Fic: Drunk on Love for Cevennes
Dec. 1st, 2014 09:52 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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small_giftsTitle: Drunk on Love
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
museinabsentia
Recipient:cevennes
Rating: PG
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None *
Word count: ~4500
Summary: Post second war AU in which Remus cheats at baking, Padfoot plays in the snow, and Christmas jumpers combined with mulled wine may lead to something old becoming something new.
Notes: I realize that I don’t quite have them snowed in as requested, but I hope this is close enough.
Also, thank you to my wonderful beta for the extremely last minute help, and for the title suggestion!
The door to Sirius’ bedroom slammed shut with far more force than he intended. He winced slightly, dropping an armful of gift wrapping supplies onto his burgundy comforter. He had dragged them out to join the pile that was already in various states of disarray all over the floor. Fortunately, Remus was down in the kitchen and probably couldn’t hear the door. Hopefully.
When he had first suggested to his old friend that they have a Christmas celebration and invite Harry, Ron and Hermione, it had sounded like a wonderful distraction. Remus, who had been trying to find his own place since the war had ended months earlier, had thrown himself into preparations like they were an assignment due to McGonagall. Sirius was just grateful to anything that distracted Remus from looking for somewhere else to live. He enjoyed having the werewolf for company.
The part Sirius still wasn’t sure about was why he volunteered Grimauld Place for the festivities, other than they had nowhere else to have them. In the little time since Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, had granted Sirius his official pardon they had barely gotten the house to acceptably safe for habitation and it certainly wasn’t connected to the floo network yet. Christmas was no time to try and refurnish a house. There were only a few rooms that were truly comfortable, the rest awaiting a full makeover once the shopping rush had died down a little.
The only rooms that were actually finished were the room that Remus was currently using as a bedroom, the kitchen, a parlor and Sirius’ bedroom, where Sirius himself was currently hiding. I’m being productive, had become a recurring mantra as he sank down to the floor, back leaning against the side of his oak bedframe. The matching wardrobe stared back at him in disbelief.
There were balls of wrapping paper crumpled all around his feet, brightly colored baubles in red and gold with only hints of green that made dry leaf noises if he tried to move. The small stack of gifts he had accrued for Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as the small pile for Remus (which he had promised himself would not get out of hand and yet had grown every time he left the house and saw something else his friend would like) all sat scattered amidst the chaos of wrapping supplies. They were decidedly still not wrapped.
This newfound determination to best his ineptitude at all things muggle and wrap these gifts without magic didn’t come so much from any inclination to avoid magic at the holidays as it did from the entirely too enticing smells coming from the tiny kitchen below. Or, more accurately, the urge to avoid the man creating the smells and the way his tacky Christmas jumper, cream with red reindeer that were a little too reminiscent of Prongs for his taste, emphasized the wiry muscles in his forearms when he pushed the sleeves up to just below his elbows while stirring the Christmas pudding.
“It’s entirely unfair,” Sirius mumbled, addressing his tape-coated fingers, “that a jumper that horrid makes him look so bloody edible.” When the only reply was a sticky peeling noise as he tried to separate his fingers he sighed heavily. “I doubt he would appreciate my telling him to sod the pudding, I’d rather eat him anyway. How exactly do I get myself into these situations?” The scraps of wrapping paper were no help at all.
With an exasperated huff he reached up to his loosely tied ponytail where he had stuck his wand so it wouldn’t get lost in the mess. The tape on his fingers stuck to some escaped strands and he yelped as he pulled a few out. “Buggering fuck!” Slinking out of his bedroom he slammed the door behind him and clomped his way down to the kitchen.
Habit had him tiptoeing past the hole in the wall where, finally tired of Walburga Black’s ranting, they had simply blasted out the section of wall her portrait had been adhered to and moved the whole thing to the attic, surrounded by heavy silencing charms. They had left the hole as a testament to their ingenuity at getting some peace and quiet. As a result, Remus didn’t hear him walking up behind him.
Remus was levitating a tray of biscuits onto a Winsome Witches Instacool rack. Sirius leaned against the doorframe allowing himself this moment to watch and pointedly ignoring the tightening in his chest that had become more and more pronounced these last few weeks as he watched his friend throw himself into the Christmas spirit with a level of domesticity that left Sirius aching to wake up next to him and argue over breakfast between stolen kisses.
The last couple biscuits to leave the tray hit the floor in a gooey mess when Remus noticed Sirius standing in the doorway, barefoot, burgundy jumper covered in bits of ribbon and shreds of paper, tape stuck to his fingers, wand sticking out of his hair and his mouth hanging open.
With a chuckle Remus vanished the mess from the floor. “Do I dare ask after the state of the rest of the wrapping supplies?”
Sirius felt his face warm and briefly entertained the thought of turning into Padfoot to play up the pitiful look, but quickly gave it up with a shudder at the thought of tape stuck to his paws. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, widened his eyes and gave his best human impersonation of Padfoot’s whine. “Moony,” he whimpered, holding out his hands.
“Couldn’t get to your own wand?”
Sirius bit down an entirely inappropriate response and turned around so Remus could see the tape that was stuck in his hair from when he tried. “It didn’t go so well,” he muttered, turning back in time to see the remnants of a laugh in Remus’ caramel colored eyes.
“Why exactly did you insist on the muggle approach to gift wrapping?” Remus chuckled, flicking his wand casually to right the mess Sirius had made of himself.
