we, y’know, should we think this through, or, talk about it, or what –

We can figure that out in the morning, says Remus in a low, growling voice, Besides, you hate talking. You pushed me, Sirius, and now you’re going to get what’s coming to you, or I swear -

He moves forward, his hair catching the light.

Before – ah, before we begin, stammers Sirius, Uh, I would like to just, I would like to just point out that, right, that I’m not going – are you following me here, Moony? – I’m not going to be one to kill you, I’m not going to kill you.

If you don’t shut up and put that mouth of yours to better use –

It’s the cigarettes, crows Sirius, pleased with his joke, pointing to the butt ground into the carpet with his finger, The cigarettes will kill you!

You bastard, says Remus, his eyes crinkling, You complete and utter bastard.

Sirius grins, tilts his neck back, and beckons with a barking laugh that echoes down the halls.
_

Comments

[secretsolitaire.livejournal.com]

This was wonderful! I love the dialogue here; it reads very naturally. And even though I think smoking is gross in real life, it worked really well here -- I can just picture them sitting and smoking up in a tree. :-D Lovely work.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :D

[maraudersaffair.livejournal.com]

Only the good die young - that's a really great Billy Joel song. XD

Absolutely loved it - I really, really liked your characterization of Remus in this one. He is so obnoxious and so, so great. Love it.

And the dialogue between each character, it just seems so nature, so prefect - wonderful!

:D

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Definitely my favorite Billy Joel song - I had to slip a reference in somehow! :D

YOU LIKE REMUS YES! This is a stronger interpretation than I usually do, so I'd hoped it would come off well. WOO.

(Sorry, logged in originally on reg. journal.)

[solemnly-swear1.livejournal.com]

*sigh* The loveliness! I love it.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

<3!

[nurturing-roads.livejournal.com]

Oh my! You managed all the requests--and even pulled some quotes from the song! My stocking overflow-eth! I love the Remus characterization--especially the parallel bits about Sirius following in his wake in the snow and then through the coats. And the bit at the beginning about realizing a)they're the good guys and b)the good die young--clever. And perhaps I've not wandered around the right halls in the fandom, but I will say that I'd never thought of the 'Sirius runs away from home because of Remus' angle. Very cool. Thanks ever so much! (*hug*)

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

A+! I'm so glad you liked it! Okay, goodgood, I tried so hard to make Remus work, and that was the bit I was most of afraid of not working out. Oh, fantastic.

:DDD!

(Sorry, logged in on reg. journal.)

[glass-icarus.livejournal.com]

eeeeeeee! LUFF. i had to stifle very small high-pitched noises at the thought of sirius bouncing from footprint to footprint behind remus :D

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

:D!

[lotrwariorgodss.livejournal.com]

Oh, this was beautifully written. I really love your characterization of all the boys, but especially James, when he knows he can't help Sirius, so gets Remus to come early - that was brilliant. I also really like the sort of desperation you show in them, a kind of reverse invincibility complex, where they know they're going to die soon, but it's more rule than exception. Lovely, lovely story.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Thank you verrrry much! God, this is my favorite era to write, ever, so I'm glad you liked.

(Sorry, logged in on regular journal.)

[ishonn.livejournal.com]

Oh how brilliant! I adore this, I really do. I love your characterisation of the boys, in character and still containing some fresh traces. I love the plot and the style, and the way you introduce dialogue, which makes it look so natural and the story flow smoothly. Great job!

[rainsquall.livejournal.com]

Mmm. Delicious.

[iz-alicious.livejournal.com]

Even though R/S is not my usual cup of tea, this story was delightful. :) It was a little confusing at times without the quote marks, though.

[sleeper6.livejournal.com]

I so much enjoyed this. Getting-together fics are the best, and yours is great.

Give it a go, Sirius says, The whole bloke-bloke thing. Couldn't have said it better!

Lovely all around.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

:D

[jazzonia.livejournal.com]

This is quite beautiful! Perfectly deserving of my first comment of this new year.

I loved the lack of quotation marks, because it made everything seem so much more natural. The smoking in the snow -- squee! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Awww, thanks!

[graceland428.livejournal.com]

Wow... I loved this. Smoking is SO my favorite kink. :D

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Ha, everyone loves the smoking! It must be a popular kink.

[liseuse.livejournal.com]

Oh. This was wonderful. The dialogue was amazing, and I can just imagine Remus standing there shouting that he isn't a dres rehearsal. The lack of quote marks worked well, made it all seem so very flowy.
Plus, smoking. Always a kink.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

One of the best kinks there is!

<3!

[busaikko]

Oh, I do love a smoking fic, and this is not only a smoking fic but one in which everyone - everyone! - is drunk and smoking. It fills me with unholy glee and gives it that aura of repressed wartime hysteria. Remus grinding out his cigarette on the floor made me whimper.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

Hahaha, I love how everyone's fixated on the smoking bit. It's such a good kink, I can't even handle it. Also, repressed wartime hysteria is so utterly romantic and dark and terrible (I look to WWII) and mmm I'm glad you used that way to describe it. Now I'll really have to write a repressed wartime hysteria fic.

[liseuse.livejournal.com]

Oh, you have to! Everyone can sit around drinking gin and being dreadfully uptight. It'll be glorious.

And the smoking kink makes me feel better about my own naughty habit. Ahem.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

It would be absolutely glorious. Now I'm honor-bound to write this.

And the smoking kink makes me feel better about my own naughty habit.

Word. XD

[kawaii-tenshi27.livejournal.com]

Wow. Lovely. Fantastic. And all sorts of other wonderful words besides. :) The boys are all just so... yes. Well, you know. You wrote it. :D

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

<3! Thank youuu. Oh, I love the boys. Love, love, love. I really should expand to other couples, but - mmm. Remus and Sirius are so much fun to write.

[aura218.livejournal.com]

Nosh is Jewish for snack.

Pretty good.

[jamesly.livejournal.com]

That's rad! I just always like the word "nosh", so, uh, I basically applied it to anything edible.

Thanks!

[blackxlupin.livejournal.com]

Brilliant. I absolutely loved it. Thanks so much for sharing.

[callmesandy.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed this! :)