rs_small_gifts 2011, Year 6
Aug. 31st, 2011 10:16 pm"Moony?"
"Hm?" Remus leans to pull the last of the summer's tomatoes from the vines, weeding around the plants as he goes.
Sirius reclines on his garden chair, book open across his chest, squinting up at Remus while he works. "What are you getting me for my Christmas this year?"
Remus brushes soil onto his gardening trousers and glares. "It's the end of August, Sirius."
Sirius frowns. "You and your non sequiturs. I know what month it is. That's not what I asked. What are you putting in my stocking?"
"My point is, who thinks about Christmas at the end of August?" Remus turns back to his work. They've still time for some late flowers if they, well he, can clear this bed before the days get any shorter.
"Lots of people. People who plan ahead," Sirius says, waving his hand as if he's showing Remus the throng of planners packed into their garden.
"Right, well I won't be putting anything in your stocking or anywhere else if you don't help me tidy up this bloody garden. How's that for a plan?" Remus resists the urge to throw the muddy clump of weeds in his left hand at Sirius.
"That's a fine attitude for our fourth...no fifth is it? Our fifth Christmas together. One would think you could muster a little excitement," Sirius says.
He crosses his arms and looks so pathetically like a hurt puppy that Remus regrets his cross words.
"It's six, Sirius. Six years." Remus crosses the garden and sits next to Sirius, taking Sirius' clean hands in his muddy ones. "I'm excited. It will be wonderful. Your stocking will be filled with all sorts of lovely little packages of all shapes and sizes. Just, please, let's finish the garden first. Then we can think about planning Christmas."
Sirius graces him with one of his happy, handsome grins. Despite the mud and the filth of a full day of working outside in the sun, Sirius closes his eyes, leans in, and kisses him. "That's all I want, Moony. I only need to know that it's coming," he murmurs as he pulls back.
"Well it is, Padfoot. Of course it is."
We are pleased to announce that
rs_small_gifts will be back for a sixth year! So, watch this space for all of your low-stress R/S holiday needs.
All our very best,
magnetic_pole,
sambethe, and
mindabbles
"Hm?" Remus leans to pull the last of the summer's tomatoes from the vines, weeding around the plants as he goes.
Sirius reclines on his garden chair, book open across his chest, squinting up at Remus while he works. "What are you getting me for my Christmas this year?"
Remus brushes soil onto his gardening trousers and glares. "It's the end of August, Sirius."
Sirius frowns. "You and your non sequiturs. I know what month it is. That's not what I asked. What are you putting in my stocking?"
"My point is, who thinks about Christmas at the end of August?" Remus turns back to his work. They've still time for some late flowers if they, well he, can clear this bed before the days get any shorter.
"Lots of people. People who plan ahead," Sirius says, waving his hand as if he's showing Remus the throng of planners packed into their garden.
"Right, well I won't be putting anything in your stocking or anywhere else if you don't help me tidy up this bloody garden. How's that for a plan?" Remus resists the urge to throw the muddy clump of weeds in his left hand at Sirius.
"That's a fine attitude for our fourth...no fifth is it? Our fifth Christmas together. One would think you could muster a little excitement," Sirius says.
He crosses his arms and looks so pathetically like a hurt puppy that Remus regrets his cross words.
"It's six, Sirius. Six years." Remus crosses the garden and sits next to Sirius, taking Sirius' clean hands in his muddy ones. "I'm excited. It will be wonderful. Your stocking will be filled with all sorts of lovely little packages of all shapes and sizes. Just, please, let's finish the garden first. Then we can think about planning Christmas."
Sirius graces him with one of his happy, handsome grins. Despite the mud and the filth of a full day of working outside in the sun, Sirius closes his eyes, leans in, and kisses him. "That's all I want, Moony. I only need to know that it's coming," he murmurs as he pulls back.
"Well it is, Padfoot. Of course it is."
We are pleased to announce that
All our very best,