The feeling of tape vanishing from his fingers left Sirius feeling slightly peeled. “Just seemed like the thing to do,” he mumbled, eyeing the rack of gingersnaps and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out an embarrassing diatribe about puddings and ridiculous jumpers. “I didn’t know you could bake, too, Moony.”
Remus let him change the subject, turning a wonderful shade of light pink. “Ah, well.” He indicated a container on the marble counter which read: Hansel and Gretel’s Gingerbread Crumbs. “Just add an aguamenti,” he mumbled.
“Why Remus Lupin you little cheat! How very Marauderish of you.”
“I just thought they would be nice, what with Harry, Ron and Hermione coming by tomorrow. Speaking of which, did Harry’s last owl mention if he was bringing Ginny as well?”
“I believe so. Also, Dora said she might stop by and finally introduce us to that new bird she’s been seeing, but it’s even money that they never make it here after she subjects the poor girl to inspection by Andromeda.”
Remus snickered and turned back to the stove.
Sirius was transfixed by the way the muscles in Remus’ shoulders bunched as he stirred slowly. How in the bloody hell did I ever survive Potions all those years ago? he mused, while trying not to give in to the overwhelming temptation to wrap his arms around his friend and find out if he now smelled like gingerbread.
A tapping at the window wrenched him forcefully from his slightly dazed, and not so subtle, appreciation of the curve of Remus’ neck where it joined his shoulder. He blinked a couple of times to see Remus opening the window to let Harry’s very snow covered owl in.
“It’s snowing?” he burst out, rushing over and sticking his head out the window. Shivering, he ducked back in seconds later, his black hair liberally dotted with rapidly melting snowflakes. “It’s snowing!” Sirius promptly turned into Padfoot (now that the risk of tape covered paws was gone) and darted out the front door, ignoring Remus’ calls.
It was well dark out, and probably quite a bit past suppertime, when he determined that Remus was not, in fact, going to come throw snowballs for him to chase. Padfoot slunk back into the house, paws caked in little frost-balls that clung to his fur and wedged between the pads of his toes, and found Remus half reclined in front of a cheerfully crackling fire in the parlor. His bare feet were propped up on the arm of the overstuffed off-white sofa that had replaced the stuffy and uncomfortable leather wingbacks as soon as Sirius had had the freedom to toss the old things. With a yip of doggy glee he shook, spraying Remus, and the rest of the room, with melted snow. At Remus’ yelp of disapproval he shifted back, grinning and pulling the tie out of his hair to give it a better chance at drying. Wet fur always seemed to translate to wet hair for some reason.
“So, what did my godson have to say that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked, sinking down beside his friend and enjoying the feel of the plush light golden carpet between his toes.
Remus frowned and held out a glass of warm mulled wine before handing over Harry's letter and sitting up. Sirius wanted to smooth out the little lines between warm brown eyes with his thumb, but he was distracted by Remus feeling the need to ply him with alcohol before letting him read the letter.
Sirius, Remus,
I'm sorry, but it looks like none of us are going to make it to Christmas this year. We were all looking forward to seeing you, although I suspect in Ron's case it's more a matter of escaping his mother for a little while. You know how Mrs. Weasley gets around Christmastime.
Anyway, the snow out here is simply awful. We were planning on flying since you aren't on the floo network yet and no one has figured out how to take down all the different anti-apparition wards, but no one trusts making it there. We all agreed it's safer to stay here. We will bring your gifts for New Years.
I'm terribly sorry.
Harry.
Sirius read the letter through twice then took a large mouthful of the wine. It was warm and Remus had added orange peel with the mulling spices so it had just the right hint of brightness. The large tree they had decorated two nights ago twinkled gently, fairy-lights glinting off the various glass baubles and casting odd colored shadows and filling the room with the smell of pine and smoke from the fire.
"This is delicious," he said calmly.
Remus gave him a sidelong glance, then smiled slightly. "You aren't going to get all upset that Harry can't make it tomorrow?"
Sirius laughed. "You forget I was just out in that snow. I haven’t seen it like this since Hogwarts. We'll be lucky to be able to get out of here in a couple more hours. As much as I was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow they are entirely right to not try and fly here." He paused, then frowned. "Does seem a shame about all the food you made, though."
Remus shrugged and indicated a small covered tray on the table. "I put a good preservation charm on it, it will keep for the week. I did leave us out some of the roast, though."
“Ooh, is there any of that bread left? A sandwich sounds wonderful right about now.”
Remus quirked the left side of his mouth and lifted the cover from the food. There were two plates both with sandwiches already made. “Before you can ask, no, there are no tomatoes on yours.”
Scooping up the sandwich and taking a large bite, Sirius let out a noise of appreciation. The turkey was juicy and Remus had thought to warm the bread first. After washing it down with another swallow of wine he smiled brightly. “This is perfect right now, Moony. You do love me.”
Remus turned a brilliant shade of red and choked on his sandwich. Sirius suddenly couldn’t breathe. He had meant it as a joke, maybe with a hint of wishful thinking, but Remus’ reaction was something out of his most private fantasies.
He set his food down carefully and opened his mouth to speak, but before he got the chance Remus went to refill their wine glasses and sloshed wine all over his hands.
Sirius chuckled. “All right there, Moony?” Remus nodded, and ducked his head as Sirius cast a quick cleaning charm on his hands. “I don’t know why you always insist on me casting the damned charm,” Sirius muttered, still smiling.
“Because, Padfoot, it’s quite difficult to cast when your wand hand is what needs to be cleaned, unless you plan on getting your wand all sticky. Rather hard for a wand to clean itself, no matter how good the user is at cleaning charms.”
“I thought getting your wand all sticky was half the fun.” Sirius cocked an eyebrow up, trying to appear far less nervous than his dancing innards thought he was. Remus choked again, his blush spreading down his neck and Sirius had to fight the urge to lean in and taste him.
“What is wrong with you, Padfoot?”
“Oh, come on Moony, you walked right into that one.”
Remus gave a very put upon sigh. “I suppose I did, at that.” The fire crackled, and they both watched each other for a moment before, upon silent mutual agreement, they both went back to their food.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, finishing up the sandwiches and another glass of wine each before Sirius finally spoke. “Besides,” Sirius continued, taking a shaky breath and diving in. “You look positively edible when you go all red like that.”
Remus froze before standing abruptly. “I suppose I should drag myself off to bed. It’s late. Goodnight, Sirius.”
Sirius felt his stomach drop out from under him, and he quickly drained his half full glass of wine before hiding behind his hair, biting his lip as Remus scooped up the dishes and made for the hallway. Steeling every ounce of Gryffindor courage he could find he whispered, “Happy Christmas, Moony.”
He let his damp hair stay hanging over his closed eyes, blocking out the flicker of the fire so that everything was a dim shadow on his eyelids. The only indication that Remus had come back into the room was the clink of glass as he set the tray back down with a sigh.
“Padfoot.”
Sirius just slouched a bit further down into the sofa. He knew he was huddling, but he couldn’t quite find the strength to do anything about it. The option of playing it off as a joke flitted just out of reach, and he didn’t really want to grab for it anyway. It was Christmas, and he had finally asked for the one gift he really wanted. Time to find out all I get is coal, he thought bitterly.
“Sirius,” Remus tried again, and this time Sirius felt a hand tentatively settle over his own. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at his knee where their hands were suddenly attempting to set fire to his trousers with the heat of contact and years of want.
Breathing was suddenly difficult, his lungs feeling a bit like he had been thrown underwater. Carefully turning his hand palm up he laced their fingers together, marveling over the slight tremor that ran through the werewolf from such a simple touch. Grey eyes met impossibly wide brown ones and Sirius found his voice. “I meant it, Moony.”
Remus took a deep breath and withdrew his hand. “I know.”
Sirius blinked slowly a couple of times, then laced his own fingers together to keep himself from fidgeting. “You know?”
Snorting indelicately, Remus quirked the edge of his mouth up in a half smile. “You’re not exactly the most subtle person in the world, Padfoot.”
Hair fell into his eyes as Sirius ducked his head, but warm fingers came up to brush it away. Unable to help himself, Sirius leaned into the touch, reveling in the feeling to strong fingers against his cheek.
Somehow, Sirius was sure they were having two different conversations, so he tried again. “You know, and you’re still here.”
Remus’ fingers were tangled in his hair, twisting it around a finger absently. The gentle tugging sent shivers through Sirius.
“I think,” Remus began slowly, “that that may be the problem.”
Sirius furrowed his brow, not understanding how Remus staying could possibly be a problem.
“When you first escaped,” Remus continued, “your only thoughts were for Harry. But now that you’re free, truly free, you’re starting to realize that you don’t have to be alone. I’m still here, the last vestiges of a time when you were happy. I’m a safe outlet for you to lust over.”
Remus, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his fingers were still carding through Sirius’ hair, shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all to him, and Sirius felt his chest tighten. “That’s not it at all,” he whispered, finally.
The way Remus was chewing on the inside of his cheek made Sirius certain that this conversation mattered to him far more than he was letting on. The problem was that he didn’t know in what way it mattered, so he decided to change tactics.
“In seventh year, James…” he trailed off and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the pain skitter through his chest, turning to bile that he swallowed down convulsively. When he could breathe he tried again. “He sat me down one evening to ask if I was bent.” Sirius let out a choked laugh. “I must have looked shocked because he just laughed at me and told me that if I didn’t want everyone to know I should probably stop drooling over you. Of course, since it had literally only been a few minutes since I had realized that the way that you bite your lip when you’re concentrating made me want to bite it for you, I was a bit surprised that he noticed. Bastard probably knew before I did. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have asked if he was bent for me since he was watching me that closely, though.”
“Was that the night he turned your hair into tinsel?” Remus asked, laughing quietly, his eyes crinkling up at the edges.
Something warm bloomed behind Sirius’ breastbone at that laugh, and he smiled. “Yeah. He always was clever in a fight.”
“And you might possibly have earned that one.”
Sirius let out a snort and smiled slightly. “Probably. The point is, he also told me that it was okay to look, but that if I ever wanted to do more than that I had to be really certain, because it could tear us all apart. Well, you know how I was. I was always certain of everything, right up until I changed my mind. So I never said anything.”
Remus seemed to finally notice where his hand was and he pulled it away quickly, letting Sirius’ hair fall through his fingers.
Sirius sighed, the back of his neck suddenly cold. “And you’re right, when I first escaped my thoughts were not exactly on romance. Not even the way the little bit of grey in your hair makes you look distinguished, or how desperately that freckle at the corner of your mouth is begging to be kissed was enough to distract me. Now that things are a bit calmer, having you live here has made me remember all the things that drove me to distraction before. So maybe it is the fact that you’re still here that brought this on, but not because you’re safe, or convenient, but because I’ve finally got the luxury to remember why I loved you in the first place.”
The fire popped loudly, and they both jumped a little. Shaking his head, Remus stared down at his hands which were twisting the hem of his jumper into little pleats. “It’s not that easy,” he began.
“Why not?” Sirius asked gently, cutting him off.
“Because it’s never that easy.”
“Moony, if this is something you don’t want I’ll learn to deal with that, but I’m tired of pretending it’s something I don’t want. On the other hand, if this is you being afraid that I don’t know what I want, well – please remember that, despite appearances, I have grown up some since we were seventeen. Hell, it’s lasted well over a decade. I think I can be fairly certain that I’m not going to change my mind any time soon.”
Remus chewed on his lip, turning to watch the firelight dance along the branches of the Christmas tree. After a long moment he finally spoke. “The truth of it is, Padfoot, I’ve been turning down perfectly reasonable flats hoping you wouldn’t notice because I enjoy being around you, probably more than I should admit to.”
His pulse suddenly working triple time, Sirius let those words sink in, dropping into place one by one like some mythical healing charm for his heart. “Then stay. Forever, if you’d like.”
The grandfather clock down the hall chimed midnight. As if on cue Remus let out a jaw cracking yawn. “I’ll think about it, Padfoot. But for now, I think we should probably get some rest. Harry may not be coming tomorrow, but there is every possibility that Dora will.”
“As funny as it would be to see the look on her face if I told her we were shagging each other senseless, I won’t rush you Moony. Take all the time you want, but think about it, yeah?”
Remus gave him a rueful smile. “Honestly, I think most people assume we already are shagging.” Sirius blinked at him a few times and Remus chuckled. “The war ended months ago and I’m still living with you, cooking your meals, helping you clean the place. We picked out this sofa together, Padfoot. We are not making a good case for being single.”
Sirius let out a bark of laughter, his breathing coming easier than it had in weeks. “We’re really not, are we?”
The floor creaked as Remus got to his feet, stretching. Sirius felt his face warm as he noticed the strip of skin that stretching exposed between jumper and trousers was directly at eye level. Dragging his eyes up he saw a strange expression on his friend’s face, his soft brown eyes wide, mouth open slightly, cheeks flushed.
They locked eyes for a moment before Remus muttered, “Sod it,” and grabbed Sirius’ hands, hauling him to his feet. Sirius stumbled from the momentum, but Remus’ hands on his waist stilled him just before the werewolf pressed their lips together.
Sirius felt his lungs constrict, and a small whimper escaped him as he felt strong fingers tangle in his hair. He brought his hand up to cup Remus’ face, trying desperately to keep a respectable distance between their bodies. When he felt Remus flick his tongue against his bottom lip, however, that distance melted away as he tugged the other man close, opening his mouth and finally tasting his friend.
He felt, more than heard, the quiet moan from Remus as their tongues tangled for the first time. Slowly, giving him ample time to step away, Sirius smoothed his hand down Remus’ back to settle on the swell of his arse.
Remus nipped his lower lip gently before pulling away and nuzzling his face into the juncture between Sirius’ shoulder and neck.
“Wow,” Sirius whispered, his head spinning.
Lifting his head, Remus smiled and stepped back slowly. “Goodnight, Padfoot, and Happy Christmas.” His hand still lingered at Sirius’ waist as if he was as reluctant to break the contact as Sirius was to let him.
Mind still half on the traces of Remus he could taste on his lips, and the way his friend looked thoroughly kissed, Sirius mumbled, “Night, Moony. I suppose it probably is past time to put on the stairs, climb my pajamas and crawl into… I mean climb the stairs, put on my pajamas and turn off the bed… err, crawl into bed. Bugger.”
Sirius’s face was nearly as red as his jumper and Remus chuckled. “Just how much of that wine have you had?” he asked, running his fingers over Sirius’ arm, making him shiver and try and pull Remus close again.
“Not the wine—Moony kisses. Far more intoxicating.”
Remus turned a lovely shade of pink and smiled at him. “I suppose I’m going to have to cut you off, then. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt on your way to bed.”
Before he could stop himself Sirius let out a small whimper and reached out to tug Remus in for another kiss, but Remus danced out of reach grinning.
“Now, after we’ve got you all tucked into bed, that’s another story.”
Sirius forgot how to breathe for a moment. “Does that mean you’re really willing to give this a go?”
It was silent long enough that Sirius was steeling his heart for the inevitable break when Remus finally answered. “Yeah. I… yes.”
The look of wonderment on Remus’ face made him look years younger, and was currently turning Sirius’ legs to mush.
“I think,” Remus added, hesitantly, “that I’ve wanted this for so long that I’m a little afraid to let myself have it. I’m not sure I know who I am without this want stabbing at me like a shard of glass imbedded in my heart.” He frowned suddenly. “I also think I may be getting melodramatic in my old age.”
Sirius chuckled, shrugging. “I know who you are. You’re my Moony.” Then he leaned down to kiss him again, still marveling at his sudden ability to do so.
When they drew apart Remus linked their fingers together. “Are you coming to bed?”
Disentangling their hands, Sirius smiled. “Give me five minutes before you come up.”
Remus arched and eyebrow at him and Sirius felt his cheeks warm. He ducked his head briefly in embarrassment. “I thoroughly failed at wrapping your gifts earlier. They’re still all over my floor.”
“Oh! But I didn’t —“
“Yes you did, Moony,” Sirius cut him off. “And I can’t wait to get to unwrap it.”
Author/Artist:
museinabsentiaRecipient:
cevennesRating: PG
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None *
Word count: ~4500
Summary: Post second war AU in which Remus cheats at baking, Padfoot plays in the snow, and Christmas jumpers combined with mulled wine may lead to something old becoming something new.
Notes: I realize that I don’t quite have them snowed in as requested, but I hope this is close enough.
Also, thank you to my wonderful beta for the extremely last minute help, and for the title suggestion!
The door to Sirius’ bedroom slammed shut with far more force than he intended. He winced slightly, dropping an armful of gift wrapping supplies onto his burgundy comforter. He had dragged them out to join the pile that was already in various states of disarray all over the floor. Fortunately, Remus was down in the kitchen and probably couldn’t hear the door. Hopefully.
When he had first suggested to his old friend that they have a Christmas celebration and invite Harry, Ron and Hermione, it had sounded like a wonderful distraction. Remus, who had been trying to find his own place since the war had ended months earlier, had thrown himself into preparations like they were an assignment due to McGonagall. Sirius was just grateful to anything that distracted Remus from looking for somewhere else to live. He enjoyed having the werewolf for company.
The part Sirius still wasn’t sure about was why he volunteered Grimauld Place for the festivities, other than they had nowhere else to have them. In the little time since Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, had granted Sirius his official pardon they had barely gotten the house to acceptably safe for habitation and it certainly wasn’t connected to the floo network yet. Christmas was no time to try and refurnish a house. There were only a few rooms that were truly comfortable, the rest awaiting a full makeover once the shopping rush had died down a little.
The only rooms that were actually finished were the room that Remus was currently using as a bedroom, the kitchen, a parlor and Sirius’ bedroom, where Sirius himself was currently hiding. I’m being productive, had become a recurring mantra as he sank down to the floor, back leaning against the side of his oak bedframe. The matching wardrobe stared back at him in disbelief.
There were balls of wrapping paper crumpled all around his feet, brightly colored baubles in red and gold with only hints of green that made dry leaf noises if he tried to move. The small stack of gifts he had accrued for Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as the small pile for Remus (which he had promised himself would not get out of hand and yet had grown every time he left the house and saw something else his friend would like) all sat scattered amidst the chaos of wrapping supplies. They were decidedly still not wrapped.
This newfound determination to best his ineptitude at all things muggle and wrap these gifts without magic didn’t come so much from any inclination to avoid magic at the holidays as it did from the entirely too enticing smells coming from the tiny kitchen below. Or, more accurately, the urge to avoid the man creating the smells and the way his tacky Christmas jumper, cream with red reindeer that were a little too reminiscent of Prongs for his taste, emphasized the wiry muscles in his forearms when he pushed the sleeves up to just below his elbows while stirring the Christmas pudding.
“It’s entirely unfair,” Sirius mumbled, addressing his tape-coated fingers, “that a jumper that horrid makes him look so bloody edible.” When the only reply was a sticky peeling noise as he tried to separate his fingers he sighed heavily. “I doubt he would appreciate my telling him to sod the pudding, I’d rather eat him anyway. How exactly do I get myself into these situations?” The scraps of wrapping paper were no help at all.
With an exasperated huff he reached up to his loosely tied ponytail where he had stuck his wand so it wouldn’t get lost in the mess. The tape on his fingers stuck to some escaped strands and he yelped as he pulled a few out. “Buggering fuck!” Slinking out of his bedroom he slammed the door behind him and clomped his way down to the kitchen.
Habit had him tiptoeing past the hole in the wall where, finally tired of Walburga Black’s ranting, they had simply blasted out the section of wall her portrait had been adhered to and moved the whole thing to the attic, surrounded by heavy silencing charms. They had left the hole as a testament to their ingenuity at getting some peace and quiet. As a result, Remus didn’t hear him walking up behind him.
Remus was levitating a tray of biscuits onto a Winsome Witches Instacool rack. Sirius leaned against the doorframe allowing himself this moment to watch and pointedly ignoring the tightening in his chest that had become more and more pronounced these last few weeks as he watched his friend throw himself into the Christmas spirit with a level of domesticity that left Sirius aching to wake up next to him and argue over breakfast between stolen kisses.
The last couple biscuits to leave the tray hit the floor in a gooey mess when Remus noticed Sirius standing in the doorway, barefoot, burgundy jumper covered in bits of ribbon and shreds of paper, tape stuck to his fingers, wand sticking out of his hair and his mouth hanging open.
With a chuckle Remus vanished the mess from the floor. “Do I dare ask after the state of the rest of the wrapping supplies?”
Sirius felt his face warm and briefly entertained the thought of turning into Padfoot to play up the pitiful look, but quickly gave it up with a shudder at the thought of tape stuck to his paws. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, widened his eyes and gave his best human impersonation of Padfoot’s whine. “Moony,” he whimpered, holding out his hands.
“Couldn’t get to your own wand?”
Sirius bit down an entirely inappropriate response and turned around so Remus could see the tape that was stuck in his hair from when he tried. “It didn’t go so well,” he muttered, turning back in time to see the remnants of a laugh in Remus’ caramel colored eyes.
“Why exactly did you insist on the muggle approach to gift wrapping?” Remus chuckled, flicking his wand casually to right the mess Sirius had made of himself.
The feeling of tape vanishing from his fingers left Sirius feeling slightly peeled. “Just seemed like the thing to do,” he mumbled, eyeing the rack of gingersnaps and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out an embarrassing diatribe about puddings and ridiculous jumpers. “I didn’t know you could bake, too, Moony.”
Remus let him change the subject, turning a wonderful shade of light pink. “Ah, well.” He indicated a container on the marble counter which read: Hansel and Gretel’s Gingerbread Crumbs. “Just add an aguamenti,” he mumbled.
“Why Remus Lupin you little cheat! How very Marauderish of you.”
“I just thought they would be nice, what with Harry, Ron and Hermione coming by tomorrow. Speaking of which, did Harry’s last owl mention if he was bringing Ginny as well?”
“I believe so. Also, Dora said she might stop by and finally introduce us to that new bird she’s been seeing, but it’s even money that they never make it here after she subjects the poor girl to inspection by Andromeda.”
Remus snickered and turned back to the stove.
Sirius was transfixed by the way the muscles in Remus’ shoulders bunched as he stirred slowly. How in the bloody hell did I ever survive Potions all those years ago? he mused, while trying not to give in to the overwhelming temptation to wrap his arms around his friend and find out if he now smelled like gingerbread.
A tapping at the window wrenched him forcefully from his slightly dazed, and not so subtle, appreciation of the curve of Remus’ neck where it joined his shoulder. He blinked a couple of times to see Remus opening the window to let Harry’s very snow covered owl in.
“It’s snowing?” he burst out, rushing over and sticking his head out the window. Shivering, he ducked back in seconds later, his black hair liberally dotted with rapidly melting snowflakes. “It’s snowing!” Sirius promptly turned into Padfoot (now that the risk of tape covered paws was gone) and darted out the front door, ignoring Remus’ calls.
It was well dark out, and probably quite a bit past suppertime, when he determined that Remus was not, in fact, going to come throw snowballs for him to chase. Padfoot slunk back into the house, paws caked in little frost-balls that clung to his fur and wedged between the pads of his toes, and found Remus half reclined in front of a cheerfully crackling fire in the parlor. His bare feet were propped up on the arm of the overstuffed off-white sofa that had replaced the stuffy and uncomfortable leather wingbacks as soon as Sirius had had the freedom to toss the old things. With a yip of doggy glee he shook, spraying Remus, and the rest of the room, with melted snow. At Remus’ yelp of disapproval he shifted back, grinning and pulling the tie out of his hair to give it a better chance at drying. Wet fur always seemed to translate to wet hair for some reason.
“So, what did my godson have to say that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked, sinking down beside his friend and enjoying the feel of the plush light golden carpet between his toes.
Remus frowned and held out a glass of warm mulled wine before handing over Harry's letter and sitting up. Sirius wanted to smooth out the little lines between warm brown eyes with his thumb, but he was distracted by Remus feeling the need to ply him with alcohol before letting him read the letter.
Sirius, Remus,
I'm sorry, but it looks like none of us are going to make it to Christmas this year. We were all looking forward to seeing you, although I suspect in Ron's case it's more a matter of escaping his mother for a little while. You know how Mrs. Weasley gets around Christmastime.
Anyway, the snow out here is simply awful. We were planning on flying since you aren't on the floo network yet and no one has figured out how to take down all the different anti-apparition wards, but no one trusts making it there. We all agreed it's safer to stay here. We will bring your gifts for New Years.
I'm terribly sorry.
Harry.
Sirius read the letter through twice then took a large mouthful of the wine. It was warm and Remus had added orange peel with the mulling spices so it had just the right hint of brightness. The large tree they had decorated two nights ago twinkled gently, fairy-lights glinting off the various glass baubles and casting odd colored shadows and filling the room with the smell of pine and smoke from the fire.
"This is delicious," he said calmly.
Remus gave him a sidelong glance, then smiled slightly. "You aren't going to get all upset that Harry can't make it tomorrow?"
Sirius laughed. "You forget I was just out in that snow. I haven’t seen it like this since Hogwarts. We'll be lucky to be able to get out of here in a couple more hours. As much as I was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow they are entirely right to not try and fly here." He paused, then frowned. "Does seem a shame about all the food you made, though."
Remus shrugged and indicated a small covered tray on the table. "I put a good preservation charm on it, it will keep for the week. I did leave us out some of the roast, though."
“Ooh, is there any of that bread left? A sandwich sounds wonderful right about now.”
Remus quirked the left side of his mouth and lifted the cover from the food. There were two plates both with sandwiches already made. “Before you can ask, no, there are no tomatoes on yours.”
Scooping up the sandwich and taking a large bite, Sirius let out a noise of appreciation. The turkey was juicy and Remus had thought to warm the bread first. After washing it down with another swallow of wine he smiled brightly. “This is perfect right now, Moony. You do love me.”
Remus turned a brilliant shade of red and choked on his sandwich. Sirius suddenly couldn’t breathe. He had meant it as a joke, maybe with a hint of wishful thinking, but Remus’ reaction was something out of his most private fantasies.
He set his food down carefully and opened his mouth to speak, but before he got the chance Remus went to refill their wine glasses and sloshed wine all over his hands.
Sirius chuckled. “All right there, Moony?” Remus nodded, and ducked his head as Sirius cast a quick cleaning charm on his hands. “I don’t know why you always insist on me casting the damned charm,” Sirius muttered, still smiling.
“Because, Padfoot, it’s quite difficult to cast when your wand hand is what needs to be cleaned, unless you plan on getting your wand all sticky. Rather hard for a wand to clean itself, no matter how good the user is at cleaning charms.”
“I thought getting your wand all sticky was half the fun.” Sirius cocked an eyebrow up, trying to appear far less nervous than his dancing innards thought he was. Remus choked again, his blush spreading down his neck and Sirius had to fight the urge to lean in and taste him.
“What is wrong with you, Padfoot?”
“Oh, come on Moony, you walked right into that one.”
Remus gave a very put upon sigh. “I suppose I did, at that.” The fire crackled, and they both watched each other for a moment before, upon silent mutual agreement, they both went back to their food.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, finishing up the sandwiches and another glass of wine each before Sirius finally spoke. “Besides,” Sirius continued, taking a shaky breath and diving in. “You look positively edible when you go all red like that.”
Remus froze before standing abruptly. “I suppose I should drag myself off to bed. It’s late. Goodnight, Sirius.”
Sirius felt his stomach drop out from under him, and he quickly drained his half full glass of wine before hiding behind his hair, biting his lip as Remus scooped up the dishes and made for the hallway. Steeling every ounce of Gryffindor courage he could find he whispered, “Happy Christmas, Moony.”
He let his damp hair stay hanging over his closed eyes, blocking out the flicker of the fire so that everything was a dim shadow on his eyelids. The only indication that Remus had come back into the room was the clink of glass as he set the tray back down with a sigh.
“Padfoot.”
Sirius just slouched a bit further down into the sofa. He knew he was huddling, but he couldn’t quite find the strength to do anything about it. The option of playing it off as a joke flitted just out of reach, and he didn’t really want to grab for it anyway. It was Christmas, and he had finally asked for the one gift he really wanted. Time to find out all I get is coal, he thought bitterly.
“Sirius,” Remus tried again, and this time Sirius felt a hand tentatively settle over his own. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at his knee where their hands were suddenly attempting to set fire to his trousers with the heat of contact and years of want.
Breathing was suddenly difficult, his lungs feeling a bit like he had been thrown underwater. Carefully turning his hand palm up he laced their fingers together, marveling over the slight tremor that ran through the werewolf from such a simple touch. Grey eyes met impossibly wide brown ones and Sirius found his voice. “I meant it, Moony.”
Remus took a deep breath and withdrew his hand. “I know.”
Sirius blinked slowly a couple of times, then laced his own fingers together to keep himself from fidgeting. “You know?”
Snorting indelicately, Remus quirked the edge of his mouth up in a half smile. “You’re not exactly the most subtle person in the world, Padfoot.”
Hair fell into his eyes as Sirius ducked his head, but warm fingers came up to brush it away. Unable to help himself, Sirius leaned into the touch, reveling in the feeling to strong fingers against his cheek.
Somehow, Sirius was sure they were having two different conversations, so he tried again. “You know, and you’re still here.”
Remus’ fingers were tangled in his hair, twisting it around a finger absently. The gentle tugging sent shivers through Sirius.
“I think,” Remus began slowly, “that that may be the problem.”
Sirius furrowed his brow, not understanding how Remus staying could possibly be a problem.
“When you first escaped,” Remus continued, “your only thoughts were for Harry. But now that you’re free, truly free, you’re starting to realize that you don’t have to be alone. I’m still here, the last vestiges of a time when you were happy. I’m a safe outlet for you to lust over.”
Remus, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his fingers were still carding through Sirius’ hair, shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all to him, and Sirius felt his chest tighten. “That’s not it at all,” he whispered, finally.
The way Remus was chewing on the inside of his cheek made Sirius certain that this conversation mattered to him far more than he was letting on. The problem was that he didn’t know in what way it mattered, so he decided to change tactics.
“In seventh year, James…” he trailed off and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the pain skitter through his chest, turning to bile that he swallowed down convulsively. When he could breathe he tried again. “He sat me down one evening to ask if I was bent.” Sirius let out a choked laugh. “I must have looked shocked because he just laughed at me and told me that if I didn’t want everyone to know I should probably stop drooling over you. Of course, since it had literally only been a few minutes since I had realized that the way that you bite your lip when you’re concentrating made me want to bite it for you, I was a bit surprised that he noticed. Bastard probably knew before I did. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have asked if he was bent for me since he was watching me that closely, though.”
“Was that the night he turned your hair into tinsel?” Remus asked, laughing quietly, his eyes crinkling up at the edges.
Something warm bloomed behind Sirius’ breastbone at that laugh, and he smiled. “Yeah. He always was clever in a fight.”
“And you might possibly have earned that one.”
Sirius let out a snort and smiled slightly. “Probably. The point is, he also told me that it was okay to look, but that if I ever wanted to do more than that I had to be really certain, because it could tear us all apart. Well, you know how I was. I was always certain of everything, right up until I changed my mind. So I never said anything.”
Remus seemed to finally notice where his hand was and he pulled it away quickly, letting Sirius’ hair fall through his fingers.
Sirius sighed, the back of his neck suddenly cold. “And you’re right, when I first escaped my thoughts were not exactly on romance. Not even the way the little bit of grey in your hair makes you look distinguished, or how desperately that freckle at the corner of your mouth is begging to be kissed was enough to distract me. Now that things are a bit calmer, having you live here has made me remember all the things that drove me to distraction before. So maybe it is the fact that you’re still here that brought this on, but not because you’re safe, or convenient, but because I’ve finally got the luxury to remember why I loved you in the first place.”
The fire popped loudly, and they both jumped a little. Shaking his head, Remus stared down at his hands which were twisting the hem of his jumper into little pleats. “It’s not that easy,” he began.
“Why not?” Sirius asked gently, cutting him off.
“Because it’s never that easy.”
“Moony, if this is something you don’t want I’ll learn to deal with that, but I’m tired of pretending it’s something I don’t want. On the other hand, if this is you being afraid that I don’t know what I want, well – please remember that, despite appearances, I have grown up some since we were seventeen. Hell, it’s lasted well over a decade. I think I can be fairly certain that I’m not going to change my mind any time soon.”
Remus chewed on his lip, turning to watch the firelight dance along the branches of the Christmas tree. After a long moment he finally spoke. “The truth of it is, Padfoot, I’ve been turning down perfectly reasonable flats hoping you wouldn’t notice because I enjoy being around you, probably more than I should admit to.”
His pulse suddenly working triple time, Sirius let those words sink in, dropping into place one by one like some mythical healing charm for his heart. “Then stay. Forever, if you’d like.”
The grandfather clock down the hall chimed midnight. As if on cue Remus let out a jaw cracking yawn. “I’ll think about it, Padfoot. But for now, I think we should probably get some rest. Harry may not be coming tomorrow, but there is every possibility that Dora will.”
“As funny as it would be to see the look on her face if I told her we were shagging each other senseless, I won’t rush you Moony. Take all the time you want, but think about it, yeah?”
Remus gave him a rueful smile. “Honestly, I think most people assume we already are shagging.” Sirius blinked at him a few times and Remus chuckled. “The war ended months ago and I’m still living with you, cooking your meals, helping you clean the place. We picked out this sofa together, Padfoot. We are not making a good case for being single.”
Sirius let out a bark of laughter, his breathing coming easier than it had in weeks. “We’re really not, are we?”
The floor creaked as Remus got to his feet, stretching. Sirius felt his face warm as he noticed the strip of skin that stretching exposed between jumper and trousers was directly at eye level. Dragging his eyes up he saw a strange expression on his friend’s face, his soft brown eyes wide, mouth open slightly, cheeks flushed.
They locked eyes for a moment before Remus muttered, “Sod it,” and grabbed Sirius’ hands, hauling him to his feet. Sirius stumbled from the momentum, but Remus’ hands on his waist stilled him just before the werewolf pressed their lips together.
Sirius felt his lungs constrict, and a small whimper escaped him as he felt strong fingers tangle in his hair. He brought his hand up to cup Remus’ face, trying desperately to keep a respectable distance between their bodies. When he felt Remus flick his tongue against his bottom lip, however, that distance melted away as he tugged the other man close, opening his mouth and finally tasting his friend.
He felt, more than heard, the quiet moan from Remus as their tongues tangled for the first time. Slowly, giving him ample time to step away, Sirius smoothed his hand down Remus’ back to settle on the swell of his arse.
Remus nipped his lower lip gently before pulling away and nuzzling his face into the juncture between Sirius’ shoulder and neck.
“Wow,” Sirius whispered, his head spinning.
Lifting his head, Remus smiled and stepped back slowly. “Goodnight, Padfoot, and Happy Christmas.” His hand still lingered at Sirius’ waist as if he was as reluctant to break the contact as Sirius was to let him.
Mind still half on the traces of Remus he could taste on his lips, and the way his friend looked thoroughly kissed, Sirius mumbled, “Night, Moony. I suppose it probably is past time to put on the stairs, climb my pajamas and crawl into… I mean climb the stairs, put on my pajamas and turn off the bed… err, crawl into bed. Bugger.”
Sirius’s face was nearly as red as his jumper and Remus chuckled. “Just how much of that wine have you had?” he asked, running his fingers over Sirius’ arm, making him shiver and try and pull Remus close again.
“Not the wine—Moony kisses. Far more intoxicating.”
Remus turned a lovely shade of pink and smiled at him. “I suppose I’m going to have to cut you off, then. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt on your way to bed.”
Before he could stop himself Sirius let out a small whimper and reached out to tug Remus in for another kiss, but Remus danced out of reach grinning.
“Now, after we’ve got you all tucked into bed, that’s another story.”
Sirius forgot how to breathe for a moment. “Does that mean you’re really willing to give this a go?”
It was silent long enough that Sirius was steeling his heart for the inevitable break when Remus finally answered. “Yeah. I… yes.”
The look of wonderment on Remus’ face made him look years younger, and was currently turning Sirius’ legs to mush.
“I think,” Remus added, hesitantly, “that I’ve wanted this for so long that I’m a little afraid to let myself have it. I’m not sure I know who I am without this want stabbing at me like a shard of glass imbedded in my heart.” He frowned suddenly. “I also think I may be getting melodramatic in my old age.”
Sirius chuckled, shrugging. “I know who you are. You’re my Moony.” Then he leaned down to kiss him again, still marveling at his sudden ability to do so.
When they drew apart Remus linked their fingers together. “Are you coming to bed?”
Disentangling their hands, Sirius smiled. “Give me five minutes before you come up.”
Remus arched and eyebrow at him and Sirius felt his cheeks warm. He ducked his head briefly in embarrassment. “I thoroughly failed at wrapping your gifts earlier. They’re still all over my floor.”
“Oh! But I didn’t —“
“Yes you did, Moony,” Sirius cut him off. “And I can’t wait to get to unwrap it.”
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Date: 2014-12-29 02:30 pm (UTC)